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RECITATIONS
FOR THE SOCIAL CIRCLE.
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BY
JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.
PUBLISHED BY
THE CHRISTIAN HERALD.
LOUIS KLOPSCH, Proprietor,
BIBLE HOUSE, NEW YORK.
Copyright, 1896.
BY LOUIS KLOPSCH.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
In reading and recitation, the general tendency is to overdo. The quiet
reserve force, which can be made apparent in the voice, will reach the
heart and stir the soul when gesture and ranting fail. "Be bold! Be not too
bold" should | 276.68898 |
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Transcriber's Note: A couple of unusual spellings in the "ads"
have been left as printed.
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Woman's Work in
English Fiction
From the Restoration to the
Mid-Victorian Period
By
Clara H. Whitmore, A.M.
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1910
COPYRIGHT, 1909
BY
CLARA H. WHITMORE
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
PREFACE
The writings of many of the women considered in this volume have sunk
into an oblivion from which their intrinsic merit should have preserved
them. This is partly due to the fact that nearly all the books on
literature have been | 276.854204 |
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[Illustration: "You are the visitor I was expecting"]
THE INTERNATIONAL
ADVENTURE LIBRARY
[Illustration]
THREE OWLS EDITION
813
BY MAURICE LEBLANC
Author of "Arsene Lupin," "The Blonde Lady,"
"The Hollow Needle," Etc.
_Translated by Alexander Teixeira De Mottos_
W. R. CALDWELL & CO.
NEW YORK
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY MAURICE LEBLANC
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
A zealous reader, collating the translation of this
book with the original, would hit upon certain
differences. These are due to alterations made, in
most case, by the author himself, and, in all cases,
with his full approval.
A. T. DE M.
CHELSEA, England, August, 1910.
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
Translator's Note v
I. THE TRAGEDY AT THE PALACE HOTEL 3
II. THE BLUE-EDGED LABEL 31
III. M. LENORMAND OPENS HIS CAMPAIGN 55
IV. PRINCE SERNINE AT WORK 75
V. M. LENORMAND AT WORK 114
VI. M. LENORMAND SUCCUMBS 137
VII. PARBURY-RIBEIRA-ALTENHEIM 162
VIII. THE OLIVE-GREEN FROCK-COAT 192
IX. "SANTE PALACE" 219
X. LUPIN'S GREAT SCHEME 254
XI. CHARLEMAGNE 272
XII. THE EMPEROR'S LETTERS 291
XIII. THE SEVEN SCOUNDRELS 324
XIV. THE MAN IN BLACK 352
XV. THE MAP OF EUROPE 379
XVI. ARSENE LUPIN'S THREE MURDERS 405
EPILOGUE. THE SUICIDE 434
813
CHAPTER I
THE TRAGEDY AT THE PALACE HOTEL
Mr. Kesselbach stopped short on the threshold of the sitting-room, took
his secretary's arm and, in an anxious voice, whispered:
"Chapman, some one has been here again."
"Surely not, sir," protested the secretary. "You have just opened the
hall-door yourself; and the key never left your pocket while we were
lunching in the restaurant."
"Chapman, some one has been here again," Mr. Kesselbach repeated. He
pointed to a traveling-bag on the mantelpiece. "Look, I can prove it.
That bag was shut. It is now open."
Chapman protested.
"Are you quite sure that you shut it, sir? Besides, the bag contains
nothing but odds and ends of no value, articles of dress...."
"It contains nothing else, because I took my pocket-book out before we
went down, by way of precaution.... But for that.... No, Chapman,
I tell you, some one has been here while we were at lunch."
There was a telephone on the wall. He took down the receiver:
"Hallo!... I'm Mr. Kesselbach.... Suite 415... That's right.
... Mademoiselle, would you please put me on to the Prefecture of
Police... the detective department.... I know the number... one
second... Ah, here it is! Number 822.48.... I'll hold the line."
A moment later he continued:
"Are you 822.48? I should like a word with M. Lenormand, the chief of
the detective-service. My name's Kesselbach.... Hullo!... Yes, the
chief detective knows what it's about. He has given me leave to ring him
up.... Oh, he's not there?... To whom am I speaking?...
Detective-sergeant Gourel?... You were there yesterday, were you not,
when I called on M. Lenormand? Well, the same thing that I told M.
Lenormand yesterday has occurred again to-day.... Some one has
entered the suite which I am occupying. And, if you come at once, you
may be able to discover some clues.... In an hour or two? All right;
thanks.... You have only to ask for suite 415.... Thank you
again."
* * * * *
Rudolf Kesselbach, nicknamed alternatively the King of Diamonds and the
Lord of the Cape, possessed a fortune estimated at nearly twenty
millions sterling. For the past week, he had occupied suite 415, on the
fourth floor of the Palace Hotel, consisting of three rooms, of which
the two larger, on the right, the sitting-room and the principal
bedroom, faced the avenue; while the other, on the left, in which
Chapman, the secretary, slept, looked out on the Rue de Judee.
Adjoining this bedroom, a suite of five rooms had been reserved for Mrs.
Kesselbach, who was to leave Monte Carlo, where she was at present
staying, and join her husband the moment she heard from him.
Rudolf Kesselbach walked up and down for a few minutes with a thoughtful
air. He was a tall man, with a ruddy complexion, and still young; and
his dreamy eyes, which showed pale blue through his gold-rimmed
spectacles, gave him an expression of gentleness and shyness that
contrasted curiously with the strength of the square forehead and the
powerfully-developed jaws.
He went to the window: it was fastened. Besides, how could any one have
entered that way? The private balcony that ran round the flat broke off
on the right and was separated on the left by a stone channel from the
balconies in the Rue de Judee.
He went to his bedroom: it had no communication with the neighboring
rooms. He went to his secretary's bedroom: the door that led into the
five rooms reserved for Mrs. Kesselbach was locked and bolted.
"I can't understand it at all, Chapman. Time after time I have noticed
things here... funny things, as you must admit. Yesterday, my
walking-stick was moved.... The day before that, my papers had
certainly been touched.... And yet how was it possible?...
"It is not possible, sir!" cried Chapman, whose honest, placid features
displayed no anxiety. "You're imagining things, that's all.... You
have no proof, nothing but impressions, to go upon.... Besides, look
here: there is no way into this suite except through the entrance-lobby.
Very well. You had a special key made on the day of our arrival: and
your own man, Edwards, has the only duplicate. Do you trust him?"
"Of course I do!... He's been with me for ten years!... But
Edwards goes to lunch at the same time that we do; and that's a mistake.
He must not go down, in future, until we come back."
Chapman gave a slight shrug of the shoulders. There was no doubt about
it, the Lord of the Cape was becoming a trifle eccentric, with those
incomprehensible fears of his. What risk can you run in an hotel,
especially when you carry no valuables, no important sum of money on you
or with you?
They heard the hall-door opening. It was Edwards. Mr. Kesselbach called
him:
"Are you dressed, Edwards? Ah, that's right!... I am expecting no
visitors to-day, Edwards... or, rather, one visitor only, M. Gourel.
Meantime, remain in the lobby and keep an eye on the door. Mr. Chapman
and I have some serious work to do."
The serious work lasted for a few minutes, during which Mr. Kesselbach
went through his correspondence, read three or four letters and gave
instructions how they were to be answered. But, suddenly, Chapman,
waiting with pen poised, saw that Mr. Kesselbach was thinking of
something quite different from his correspondence. He was holding
between his fingers and attentively examining a pin, a black pin bent
like a fish-hook:
"Chapman," he said, "look what I've found on the table. This bent pin
obviously means something. It's a proof, a material piece of evidence.
You can't pretend now that no one has been in the room. For, after all,
this pin did not come here of itself."
"Certainly not," replied the secretary. "It came here through me."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, it's a pin which I used to fasten my tie to my collar. I took it
out last night, while you were reading, and I twisted it mechanically."
Mr. Kesselbach rose from his chair, with a great air of vexation, took a
few steps and stopped.
"You're laughing at me, Chapman, I feel you are... and you're quite
right.... I won't deny it, I have been rather... odd, since my
last journey to the Cape. It's because... well... you don't know
the new factor in my life... a tremendous plan... a huge thing
... I can only see it, as yet, in the haze of the future... but
it's taking shape for all that... and it will be something colossal.
... Ah, Chapman, you can't imagine.... Money I don't care a fig
for: I have money, I have too much money.... But this, this means a
great deal more; it means power, might, authority. If the reality comes
up to my expectations, I shall be not only Lord of the Cape, but lord of
other realms as well.... Rudolf Kesselbach, the son of the Augsburg
ironmonger, will be on a par with many people who till now have looked
down upon him.... He will even take precedence of them, Chapman; he
will, take precedence of them, mark my words... and, if ever I..."
He interrupted himself, looked at Chapman as though he regretted having
said too much and, nevertheless, carried away by his excitement,
concluded:
"You now understand the reasons of my anxiety, Chapman.... Here, in
this brain, is an idea that is worth a great deal... and this idea
is suspected perhaps... and I am being spied upon.... I'm
convinced of it...."
A bell sounded.
"The telephone," said Chapman.
"Could it," muttered Kesselbach, "by any chance be...?" He took down
the instrument. "Hullo!... Who? The Colonel? Ah, good! Yes, it's I.
... Any news?... Good!... Then I shall expect you.... You
will come with one of your men? Very well.... What? No, we shan't be
disturbed.... I will give the necessary orders.... It's as serious
as that, is it?... I tell you, my instructions will be positive.
... my secretary and my man shall keep the door; and no one shall be
allowed in.... You know the way, don't you?... Then don't lose a
minute."
He hung up the receiver and said:
"Chapman, there are two gentlemen coming. Edwards will show them in.
..."
"But M. Gourel... the detective-sergeant....?"
"He will come later... in an hour.... And, even then, there's no
harm in their meeting. So send Edwards down to the office at once, to
tell them. I am at home to nobody... except two gentlemen, the
Colonel and his friend, and M. Gourel. He must make them take down the
names."
Chapman did as he was asked. When he returned to the room, he found Mr.
Kesselbach holding in his hand an envelope, or, rather, a little
pocket-case, in black morocco leather, apparently empty. He seemed to
hesitate, as though he did not know what to do with it. Should he put
it in his pocket or lay it down elsewhere? At last he went to the
mantelpiece and threw the leather envelope into his traveling-bag:
"Let us finish the mail, Chapman. We have ten minutes left. Ah, a letter
from Mrs. Kesselbach! Why didn't you tell me of it, Chapman? Didn't you
recognize the handwriting?"
He made no attempt to conceal the emotion which he felt in touching and
contemplating that paper which his wife had held in her fingers and to
which she had added a look of her eyes, an atom of her scent, a
suggestion of her secret thoughts. He inhaled its perfume and, unsealing
it, read the letter slowly in an undertone, in fragments that reached
Chapman's ears:
"Feeling a little tired.... Shall keep my room
to-day.... I feel so bored.... When can I come
to you? I am longing for your wire...."
"You telegraphed this morning, Chapman? Then Mrs. Kesselbach will be
here to-morrow, Wednesday."
He seemed quite gay, as though the weight of his business had been
suddenly relieved and he freed from all anxiety. He rubbed his hands and
heaved a deep breath, like a strong man certain of success, like a lucky
man who possessed happiness and who was big enough to defend himself.
"There's some one ringing, Chapman, some one ringing at the hall door.
Go and see who it is."
But Edwards entered and said:
"Two gentlemen asking for you, sir. They are the ones...."
"I know. Are they there, in the lobby?"
"Yes, sir."
"Close the hall-door and don't open it again except to M. Gourel, the
detective-sergeant. You go and bring the gentlemen in, Chapman, and tell
them that I would like to speak to the Colonel first, to the Colonel
alone."
Edwards and Chapman left the room, shutting the door after them. Rudolf
Kesselbach went to the window and pressed his forehead against the
glass.
Outside, just below his eyes, the carriages and motor-cars rolled along
in parallel furrows, marked by the double line of refuges. A bright
spring sun made the brass-work and the varnish gleam again. The trees
were putting forth their first green shoots; and the buds of the tall
chestnuts were beginning to unfold their new-born leaves.
"What on earth is Chapman doing?" muttered Kesselbach. "The time he
wastes in palavering!..."
He took a cigarette from the table, lit it and drew a few puffs. A faint
exclamation escaped him. Close before him stood a man whom he did not
know.
He started back:
"Who are you?"
The man--he was a well-dressed individual, rather smart-looking, with
dark hair, a dark moustache and hard eyes--the man gave a grin:
"Who am I? Why, the Colonel!"
"No, no.... The one I call the Colonel, the one who writes to me
under that... adopted... signature... is not you!"
"Yes, yes... the other was only... But, my dear sir, all this, you
know, is not of the smallest importance. The essential thing is that I
... am myself. And that, I assure you, I _am_!"
"But your name, sir?..."
"The Colonel... until further orders."
Mr. Kesselbach was seized with a growing fear. Who was this man? What
did he want with him?
He called out:
"Chapman!"
"What a funny idea, to call out! Isn't my company enough for you?"
"Chapman!" Mr. Kesselbach cried again. "Chapman! Edwards!"
"Chapman! Edwards!" echoed the stranger, in his turn. "What are you
doing? You're wanted!"
"Sir, I ask you, I order you to let me pass."
"But, my dear sir, who's preventing you?"
He politely made way. Mr. Kesselbach walked to the door, opened it and
gave a sudden jump backward. Behind the door stood another man, pistol
in hand. Kesselbach stammered:
"Edwards... Chap..."
He did not finish. In a corner of the lobby he saw his secretary and his
servant lying side by side on the floor, gagged and bound.
Mr. Kesselbach, notwithstanding his nervous and excitable nature, was
not devoid of physical courage; and the sense of a definite danger,
instead of depressing him, restored all his elasticity and vigor.
Pretending dismay and stupefaction, he moved slowly back to the
chimneypiece and leant against the wall. His hand felt for the electric
bell. He found it and pressed the button without removing his finger.
"Well?" asked the stranger.
Mr. Kesselbach made no reply and continued to press the button.
"Well? Do you expect they will come, that the whole hotel is in
commotion, because you are pressing that bell? Why, my dear sir, look
behind you and you will see that the wire is cut!"
Mr. Kesselbach turned round sharply, as though he wanted to make sure;
but, instead, with a quick movement, he seized the traveling-bag, thrust
his hand into it, grasped a revolver, aimed it at the man and pulled the
trigger.
"Whew!" said the stranger. "So you load your weapons with air and
silence?"
The cock clicked a second time and a third, but there was no report.
"Three shots more, Lord of the Cape! I shan't be satisfied till you've
lodged six bullets in my carcass. What! You give up? That's a pity...
you were making excellent practice!"
He took hold of a chair by the back, spun it round, sat down a-straddle
and, pointing to an arm-chair, said:
"Won't you take a seat, my dear sir, and make yourself at home? A
cigarette? Not for me, thanks: I prefer a cigar."
There was a box on the table: he selected an Upmann, light in color and
flawless in shape, lit it and, with a bow:
"Thank you! That's a perfect cigar. And now let's have a chat, shall
we?"
Rudolf Kesselbach listened to him in amazement. Who could this strange
person be?... Still, at the sight of his visitor sitting there so
quiet and so chatty, he became gradually reassured and began to think
that the situation might come to an end without any need to resort to
violence or brute force.
He took out a pocket-book, opened it, displayed a respectable bundle of
bank-notes and asked:
"How much?"
The other looked at him with an air of bewilderment, as though he found
a difficulty in understanding what Kesselbach meant. Then, after a
moment, he called:
"Marco!"
The man with the revolver stepped forward.
"Marco, this gentleman is good enough to offer you a few bits of paper
for your young woman. Take them, Marco."
Still aiming his revolver with his right hand, Marco put out his left,
took the notes and withdrew.
"Now that this question is settled according to your wishes," resumed
the stranger, "let us come to the object of my visit. I will be brief
and to the point. I want two things. In the first place, a little black
morocco pocket-case, shaped like an envelope, which you generally carry
on you. Secondly, a small ebony box, which was in that traveling-bag
yesterday. Let us proceed in order. The morocco case?"
"Burnt."
The stranger knit his brows. He must have had a vision of the good old
days when there were peremptory methods of making the contumacious
speak:
"Very well. We shall see about that. And the ebony box?"
"Burnt."
"Ah," he growled, "you're getting at me, my good man!" He twisted the
other's arm with a pitiless hand. "Yesterday, Rudolf Kesselbach, you
walked into the Credit Lyonnais, on the Boulevard des Italiens, hiding a
parcel under your overcoat. You hired a safe... let us be exact: safe
No. 16, in recess No. 9. After signing the book and paying your
safe-rent, you went down to the basement; and, when you came up again,
you no longer had your parcel with you. Is that correct?"
"Quite."
"Then the box and the pocket-case are at the Credit Lyonnais?"
"No."
"Give me the key of your safe."
"No."
"Marco!"
Marco ran up.
"Look sharp, Marco! The quadruple knot!"
Before he had even time to stand on the defensive, Rudolf Kesselbach was
tied up in a network of cords that cut into his flesh at the least
attempt which he made to struggle. His arms were fixed behind his back,
his body fastened to the chair and his legs tied together like the legs
of a mummy.
"Search him, Marco."
Marco searched him. Two minutes after, he handed his chief a little
flat, nickel-plated key, bearing the numbers 16 and 9.
"Capital. No morocco pocket-case?"
"No, governor."
"It is in the safe. Mr. Kesselbach, will you tell me the secret cypher
that opens the lock?"
"No."
"You refuse?"
"Yes."
"Marco!"
"Yes, governor."
"Place the barrel of your revolver against the gentleman's temple."
"It's there."
"Now put your finger to the trigger."
"Ready."
"Well, Kesselbach, old chap, do you intend to speak?"
"No."
"I'll give you ten seconds, and not one more. Marco!"
"Yes, governor."
"In ten seconds, blow out the gentleman's brains."
"Right you are, governor."
"Kesselbach, I'm counting. One, two, three, four, five, six..."
Rudolph Kesselbach made a sign.
"You want to speak?"
"Yes."
"You're just in time. Well, the cypher... the word for the lock?"
"Dolor."
"Dolor... Dolor... Mrs. Kesselbach's name is Dolores, I believe?
You dear boy!... Marco, go and do as I told you.... No mistake,
mind! I'll repeat it: meet Jerome at the omnibus office, give him the
key, tell him the word: Dolor. Then, the two of you, go to the Credit
Lyonnais. Jerome is to walk in alone, sign the name-book, go down to the
basement and bring away everything in the safe. Do you quite
understand?"
"Yes, governor. But if the safe shouldn't open; if the word Dolor..."
"Silence, Marco. When you come out of the Credit Lyonnais, you must
leave Jerome, go to your own place and telephone the result of the
operation to me. Should the word Dolor by any chance fail to open the
safe, we (my friend Rudolf Kesselbach and I) will have one... _last_
... interview. Kesselbach, you're quite sure you're not mistaken?"
"Yes."
"That means that you rely upon the futility of the search. We shall see.
Be off, Marco!"
"What about you, governor?"
"I shall stay. Oh, I'm not afraid! I've never been in less danger than
at this moment. Your orders about the door were positive, Kesselbach,
were they not?"
"Yes."
"Dash it all, you seemed very eager to get that said! Can you have been
trying to gain time? If so, I should be caught in a trap like a fool.
..." He stopped to think, looked at his prisoner and concluded, "No
... it's not possible... we shall not be disturbed..."
He had not finished speaking, when the door-bell rang. He pressed his
hand violently on Rudolf Kesselbach's mouth:
"Oh, you old fox, you were expecting some one!"
The captive's eyes gleamed with hope. He could be heard chuckling under
the hand that stifled him.
The stranger shook with rage:
"Hold your tongue, or I'll strangle you! Here, Marco, gag him! Quick!
... That's it!"
The bell rang again. He shouted, as though he himself were Kesselbach
and as though Edwards were still there:
"Why don't you open the door, Edwards?"
Then he went softly into the lobby and, pointing to the secretary and
the manservant, whispered:
"Marco, help me shift these two into the bedroom... over there...
so that they can't be seen."
He lifted the secretary. Marco carried the servant.
"Good! Now go back to the sitting-room."
He followed him in and at once returned to the lobby and said, in a loud
tone of astonishment:
"Why, your man's not here, Mr. Kesselbach.... No, don't move...
finish your letter.... I'll go myself."
And he quietly opened the hall-door.
"Mr. Kesselbach?"
He found himself faced by a sort of jovial, bright-eyed giant, who stood
swinging from one foot to the other and twisting the brim of his hat
between his fingers. He answered:
"Yes, that's right. Who shall I say...?"
"Mr. Kesselbach telephoned.... He expects me...."
"Oh, it's you.... I'll tell him.... Do you mind waiting a minute?
... Mr. Kesselbach will speak to you."
He had the audacity to leave the visitor standing on the threshold of
the little entrance-hall, at a place from which he could see a portion
of the sitting-room through the open door, and, slowly, without so much
as turning round, he entered the room, went to his confederate by Mr.
Kesselbach's side and whispered:
"We're done! It's Gourel, the detective...."
The other drew his knife. He caught him by the arm:
"No nonsense! I have an idea. But, for God's sake, Marco, understand me
and speak in your turn. Speak _as if you were Kesselbach_.... You
hear, Marco! You _are_ Kesselbach."
He expressed himself so coolly, so forcibly and with such authority that
Marco understood, without further explanation, that he himself was to
play the part of Kesselbach. Marco said, so as to be heard:
"You must apologize for me, my dear fellow. Tell M. Gourel I'm awfully
sorry, but I'm over head and ears in work.... I will see him
to-morrow morning, at nine... yes, at nine o'clock punctually."
"Good!" whispered the other. "Don't stir."
He went back to the lobby, found Gourel waiting, and said:
"Mr. Kesselbach begs you to excuse him. He is finishing an important
piece of work. Could you possibly come back at nine o'clock to-morrow
morning?"
There was a pause. Gourel seemed surprised, more or less bothered and
undecided. The other man's hand clutched the handle of a knife at the
bottom of his pocket. At the first suspicious movement, he was prepared
to strike.
At last, Gourel said:
"Very well.... At nine o'clock to-morrow.... But, all the same
... However, I shall be here at nine to-morrow...."
And, putting on his hat, he disappeared down the passage of the hotel.
Marco, in the sitting-room, burst out laughing:
"That was jolly clever of you, governor! Oh, how nicely you spoofed
him!"
"Look alive, Marco, and follow him. If he leaves the hotel, let him be,
meet Jerome at the omnibus-office as arranged... and telephone."
Marco went away quickly.
Then the man took a water-bottle on the chimneypiece, poured himself out
a tumblerful, which he swallowed at a draught, wetted his handkerchief,
dabbed his forehead, which was covered with perspiration, and then sat
down beside his prisoner and, with an affectation of politeness, said:
"But I must really have the honor, Mr. Kesselbach, of introducing myself
to you."
And, taking a card from his pocket, he said: "Allow me.... Arsene
Lupin, gentleman-burglar."
* * * * *
The name of the famous adventurer seemed to make the best of impressions
upon Mr. Kesselbach. Lupin did not fail to observe the fact and
exclaimed:
"Aha, my dear sir, you breathe again! Arsene Lupin is a delicate,
squeamish burglar. He loathes bloodshed, he has never committed a more
serious crime than that of annexing other people's property... a mere
peccadillo, eh? And what you're saying to yourself is that he is not
going to burden his conscience with a useless murder. Quite so....
But will your destruction be so useless as all that? Everything depends
on the answer. And I assure you that I'm not larking at present. Come
on, old chap!"
He drew up his chair beside the arm-chair, removed the prisoner's gag
and, speaking very plainly:
"Mr. Kesselbach," he said, "on the day when you arrived in Paris you
entered into relations with one Barbareux, the manager of a confidential
inquiry agency; and, as you were acting without the knowledge of your
secretary, Chapman, it was arranged that the said Barbareux, when
communicating with you by letter or telephone, should call himself 'the
Colonel.' I hasten to tell you that Barbareux is a perfectly honest man.
But I have the good fortune to number one of his clerks among my own
particular friends. That is how I discovered the motive of your
application to Barbareux and how I came to interest myself in you and to
make a search or two here, with the assistance of a set of false keys
... in the course of which search or two, I may as well tell you, I
did not find what I was looking for."
He lowered his voice and, with his eyes fixed on the eyes of his
prisoner, watching his expression, searching his secret thoughts, he
uttered these words:
"Mr. Kesselbach, your instructions to Barbareux were that he should find
a man hidden somewhere in the slums of Paris who bears or used to bear
the name of Pierre Leduc. The man answers to this brief description:
height, five feet nine inches; hair and complexion, fair; wears a
moustache. Special mark: the tip of the little finger of the left hand
is missing, as the result of a cut. Also, he has an almost imperceptible
scar on the right cheek. You seem to attach enormous importance to this
man's discovery, as though it might lead to some great advantage to
yourself. Who is the man?"
"I don't know."
The answer was positive, absolute. Did he know or did he not know? It
made little difference. The great thing was that he was determined not
to speak.
"Very well," said his adversary, "but you have fuller particulars about
him than those with which you furnished Barbareux."
"I have not."
"You lie, Mr. Kesselbach. Twice, in Barbareux's presence, you consulted
papers contained in the morocco case."
"I did."
"And the case?"
"Burnt."
Lupin quivered with rage. The thought of torture and of the facilities
which it used to offer was evidently passing through his mind again.
"Burnt? But the box?... Come, own up... confess that the box is at
the Credit Lyonnais."
"Yes."
"And what's inside it?"
"The finest two hundred diamonds in my private collection."
This statement did not seem to displease the adventurer.
"Aha, the finest two hundred diamonds! But, I say, that's a fortune!
... Yes, that makes you smile.... It's a trifle to you, no doubt.
... And your secret is worth more than that.... To you, yes...
but to me?..."
He took a cigar, lit a match, which he allowed to go out again
mechanically, and sat for some time thinking, | 276.854384 |
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THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS
or, KRZYZACY
Historical Romance
By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
Author Of "Quo Vadis," "The Deluge," "With Fire And Sword,"
"Pan Michael," Etc., Etc.
Translated From The Original Polish By Samuel A. Binion
Author Of "Ancient Egypt," Etc. Translator Of "Quo Vadis," Etc.
[Illustration: BUST OF HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ]
HON. WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL.D.
Commissioner of Education
My Dear Doctor:--
This translation, of one of the greatest novels of Poland's foremost
modern writer, Henryk Sienkiewicz, I beg to dedicate to you. Apart for my
high personal regard for you, my reason for selecting you among all my
literary friends, is: that you are a historian and philosopher, and can
therefore best appreciate works of this kind.
SAMUEL A. BINION,
New York City.
To the Reader.
Here you have, gentle reader--old writers always called you
gentle--something very much more than a novel to amuse an idle hour. To
read it will be enjoyable pastime, no doubt; but the brilliant romance of
the brilliant author calls upon you for some exercise of the finest
sympathy and intelligence; sympathy for a glorious nation which, with
only one exception, has suffered beyond all other nations; intelligence,
of the sources of that unspeakable and immeasurable love and of the great
things that may | 276.954419 |
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E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Stephanie Eason, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
STORYOLOGY:
Essays in Folk-Lore, Sea-Lore, and Plant-Lore
by
BENJAMIN TAYLOR.
London:
Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster Row, E.C.
1900.
To
HER MEMORY
IN
WHOSE DEAR COMPANIONSHIP
THESE PAPERS
WERE WRITTEN
PREFACE.
The principal object of this Foreword is to inform the expert
Folkloreist and the case-hardened Mythologist (comparative or otherwise)
that the following pages are intended for those who, being neither
expert nor case-hardened, come under that gracious and catholic
term--general reader. The writer addresses not the scholiast, but the
ordinary person who likes to read about what he has not time to study.
Some portion of what is here printed has appeared in a once popular
magazine now defunct. The author hastens to add, for the relief of the
irreverent, that the journal long survived the ordeal of the
publication. Nevertheless this book appears on its merits, or otherwise,
and seeks no support from past attainment. Neither does it make any
pretension to originality of matter or method, though it may, perhaps,
contain one or two new ideas.
It is unnecessary to add that the publication is made only at the
tearful entreaty of multitudinous friends. That, of course, is well
understood among myth-hunters.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE vii
I. STORYOLOGY 1
II. THE MAGIC WAND 23
III. THE MAGIC MIRROR 41
IV. THE MAGIC MOON 58
V. THE DEVIL'S CANDLE 78
VI. THE SEA AND ITS LEGENDS 91
VII. MOTHER CAREY AND HER CHICKENS 104
VIII. DAVY JONES'S LOCKER 113
IX. SOME FLOWERS OF FANCY 121
X. ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE 137
XI. HERB OF GRACE 149
XII. THE ROMANCE OF A VEGETABLE 163
XIII. THE STORY OF A TUBER 176
XIV. THE CENTRE OF THE WORLD 188
INDEX 201
STORYOLOGY.
CHAPTER I.
STORYOLOGY.
I.
What is a myth?
According to Webster, it is 'a fabulous or imaginary statement or
narrative conveying an important truth, generally of a moral or
religious nature: an allegory, religious or historical, of spontaneous
growth and popular origin, generally involving some supernatural or
superhuman claim or power; a tale of some extraordinary personage or
country that has been gradually formed by, or has grown out of, the
admiration and veneration of successive generations.' Here is a choice
of three definitions, but not one of them is by itself satisfying. Let
us rather say that a myth is a tradition in narrative form, more or less
current in more or less differing garb among different races, to which
religious or superhuman significations may be ascribable. We say'may
be' ascribable because, although the science of comparative mythology
always seeks for such significations, it is probable that the modern
interpretations are often as different from the original meaning as
certain abstruse'readings' of Shakespeare are from the poet's own
thoughts.
In their introduction to Tales of the Teutonic Lands, Cox and Jones
declare that the whole series of Arthurian legends are pure myths. These
tales, they say, can be 'traced back to their earliest forms in phrases
which spoke not of men and women, but of the Dawn which drives her white
herds to their pastures'--the white clouds being the guardians of the
cattle of the Sun--'of the Sun which slays the dew whom he loves, of the
fiery dragon which steals the cattle of the lord of light, or the Moon
which wanders with her myriad children through the heaven.' It is
claimed that 'a strict etymological connection has been established'
with regard to a large number of these and similar stories, 'but the
link which binds the myth of the Hellenic Hephaistos with that of the
Vedic Agni justifies the inference that both these myths reappear in
those of Regin and of Wayland, or, in other words, that the story of the
Dame of the Fine Green Kirtle is the story of Medeia, and that the tale
of Helen is the legend of the loves of Conall Gulban. Elsewhere one
reads that in the myth of Endymion, the Sun who has sunk to his
dreamless sleep, the Moon appears as Asterodia journeying with her fifty
daughters through the sky. 'In the Christian myth she becomes St. Ursula
with her eleven thousand virgins--this Ursula again appearing in the
myth of Tannhaeuser, as the occupant of the Horselberg, and as the fairy
queen in the tale of True Thomas of Ercildoune.' By the same method of
comparative mythology, the whole series of the Arthurian stories are
placed 'in that large family of heroic legends which have their origin
in mythical phrases describing the phenomena of the outward world, and
more especially those of the day and of the year.'
This seems hard, for it compels us to believe that our remote ancestors
were very much more intelligent, and imaginative, and poetical, and
religious than anything else which they have sent down to us would have
suggested. It is true that Cox and Jones do not deny that the names
which figure in many of these legends, as in those of Greece, may have
been the names of real personages, but yet the narrative, they say, must
not be taken as historical. This may be true, but in what sense can we
regard it as more probable that the story-makers invented allegories,
and clothed them with the names of contemporary or preceding heroes,
than that they invented tales of wonder to fit these heroes? Is it
easier to believe, for instance, that Arthur came after the myths, and
was tacked on to them, than that the myths, or stories, came after
Arthur, and were tacked on to him? Is there anything in the story of St.
Ursula and her virgins which could not have had natural'spontaneous
growth' in an age of deep devotional faith in miracles, that we must be
compelled to regard it as purely a mediaevalized version of the Greek
myth of the sun and moon?
I am not writing for experts and scholars, and therefore do not use the
scientific terms and allusions familiar to students of these matters. I
am merely writing for ordinary persons, who are often puzzled and pained
by the extraordinary meanings which specialists contrive to twist out of
simple and familiar things. It is not too much to say that the
professional mythologists are among the most troublesome meddlers who
disturb the repose of '_the average reader_.' Even Mr. Ruskin suffers in
this connection. In The Queen of the Air he has given us one of his most
delightful books, but there are probably few, outside the circle of
philologists and comparative mythologists, who have not thought in
reading the lovely interpretations of the myths of Athena, that there
was more of Ruskin than of the Ancient Greek in the meaning evolved.
Somehow, it seems easier to think that these things were conceived by a
Professor of Art in the nineteenth century, than that they were the
deliberate convictions of a primitive people ever so many centuries
before Christ--a people, too, known to be steeped in sensualities, and
addicted to very barbarous practices.
Are there, then, reasons for supposing that comparative mythologists are
not always right--that, in fact, their science is but a doubtful science
after all? Mr. Andrew Lang boldly says that there are. In Custom and
Myth his object is to show the connection between savage customs--or
rather the customs of savage and uncivilized races--and ancient myths.
But before this branch of Storyology is reached, we must consider the
question of the relation between our familiar nursery-tales, the
folk-lore of our own and other countries, and the old romances, with
these same myths. There is something more than monotony in the theory
which'resolves most of our old romances into a series of remarks about
the weather.' The author of Primitive Culture (Mr. Tylor) rebels against
this theory. There is no legend, no allegory, no nursery-rhyme, he says,
safe | 277.454429 |
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THE FATAL BOOTS.
by William Makepeace Thackeray
THE FATAL BOOTS:--
January.--The Birth of the Year
February.--Cutting Weather
March.--Showery
April.--Fooling
May.--Restoration Day
June.--Marrowbones and Cleavers
July.--Summary Proceedings
August.--Dogs have their Days
September.--Plucking a Goose
October.--Mars and Venus in Opposition
November.--A General Post Delivery
December.--"The Winter of Our Discontent"
THE FATAL BOOTS
JANUARY.--THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR.
Some poet has observed, that if any man would write down what has really
happened to him in this mortal life, he would be sure to make a good
book, though he never had met with a single adventure from his birth to
his burial. How much more, then, must I, who HAVE had adventures, most
singular, pathetic, and unparalleled, be able to compile an instructive
and entertaining volume for the use of the public.
I don't mean to say that I have killed lions, or seen the wonders of
travel in the deserts of Arabia or Prussia; or that I have been a very
fashionable character, living with dukes and peeresses, and writing my
recollections of them, as | 277.55774 |
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Produced by Charlene Taylor, Bryan Ness, Les Galloway and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
BUDDHIST BIRTH STORIES;
OR,
JĀTAKA TALES.
THE OLDEST COLLECTION OF FOLK-LORE EXTANT:
BEING
THE JĀTAKATTHAVAṆṆANĀ,
_For the first time Edited in the Original Pāli_
BY V. FAUSBÖLL,
AND TRANSLATED
BY T. W. RHYS DAVIDS.
TRANSLATION.
_VOLUME I._
LONDON:
TRÜBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL.
1880.
[_All rights reserved._]
HERTFORD:
PRINTED BY STEPHEN AUSTIN AND SONS.
TO
GEHEIM-RATH PROFESSOR DOCTOR
STENZLER
MY FIRST GUIDE IN ORIENTAL STUDIES
IN CONGRATULATION ON HIS ‘DOCTOR JUBILÄUM’
AND IN DEEP RESPECT FOR HIS PROFOUND SCHOLARSHIP
THIS WORK IS DEDICATED BY
HIS GRATEFUL PUPIL
THE AUTHOR.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION. PAGE
PART I.
_The Book of Birth Stories, and their Migration to the West._
Orthodox Buddhist belief concerning it. Two reasons
for the value attached to it i-iv
Selected Stories.--1. The Ass in the Lion’s Skin v
2. The Talkative Tortoise viii
3. The Jackal and the Crow xii
4. The Wise Judge xiv
5. Sakka’s Presents xvi
6. A Lesson for Kings xxii
The Kalilag and Damnag Literature xxix
Origin of ‘Æsop’s’ Fables xxxii
The Barlaam and Josaphat Literature xxxvi
Other Migrations of the Buddhist Tales xli
Greek and Buddhist Fables xliii
Solomon’s Judgment xliv
Summary of Part I. xlviii
PART II.
_The Birth Stories in India._
Jātakas derived from the Pāli Piṭakas lii
Jātakas in the Cariyā Piṭaka and Jātaka Mālā liii
Jātakas in the Buddhavaŋsa lv
Jātakas at the Council of Vesāli lvii
Jātakas on the Ancient Sculptures lix
The Pāli Names of the Jātakas lx
The Jātakas one of the Navaŋgāni lxii
Authorship of our present Collection lxiii
Jātakas not included in our present Collection lxvii
Jātakas in post-Buddhistic Sanskrit Literature lxviii
Form of the Jātakas.--The Introductory Stories lxxiv
The Conclusions lxxv
The Abhisambuddha-gāthā, or
Verses in the Conclusion lxxvi
Divisions of the Jātaka Book lxxix
Actual Number of the Stories lxxxi
Summary of the Origin of the Present Collection lxxxii
Special Lessons inculcated by the Birth Stories lxxxv
Special Historical Value of the Birth Stories lxxxvi
SUPPLEMENTARY TABLES.
I. Indian Works lxxxix
II. The Kalilag and Damnag Literature xciii
III. The Barlaam and Josaphat Literature xcv
IV. The Cariyā Piṭaka and the Jātaka Mālā xcviii
V. Alphabetical List of Jātaka Stories in the
Mahāvastu xcix
VI. Places at which the Tales were Told c
VII. The Bodisats ci
VIII. Jātakas Illustrated in Bas-relief on the Ancient
Monuments cii
THE CEYLON COMPILER’S INTRODUCTION, called the
_Nidāna Kathā_.
Story of Sumedha, the First Bodisat 2
The Successive Bodisats in the Times of the Previous
Buddhas 31
Life of the Last Bodisat (who became Buddha) 58
His Descent from Heaven 59
His Birth 67
Song of the Angels 69
Prophecy of Kāḷa Devala 70
Prophecy of the Brāhman Priests 72
The Ploughing Festival 75
The Young Bodisat’s Skill and Wisdom 76
The Four Visions 77
The Bodisat’s Son is Born 79
Kisā Gotamī’s Song 80
The Great Renunciation 82
The Great Struggle against Sin 89
The Great Victory over Satan 96
The Bliss of Nirvāna 105
The Hesitation whether to Publish the Good News 111
The Foundation of the Kingdom of Righteousness 113
Uruvela Kassapa’s Conversion 114
Triumphal Entrance into Rājagaha 116
Foundation of the Order 119
Return Home 121
Presentation of the First Monastery to the Buddha 131
THE BIRTH STORIES.
1. Holding to the Truth... Apaṇṇaka Jātaka 134
2. The Sandy Road... Vaṇṇupatha Jātaka 147
3. The Merchant of Sēri... Seri-vānija Jātaka 153
4. The Story of Chullaka the Treasurer... Cullaka-seṭṭhi
Jātaka 158
5. The Measure of Rice... Taṇḍula-nāḷi Jātaka 172
6. On True Divinity... Deva-dhamma Jātaka 178
9. The Story of Makhā Deva... Makhā-deva Jātaka 186
10. The Happy Life... Sukhavihāri Jātaka 190
11. The Story of Beauty... Lakkhaṇa Jātaka 194
12. The Banyan Deer... Nigrodha-miga Jātaka 199
13. The Dart of Love... Kaṇḍina Jātaka 211
14. The Greedy Antelope... Vātamiga Jātaka 214
15. The Deer who would not Learn... Kharādiyā
Jātaka 219
16. The Cunning Deer... Tipallatha-miga Jātaka 221
17. The Wind... Māluta Jātaka 224
18. On Offering Food to the Dead... Mataka-bhatta
Jātaka 226
19. On Offerings given under a Vow... Āyācita-bhatta
Jātaka 230
20. The Monkeys and the Demon... Naḷapāna Jātaka 232
21. The Wily Antelope... Kurunga-miga Jātaka 237
22. The Dog who turned Preacher... Kukkura
Jātaka 240
23. The Bhoja Thoroughbred... Bhojājānīya Jātaka 245
24. The Thoroughbred War Horse... Ājañña Jātaka 249
25. The Horse at the Ford... Tittha Jātaka 251
26. Evil communications corrupt good manners...
Mahilā-mukha Jātaka 257
27. The Elephant and the Dog... Abhiṇha Jātaka 263
28. The Bull who Won the Bet... Nandi-Visāla
Jātaka 266
29. The Old Woman’s Black Bull... Kaṇha Jātaka 270
30. The Ox who Envied the Pig... Muṇika Jātaka 275
31. On Mercy to Animals... Kulāvaka Jātaka 278
32. The Dancing Peacock... Nacca Jātaka 291
33. The sad Quarrel of the Quails... Sammodamāna
Jātaka 295
34. The Fish and his Wife... Maccha Jātaka 299
35. The Holy Quail... Vaṭṭaka Jātaka 302
36. The Wise Bird and the Fools... Sakuṇa Jātaka 307
37. The Partridge, Monkey, and Elephant... Tittira
Jātaka 310
38. The Cruel Crane Outwitted... Baka Jātaka 315
39. Nanda on the Buried Gold... Nanda Jātaka 322
40. The Fiery Furnace... Khadirangāra Jātaka 326
INDEX 339
INTRODUCTION.
It is well known that amongst the Buddhist Scriptures there is one book
in which a large number of old stories, fables, and fairy tales, lie
enshrined in an edifying commentary; and have thus been preserved for
the study and amusement of later times. How this came about is not at
present quite certain. The belief of orthodox Buddhists on the subject
is this. The Buddha, as occasion arose, was accustomed throughout his
long career to explain and comment on the events happening around him,
by telling of similar events that had occurred in his own previous
births. The experience, not of one lifetime only, but of many lives,
was always present to his mind; and it was this experience he so
often used to point a moral, or adorn a tale. The stories so told are
said to have been reverently learnt and repeated by his disciples;
and immediately after his death 550 of them were gathered together
in one collection, called the Book of the 550 Jātakas or Births; the
commentary to which gives for each Jātaka, or Birth Story, an account
of the event in Gotama’s life which led to his first telling that
particular story. Both text and commentary were then handed down
intact, and in the Pāli language in which they were composed, to the
time of the Council of Patna (held in or about the year 250 B.C.);
and they were carried in the following year to Ceylon by the great
missionary Mahinda. There the commentary was translated into Siŋhalese,
the Aryan dialect spoken in Ceylon; and was re-translated into its
present form in the Pāli language in the fifth century of our era. But
the text of the Jātaka stories themselves has been throughout preserved
in its original Pāli form.
Unfortunately this orthodox Buddhist belief as to the history of
the Book of Birth Stories rests on a foundation of quicksand. The
Buddhist belief, that most of their sacred books were in existence
immediately after the Buddha’s death, is not only not supported, but
is contradicted by the evidence of those books themselves. It may be
necessary to state what that belief is, in order to show the importance
which the Buddhists attach to the book; but in order to estimate the
value we ourselves should give it, it will be necessary by critical,
and more roundabout methods, to endeavour to arrive at some more
reliable conclusion. Such an investigation cannot, it is true, be
completed until the whole series of the Buddhist Birth Stories shall
have become accessible in the original Pāli text, and the history
of those stories shall have been traced in other sources. With the
present inadequate information at our command, it is only possible to
arrive at probabilities. But it is therefore the more fortunate that
the course of the inquiry will lead to some highly interesting and
instructive results.
In the first place, the fairy tales, parables, fables, riddles, and
comic and moral stories, of which the Buddhist Collection--known as the
Jātaka Book--consists, have been found, in many instances, to bear a
striking resemblance to similar ones current in the West. Now in many
instances this resemblance is simply due to the fact that the _Western
stories were borrowed from the Buddhist ones_.
To this resemblance much of the interest excited by the Buddhist Birth
Stories is, very naturally, due. As, therefore, the stories translated
in the body of this volume do not happen to contain among them any
of those most generally known in England, I insert here one or two
specimens which may at the same time afford some amusement, and also
enable the reader to judge how far the alleged resemblances do actually
exist.
It is absolutely essential for the correctness of such judgment
that the stories should be presented exactly as they stand in the
original. I am aware that a close and literal translation involves the
disadvantage of presenting the stories in a style which will probably
seem strange, and even wooden, to the modern reader. But it cannot be
admitted that, for even purposes of comparison, it would be sufficient
to reproduce the stories in a modern form which should aim at combining
substantial accuracy with a pleasing dress.
And the Book of Birth Stories has a value quite independent of the fact
that many of its tales have been transplanted to the West. It contains
a record of the every-day life, and every-day thought, of the people
among whom the tales were told: it is _the oldest, most complete, and
most important Collection of Folk-lore extant_.
The whole value of its evidence in this respect would be lost, if a
translator, by slight additions in some places, slight omissions in
others, and slight modifications here and there, should run the risk
of conveying erroneous impressions of early Buddhist beliefs, and
habits, and modes of thought. It is important, therefore, that the
reader should understand, before reading the stories I intend to give,
that while translating sentence by sentence, rather than word by word,
I have never lost sight of the importance of retaining in the English
version, as far as possible, not only the phraseology, but the style
and spirit of the Buddhist story-teller.
The first specimen I propose to give is a half-moral half-comic story | 277.796074 |
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Story of the Nations
A Series of Historical Studies intended to present
in graphic narratives the stories of the different
nations that have attained prominence in history.
In the story form the current of each national life is distinctly
indicated, and its picturesque and noteworthy periods and episodes
are presented for the reader in their philosophical relations to
each other as well as to universal history.
12º, Illustrated, cloth, each net $1.50
FOR FULL LIST SEE END OF THIS VOLUME.
[Illustration: CAPE HORN.
_Frontispiece_ [From a steel engraving.]]
THE STORY OF THE NATIONS
THE SOUTH AMERICAN
REPUBLICS
BY
THOMAS C. DAWSON
Secretary of the United States Legation to Brazil
IN TWO PARTS
_PART I_
ARGENTINA, PARAGUAY, URUGUAY, BRAZIL
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
COPYRIGHT 1903
BY
THOMAS C. DAWSON
Eighth Printing
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
TO MY WIFE
I DEDICATE THIS STUDY OF THE HISTORY
OF HER NATIVE CONTINENT
PREFACE
The question most frequently asked me since I began my stay in South
America has been: "Why do they have so many revolutions there?" Possibly
the events recounted in the following pages may help the reader to
answer this for himself. I hope that he will share my conviction that
militarism has already definitely disappeared from more than half the
continent and is slowly becoming less powerful in the remainder.
Constitutional traditions, inherited from Spain and Portugal, implanted
a tendency toward disintegration; Spanish and Portuguese tyranny bred
in the people a distrust of all rulers and governments; the war of
independence brought to the front military adventurers; civil disorders
were inevitable, and the search for forms of government that should be
final and stable has been very painful. On the other hand, the generous
impulse that prompted the movement toward independence has grown into an
earnest desire for ordered liberty, which is steadily spreading among
all classes. Civic capacity is increasing among the body of South
Americans and immigration is raising the industrial level. They are
slowly evolving among themselves the best form of government for their
special needs and conditions, and a citizen of the United States must
rejoice to see that that form is and will surely remain republican.
It is hard to secure from the tangle of events called South American
history a clearly defined picture. At the risk of repetition I have
tried to tell separately the story of each country, because each has its
special history and its peculiar characteristics. All of these states
have, however, had much in common and it is only in the case of the
larger nations that social and political conditions have been described
in detail. A study of either Argentina, Brazil, Chile, or Venezuela
is likely to throw most light on the political development of the
continent, while Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia are more interesting to the
seeker for local colour and the lover of the dramatic.
The South American histories so far written treat of special periods,
and few authorities exist for post-revolution times. Personal
observations through a residence of six years in South America;
conversations with public men, scholars, merchants, and proprietors;
newspapers and reviews, political pamphlets, books of travel, and
official publications, have furnished me with most of my material for
the period since 1825. The following books have been of use in the
preparation of the first volume, and are recommended to those who care
to follow up the subject:
ARGENTINA: Mitre's _Historia de Belgrano and Historia de San Martin_,
in Spanish; Torrente's _Revolucion Hispano-Americano_, in Spanish;
Lozano's _Conquista del Paraguay, La Plata y Tucuman_, in Spanish;
Funes's _Historia de Buenos Aires y Tucuman_, in Spanish; Lopez's
_Manuel de Historia Argentina_, in Spanish; Page's _La Plata_, in
English; Graham's _A Vanished Arcadia_, in English.
PARAGUAY: All of the above and Thompson's _Paraguayan War_, in English;
Washburn's _History of Paraguay_, in English; Fix's _Guerra de
Paraguay_, in Portuguese.
URUGUAY: Bauza's _Dominacion Espanola_, in Spanish; Berra's _Bosquejo
Historico_, in Spanish; Saint-Foix's _L'Uruguay_, in French.
BRAZIL: Southey's _History of the Brazil_, in English; Varnhagem's
_Historia do Brasil_, in Portuguese; Pereira da Silva's _Fundacao do
Imperio, Segundo Periodo, Historia do Brasil, e Historia do Meu Tempo_,
in Portuguese; Nabuco's _Estadista do Imperio_, in Portuguese; Rio
Branco's sketch in _Le Bresil en 1889_, in French; Oliveira Lima's
_Pernambuco_, in Portuguese.
All of the above books may be found in the Columbian Memorial Library of
the Bureau of American Republics at Washington, which, taken as a whole,
is one of the best collections on South America in existence.
T. C. D.
WASHINGTON, January 22, 1903.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTORY: THE DISCOVERIES AND THE CONQUEST 3
_ARGENTINA_
I. THE ARGENTINE LAND 37
II. THE SPANISH COLONIAL SYSTEM 47
III. THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 58
IV. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 70
V. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE REVOLUTION 80
VI. COMPLETION OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE 97
VII. THE ERA OF CIVIL WARS 115
VIII. CONSOLIDATION 130
IX. THE MODERN ARGENTINE 141
_PARAGUAY_
I. PARAGUAY UNTIL 1632 165
II. THE JESUIT REPUBLIC AND COLONIAL PARAGUAY 177
III. FRANCIA'S REIGN 188
IV. THE REIGN OF THE ELDER LOPEZ 198
V. THE WAR 206
VI. PARAGUAY SINCE 1870 220
_URUGUAY_
I. INTRODUCTION 227
II. PORTUGUESE AGGRESSIONS AND THE SETTLEMENT OF THE COUNTRY 239
III. THE REVOLUTION 247
IV. INDEPENDENCE AND CIVIL WAR 259
V. CIVIL WAR AND ARGENTINE INTERVENTION 265
VI. COLORADOS AND BLANCOS 272
_BRAZIL_
I. PORTUGAL 287
II. DISCOVERY 295
III. DESCRIPTION 305
IV. EARLY COLONISATION 316
V. THE JESUITS 326
VI. FRENCH OCCUPATION OF RIO 333
VII. EXPANSION 342
VIII. THE DUTCH CONQUEST 350
IX. EXPULSION OF THE DUTCH 361
X. THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 371
XI. GOLD DISCOVERIES--REVOLTS--FRENCH ATTACKS 378
XII. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 386
XIII. THE PORTUGUESE COURT IN RIO 401
XIV. INDEPENDENCE 411
XV. REIGN OF PEDRO I. 421
XVI. THE REGENCY 436
XVII. PEDRO II. 449
XVIII. EVENTS OF 1849 TO 1864 458
XIX. THE PARAGUAYAN WAR 468
XX. REPUBLICANISM AND EMANCIPATION 478
XXI. THE REVOLUTION--THE DICTATORSHIP--THE ESTABLISHMENT OF
THE REPUBLIC 492
INDEX 513
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
CAPE HORN _Frontispiece_
_From a steel engraving._
FERDINAND, KING OF SPAIN 6
_Redrawn from an old print._
FRANCISCO PIZARRO 9
_From Montain's "America."_
THE AUTHENTIC PORTRAIT OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 11
MINING SCENE 16
_Redrawn from Gottfriedt's "Neue Welt."_
A YOUNG GAUCHO 28
_From a lithograph._
FOREST SCENE IN ARGENTINA 39
_From a steel print._
DOCKS AT BUENOS AIRES 44
AN OLD SPANISH CORNER IN BUENOS AIRES 76
MANUEL BELGRANO 95
_From an oil painting._
GENERAL SAN MARTIN 99
_From a steel engraving._
PLAZA DE MAYO AND CATHEDRAL AT BUENOS AIRES 113
_From a lithograph._
BUENOS AIRES IN 1845 127
_From a steel engraving._
BARTOLOME MITRE 139
_From a steel engraving._
JULIO ROCA 145
GATEWAY OF THE CEMETERY AT BUENOS AIRES 151
_From a lithograph._
A RIVER ROAD IN ARGENTINA 159
_From a lithograph._
ASUNCION 167
GUAYRA FALLS 179
JOSE RODRIGUEZ GASPAR FRANCIA 193
_From an old woodcut._
FRANCISCO SOLANO LOPEZ 211
_From a photograph taken in 1849._
PALM GROVES IN EL CHACO 217
HARBOUR AT MONTEVIDEO 231
MONTEVIDEO 243
_From an old print._
BRIDGE AT MALDONADO 249
GENERAL DON JOSE GERVASIO ARTIGAS 257
_From an old woodcut._
THE SOLIS THEATRE 275
THE CATHEDRAL, MONTEVIDEO 283
OLD TOWER AT LISBON WHENCE THE FLEET SAILED 296
A TUPI VILLAGE 299
A GARDEN IN PETROPOLIS 307
BAHIA 324
PADRE JOSE DE ANCHIETA 330
_From an old-woodcut._
PLANTERS GOING TO CHURCH 337
_From an old print._
A CADEIRA 340
OLD FORT AT BAHIA 353
RIO GRANDE DO SUL 387
OLD RANCH IN RIO GRANDE 390
WASHING DIAMONDS 391
BOATS ON THE RIO GRANDE 395
_From a steel print._
DOM JOHN VI. 403
_From an old woodcut._
DOM PEDRO I. 414
_From an old woodcut._
DOM JOSE BONIFACIO DE ANDRADA 418
_From a steel print._
EVARISTO FERREIRA DA VEIGA 431
_From a steel engraving._
DONNA JANUARIA 445
_From a steel engraving._
DOM PEDRO II. 447
_From a steel engraving._
BARON OF CAXIAS 453
_From an old woodcut._
PRINCESS ISABEL IN 1889 456
PAMPAS OF THE RIO GRANDE 460
OLD MARKET IN SAO PAULO 465
GOVERNER'S PALACE IN SAO PAULO 469
HOSPITAL AND OLD CHURCH AT PORTO ALEGRE 475
BRIDGE AT MENDANHA 480
CITY OF OURO PRETO 483
EMPEROR DOM PEDRO IN 1889 491
MILITARY SCHOOL OF RIO JANEIRO 493
GENERAL BENJAMIN CONSTANT 496
_From a woodcut._
THE EMPRESS IN 1889 498
AMERICAN LEGATION NEAR RIO 505
CAMPOS SALLES 510
_From a woodcut._
MAPS
MAP OF ARGENTINA, PARAGUAY, URUGUAY, BOLIVIA, AND CHILE 38
OUTLINE MAP OF BRAZIL 288
MAP OF SOUTH AMERICA _At end_
_Showing the progress of settlement and present populated area_
INTRODUCTORY
THE DISCOVERIES AND THE CONQUEST
INTRODUCTORY
THE DISCOVERIES AND THE CONQUEST
_Spain's Discovery of America._--Town or communal government has been
characteristic of Spain since before the Roman conquest. The Visigoths,
who destroyed the advanced civilisation they found in the Peninsula,
never really amalgamated with the subject population, and, happily, they
did not succeed in destroying the municipalities. The liberal,
civilised, and tolerant Saracens who drove out the Goths, left their
Christian subjects free to enjoy their own laws and customs. The
municipalities gave efficient local self-government while a system of
small proprietorships made the Peninsula prosper, as in the best days of
the Roman dominion. The population of Spain reached twenty millions
under the Moors, but finally dynastic civil wars enabled the remnant of
Visigoths who had taken refuge in the northern mountains to begin the
gradual expulsion of the Mahometans. In the midst of these currents of
war and conquest setting to and fro, the old municipalities survived
unchangeable, and always supplying local self-government.
A tendency toward decentralisation was ingrained in the Spanish people
from the earliest times. It was increased by the method in which the
Christian conquest of Mahometan Spain was achieved. The Visigothic
nobility, starting from separate points in Asturias and Navarre,
advanced into Saracen territory and established counties and earldoms
which were virtually independent of their mother-kingdoms. The Asturians
expanded into Leon and thence over Galicia, northern Portugal, Old and
New Castile. The power of the Leonese monarch over Galicia was nominal;
Castile and Portugal separated from Leon almost as soon as they were
wrested from the Mahometans. The Basques were always independent, and
Navarre, though it became the mother of Aragon, had little connection
with the latter region. On the Mediterranean shore Charlemagne drove the
Moors from Catalonia and made it a province of his empire, but no sooner
was he dead than it became independent. Toward the end of the thirteenth
century. The Christian conquest was virtually completed, and the
Peninsula had been divided into four kingdoms. Each of these was,
however, in reality only a federation of semi-independent feudal
divisions and municipalities united by personal | 278.054378 |
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LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROADSIDE SKETCHES
By William Makepeace Thackeray (AKA Titmarsh)
I. FROM RICH | 278.15456 |
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SIAM:
ITS
GOVERNMENT, MANNERS, CUSTOMS, &c.
BY
Rev. N. A. McDONALD,
For ten years a Missionary in that country.
PHILADELPHIA:
ALFRED MARTIEN,
1214 CHESTNUT STREET.
1871.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
ALFRED MARTIEN,
In the Office | 278.263157 |
2023-11-16 18:21:42.3748180 | 336 | 9 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
McCLURE'S LIBRARY OF CHILDREN'S CLASSICS
EDITED BY KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN AND NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
GOLDEN NUMBERS
A BOOK OF VERSE FOR YOUTH
THE POSY RING
A BOOK OF VERSE FOR CHILDREN
PINAFORE PALACE
A BOOK OF RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY
_Library of Fairy Literature_
THE FAIRY RING
MAGIC CASEMENTS A SECOND FAIRY BOOK
OTHER VOLUMES TO FOLLOW
_Send to the publishers for Complete Descriptive Catalogue_
GOLDEN NUMBERS
A BOOK OF VERSE FOR YOUTH
CHOSEN AND CLASSIFIED BY
_Kate Douglas Wiggin_
AND
_Nora Archibald Smith_
WITH INTRODUCTION AND INTERLEAVES BY
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
[Illustration]
"_To add to golden numbers, golden numbers._"
THOMAS DEKKER.
NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1909
_Copyright, 1902, by_
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
Published, October, 1902, N
GOLDEN NUMBERS
_Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice._
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
_Hark! the numbers soft and clear_
_Gently steal upon the ear;_
| 278.394858 |
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[Illustration: _Harl. MS., Brit. Mus., N^o. 5353, fo. 111_]
G. F. TUPPER, LITHOG: LONDON. 1868.
DIARY
OF
JOHN MANNINGHAM,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE,
AND OF BRADBOURNE, KENT, BARRISTER-AT-LAW,
1602-1603.
EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT BY
JOHN BRUCE, ESQ.,
AND PRESENTED TO THE CAMDEN SOCIETY BY
WILLIAM TITE, ESQ., M.P., F.R.S., F.S.A.,
PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY.
WESTMINSTER:
PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS.
M.DCCC.LX.VIII
WESTMINSTER:
J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS, PRINTERS,
25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
TO
THE COUNCIL AND MEMBERS
OF
THE CAMDEN SOCIETY.
GENTLEMEN,
When you did me the honour to appoint me President of your most useful
Society as the successor of the Marquess Camden, I felt anxious to
express my sense of that honour by some appropriate acknowledgment.
I at first thought of printing a MS. from my own library, but, not
finding one that seemed exactly suitable, in my difficulty I applied to
my old and valued friend Mr. Bruce, and he pointed out to me
Manningham's Diary in the British Museum as possessing a varied interest
in the literary world which was likely to commend it to your notice. I
willingly adopted his suggestion; and I owe to him my sincere
acknowledgments for the pains he has bestowed in seeing the work through
the press, and in prefacing it with an interesting essay.
I have now to offer you this copy of Manningham's little book, and to
assure you how sincerely I am
Your obedient and obliged servant,
WILLIAM TITE.
42, Lowndes Square,
3rd October, 1868.
PREFACE.
The original of MANNINGHAM'S DIARY, which is here printed, is No. 5353
in the Harleian collection of MSS. in the British Museum. It is a
diminutive 12mo. volume, measuring not quite six inches by four, and
containing 133 leaves. The handwriting, of which an admirable
representation is given in the fac-simile prefixed, is small, and in the
main extremely legible; yet in some few places, from haste in the
writer, from corrections, from blotting, from the effects of time, and
from other obvious causes, difficulties have occurred in a word or two,
which, even with the assistance of gentlemen most skilful in reading the
old hands, have not been entirely overcome. The few instances in which
the collater has been baffled are indicated by marks of doubt.
The first historical writer who noticed this little volume for a
literary purpose was Mr. John Payne Collier. In his Annals of the Stage,
published in 1831 (i. 320), Mr. Collier quoted from this Diary various
passages connected with his special subject, and drew attention to the
principal personal facts disclosed by the writer respecting himself,
namely, that he had many relations in Kent, and had probably been a
member of the Middle Temple.
The late Mr. Joseph Hunter was the next writer who used the work for an
historical purpose.[1] With his well-known fondness for genealogical
inquiries he applied himself to determine who the writer was whom Mr.
Collier had designated merely as a barrister. In this inquiry Mr. Hunter
was completely successful. Pursuing the clue given by the mention of
relationships in Kent in the various ways which would occur to a person
skilled in such investigations, Mr. Hunter fell upon a track in which
coincidences between the facts stated in the MS. and those elicited by
his own researches followed one another so rapidly as in the end to
leave not even the shadow of a doubt that the desired result had been
obtained.
[Footnote 1: See his Illustrations of Shakespeare, i. 365.]
We shall briefly indicate the course by which Mr. Hunter arrived at his
conclusions. It looks easy enough after the end has been attained, but
it will be borne in mind that inquiries of this kind are extremely
discursive. The statement of a few leading facts upon the establishment
of which the final conclusion is arrived at, gives no idea of the time
lost in investigations which are merely tentative. In all such inquiries
we are soon reminded of the pretty passages which, after turnings and
windings almost _ad libitum_, are ultimately found to lead to nothing.
Besides cousins of at least seven different names who are alluded to by
the Diarist, several of them in connection with Canterbury, Sandwich,
and Godmersham, there is one whom he specially commemorates as "my
cousin in Kent" (p. 19), and whom he frequently vouches by that
designation, or merely as his cousin, as his authority for information
which he chronicles. This cousin was evidently the writer's most
important connection--the great man of the family. To visit him and his
somewhat wayward second wife was the principal object of the Diarist's
journeys into Kent. It also appears that this cousin was a man advanced
in life,--roughly stated to be 62 years of age in March 1602-3, and that
he resided at a place called Bradbourne, in the neighbourhood of
Maidstone. This last fact led directly to the identification desired.
Bradbourne was easily found. It has been for centuries a family seat in
the parish of East Malling. Hasted has represented the house in one of
his pictorial illustrations pretty much as it yet exists. It has been
shorn indeed of many of the noble trees, of the deer, and of some of the
other aristocratic adornments with which the county historian surrounded
it, but it still stands a stately old-fashioned red-brick mansion,
probably of the date of the reign of Queen Anne. Long before that period
the same spot was occupied by a previous residence of a county family.
From the time of the Protectorate it has belonged to a branch of the old
Kentish stock, the Twysdens; and before they purchased it--"in the reign
of Queen Elizabeth," as Hasted remarks[2]--"it was in the possession of
a family named Manningham."--Manningham! Our diarist slightly alludes to
a cousin of that name, "G. Manningham, deceased."[3] The clue was vague,
but at that little chink there entered light sufficient to guide the
researches of an antiquary.
[Footnote 2: Vol. ii. p. 215, ed. 1782.]
[Footnote 3: P. 108.]
The inscriptions on the older monuments in East Malling church are
printed in Thorpe's _Registrum Roffense_.[4] To them Mr. Hunter had
recourse, and with good success. Amongst them he found one upon a
monument[5] still standing on the north side of the chancel of the
church to a Richard Manningham, evidently a person of importance in that
neighbourhood. It is not stated in the inscription that he was the
owner of Bradbourne, but he lived at the time when our author paid his
visits thither, and his age, as given on the monument, although not
coincident with that stated by the Diarist,--for the monument declares
that Richard Manningham died on the 25th April, 1611, in his 72nd
year,--was sufficiently near to stimulate to further inquiries. But
without following Mr. Hunter step by step it will be enough to state
that from the inscription he went to Doctors' Commons, where, under the
vicious system of mismanagement which then prevailed, he was one of the
favoured two or three who were permitted to use the testamentary
records, whilst all other inquirers were excluded with a most offensive
disregard of courtesy. The will of Richard Manningham helped on the
inquiry very considerably. It was further advanced by an heraldic
Visitation of Kent, and was finally and triumphantly concluded by an
inspection of the register-books of the Middle Temple.
[Footnote 4: Lond. 1769, fol. p. 793.]
[Footnote 5: The inscription is surmounted by a bust of singular
coarseness, evidently the work of some country sculptor, and
executed in the worst taste and manner.]
Without derogating in the slightest degree from the merit of Mr.
Hunter's investigations, or desiring to deprive his memory of one atom
of the credit which attaches to it on that account, we prefer to state
the facts respecting the Manninghams in words of our own, which will
enable us to weave into the narrative some additions to the results of
Mr. Hunter's inquiries.
About the middle of the sixteenth century the Manninghams were a
numerous family of the middle class,[6] branches of which were scattered
about in various parts of England. The Richard Manningham of the
monument at East Malling was born at St. Alban's; Robert Manningham,
descended from a stock which removed out of Bedfordshire into
Cambridgeshire, lived and died at Fen Drayton in that county; George
Manningham dwelt in Kent, and from the marriages of his female
descendants in that county there probably sprang the numerous cousinred
of the family to which we have already alluded. Their _status_ in Kent
before Richard Manningham settled at Bradbourne may be inferred from one
fact which appears in the Diary, namely, that George Manningham was
bound as surety with William Somner, father of the well known antiquary
of Canterbury, for the father's performance of the duties of the
registrarship of the Ecclesiastical Court, in which office he preceded
his son.
[Footnote 6: "_Honesta natus familia_" are the words of the
inscription to Richard Manningham, the very words used also as
descriptive of the descent of Sir Thomas More on his monument in
Chelsea church; _familia non celebri sed honesta natus_. (Faulkner's
Chelsea, i. 207.)]
Richard, Robert, and George Manningham are all stated to have been
relations, and probably they all stood about upon a par in worldly
circumstances, but Richard pursued a way of life which enabled him to
shoot ahead of all the members of his family. Of his youth we have no
particulars, but he was well educated even according to present notions.
He united an acquaintance with modern languages to the share of
classical knowledge taught in our old grammar-schools, and is
commemorated as having spoken and written Latin, French, and Dutch, with
freedom and elegance, and as having been able at the age of sixty-two to
repeat _memoriter_ almost the whole of the first and second books of the
AEneid.
Brought up to some branch of commerce, he was a member of the Mercers'
Company of London, and in his business days resided in the metropolis,
but age found him with a competency, and brought with it some customary
infirmities. He retired from London, purchased the quiet sheltered
Bradbourne, and passed the evening of his days in occupations in which
literature bore a considerable share.
He was twice married; the first time to a native of Holland, a family
connection of the Lady Palavicini, afterwards wife of Sir Oliver
Cromwell, the uncle of the future Protector.[7] This marriage was a
happy one. The lady survived the purchase of Bradbourne,[8] and was
buried in the church of East Malling. Richard Manningham's second match
was with a Kentish widow. The traces we find of her in the Diary do not
leave an impression that she added much to her husband's happiness. She
is not alluded to in his will. We may therefore conclude that she died
between 1602 and 1611.[9] There is no mention of issue by either
marriage.
[Footnote 7: Diary, pp. 49, 51.]
[Footnote 8: The last notice we have of her is under the date of
1595, when her husband, "at her request and for her sake," lent her
kinsmen, Arnold Verbeck, Abraham Verbeck, and Goris Besselles,
merchant-strangers, 400_l._ which remained due with all interest
upon it up to the 21st January 1611-12, the date of his will. He
forgave his debtors the amount, provided they paid 40_l._ a piece to
Margarita and Susanna Verbeck, daughters of Arnold, and to the
testator's niece Janeken Vermeren, daughter of his first wife's
sister, within twelve months after his decease.]
[Footnote 9: The registers of East Malling do not begin until 1640.
We beg warmly to acknowledge our obligations to the Rev. W. L.
Wigan, the rector, who in the kindest manner searched from 1640 to
1660 for entries relating to the Manninghams, but without finding
anything about them.]
Childless, solitary, and infirm, Richard Manningham was in no degree
misanthropic. Out of his abundance he applied considerable sums in
charity, and for the benefit of his kindred, and at an early period
looked around for a Manningham who might inherit the principal portion
of his property and carry on his name. His choice fell upon John
Manningham, a son of Robert of Fen Drayton, and his wife Joan, a
daughter of John Fisher of Bledlow in the county of Bedford. That person
is our Diarist.
Richard Manningham carried out the obligations of this adoption in the
most liberal way. It is obvious from the Diary that John Manningham,
whom Richard Manningham designated by the several titles of "cousin,"
"kinsman," and "son in love," received a generous education of the best
kind. He was intended for the practice of the law, and on the 16th
March, 1597-8, was entered of the Middle Temple, as the son and heir of
Robert Manningham of Fen Drayton, gentleman, deceased. John Chapman,
probably the same person who is mentioned in the Diary as one of the
cousins who lived at Godmersham,[10] and John Hoskyns, were the members
of the Inn who were his sureties upon his admission.
[Footnote 10: Diary, pp. 108, 111.]
On the 7th June 1605, having kept his exercises and been on the books
for the needful seven years, he was called to the degree of an utter
barrister; whether afterwards advanced to the dignity of being permitted
to plead in actual causes in court does not appear.
Whilst in the Temple he had for his chamber-fellow Edward Curle, son
of William Curle, a retainer of Sir Robert Cecil, who procured him to
be appointed one of the auditors of the Court of Wards. Several
persons of this family are quoted in the Diary, and the close
relationship of chamber-fellow ripened not merely into lasting
friendship with Edward Curle, and with his brother Walter, who
afterwards became Bishop of Winchester, but into affection towards
their sister Anne. John Manningham and Anne Curle were married
probably about 1607. A son was born to them in 1608, who was named
Richard after the _quasi_-grandfather at Bradbourne. Two other sons
were subsequently named John and Walter, and three daughters, Susanna,
Anne, and Elizabeth. Where John Manningham lived after he quitted the
Temple, whether in London with a view to practice at the Bar, at
Hatfield which was the place of residence of the Curles, or at
Bradbourne with his "father in love," then a second time a widower,
does not appear.
On the 3rd January 1609-10, the old merchant proved the reality of his
assumed fatherhood by executing a deed of gift to John Manningham of the
mansion-house of Bradbourne and the lands surrounding it in East
Malling, and two years afterwards, on the 21st January, being, as he
states, "in tolerable health of body in regard of mine age and
infirmities," he made his will. It confirmed, "if needful," the deed of
gift to John Manningham, appointed him sole executor, and with some
slight exceptions and the charge of a considerable number of legacies,
most of them tokens of remembrance, gave him all the residue of his
property. The multitude of the old man's legacies and not less so their
character tell of his continuing interest in the connections of his past
life. They read like the last utterances of a warm and affectionate
spirit casting back its glance upon those from whom it was about to
part; whilst his adjuration to his adopted son to discharge the amounts
with punctuality, although deformed by the verbiage of legal formality,
and smacking a little of the mercantile estimate of the indispensable
importance of payment on the very day, is not devoid of real solemnity.
Omitting some of the tautologous expressions it reads thus:--"I charge
John Manningham, by all the love and duty which he oweth me, for all my
love and liberality which I have always borne [to] him and his
heretofore, but chiefly in this my will, that he pay every legacy within
six months after my death, those excepted that are appointed to be paid
at certain days, and those to be duly paid at their days appointed, as
my trust is in him, and as he will answer afore God and me at the latter
day!" Nor is the pious close of the document without a share of true
impressiveness:--"Having thus, I thank God, finished my will, and set an
order in my worldly affairs, I will henceforward await God's will to
depart hence in | 278.604837 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE INSIDE OF THE CUP
By Winston Churchill
Volume 7.
XXIII. THE CHOICE
XXIV. THE VESTRY MEETS
XXV. "RISE, CROWNED WITH LIGHT!"
XXVI. THE CURRENT OF LIFE
CHAPTER XXIII
THE CHOICE
I
Pondering over Alison's note, he suddenly recalled and verified some
phrases which had struck him that summer on reading Harnack's celebrated
History of Dogma, and around these he framed his reply. "To act as if
faith in eternal life and in the living Christ was the simplest thing in
the world, or a dogma to which one has to submit, is irreligious...
It is Christian to pray that God would give the Spirit to make us strong
to | 278.656277 |
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[Illustration: MR. F. E. BENNETT, Expert Pistol and Revolver Shot.]
THE MODERN AMERICAN PISTOL AND REVOLVER
INCLUDING
A DESCRIPTION OF MODERN PISTOLS AND
REVOLVERS OF AMERICAN MAKE; AMMUNITION
USED IN THESE ARMS; RESULTS ACCOMPLISHED;
AND SHOOTING-RULES FOLLOWED BY AMERICAN
MARKSMEN
BY A. C. GOULD
_Editor of The Rifle_
BOSTON
A. C. GOULD & CO., PUBLISHERS
1888
Copyright, 1888
BY A. C. GOULD & CO.
PRESS OF
Rockwell & Churchill,
BOSTON.
PREFACE.
For many years the author was among the great number of persons who
believed it was impossible to do fine shooting with a pistol beyond a few
yards, and out of the question to secure much accuracy from a revolver.
With the object of learning the limit of accuracy these arms possessed, a
great many experiments were arranged and exhibitions given by the most
skilful marksmen to be found. The spirit of rivalry soon became apparent,
and, without doubt, has considerably aided in determining the
possibilities of the pistol and revolver.
The author feels that his labors have not been in vain, as he has the
testimony of manufacturers of these arms, as well as cartridge-makers,
that the results obtained within a period of three years are finer than it
was thought possible.
As we close this little volume it is apparent that revolver and pistol
shooting is about to become a very popular sport; the cavalry and
artillery of the National Guard in America are likely soon to be equipped
with and instructed in the use of the revolver. As pistol practice
increases in popularity, events herein recorded will, doubtless, be
equalled and excelled many times.
The author begs to acknowledge courtesies extended to him by Messrs. Smith
& Wesson; Colt's Patent Fire-Arms Co.; Merwin, Hulbert, & Co.; Union
Metallic Cartridge Co.; United States Cartridge Co.; Messrs. Wm. R.
Schaefer & Son; John P. Lovell Arms Co.; as well as the many professional
and amateur shots who have devoted time and money to aid in developing the
American pistol and revolver.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I
American Pistols and Revolvers 5
CHAPTER II.
Single-Shot Pistols--Description of Various American Patterns 9
CHAPTER III.
American Revolvers--Smith & Wesson's Productions 21
CHAPTER IV.
The Merwin, Hulbert, & Co.'s Revolvers 36
CHAPTER V.
The Colt's Revolver 46
CHAPTER VI.
Sights for Revolvers and Pistols 56
CHAPTER VII.
Ammunition for Pistols and Revolvers 64
CHAPTER VIII.
Reloading Ammunition for Pistols and Revolvers 75
CHAPTER IX.
The Possibilities of the Revolver--Results of Revolver-firing
up to Fifty Yards 90
CHAPTER X.
Pistol and Revolver Shooting at Long Range 116
CHAPTER XI.
Rules for Pistol and Revolver Shooting 126
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Portrait of Mr. F. E. Bennett _Frontispiece_
Stevens Target Pistol (Lord Model) 11
" " " (Conlin Model) 13
Remington Single-Shot Pistol 15
New 6-inch Barrel Stevens Pistol 16
Colt's National Deringer 17
Remington Vest-Pocket Pistol 19
Smith & Wesson.32-calibre Single-Action Revolver 23
Smith & Wesson Revolver (Russian Model) Single Action 25
Smith & Wesson Revolver (Russian Model) Double Action 27
Smith & Wesson Hammerless Safety Revolver 33
Opening the Merwin, Hulbert, & Co. Revolver 37
Merwin, Hulbert, & Co.'s Revolver--Manner of Ejecting Shells 39
Colt's Revolver,.38-calibre, Double Action 51
" " (Frontier Model) 53
" " (Army Model) 53
Sights for Revolvers and Pistols 58, 59, 61
Chevalier Ira A. Paine 60
Winchester Reloading Tool 76
Ideal Reloading Tool 79
Target made by Mr. F. E. Bennett 84, 100, 114
Target made by Mr. George Bird 92, 96
" " " Mr. Pierre Lorillard, Jr. 94
" " " Mr. J. T. B. Collins 99
" " " Mr. Allen P. Kelly 103
" " " Chevalier Ira A. Paine 105
" " " Mr. W. W. Bennett 108
" " " Mr. D. D. Davis 109
" " " Mr. George Bird 110
Position, Mr. F. E. Bennett 112
" Chevalier Ira A. Paine 115
" Mr. W. W. Bennett 117
" Mr. B. J. Robertson 119
" Mr. Walter Winans 121
" Miss Annie Oakley 127
Standard American Target 125
Holsters 129, 131
Six shots with Colt's Frontier Model Revolver 135
THE MODERN AMERICAN PISTOL AND REVOLVER.
CHAPTER I.
During the years the author has been interested in studying fire-arms, and
endeavoring to learn the greatest amount of accuracy it was possible to
secure from them, his attention has frequently been attracted to the
statements of individuals in relation to pistols and revolvers, which were
mostly in the form | 278.754943 |
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MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
beginning in 1841 to the present day.
* * * * *
MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration: SHAKSPEARE ILLUSTRATED
"Tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man."
_King John._ Act III., Sc. 4 | 279.009831 |
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by The Internet Archive)
SMALL HORSES IN WARFARE
[Illustration: _Frederick Taylor, pinxt._ ON THE ALERT.]
SMALL HORSES IN WARFARE
BY
SIR WALTER GILBEY, BART.
ILLUSTRATED
VINTON & CO., LTD.
9, NEW BRIDGE STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1900
CONTENTS.
HORSES IN THE CRIMEAN WAR
CAPE HORSES
PONIES IN THE SOUDAN
BURNABY'S RIDE TO KHIVA
POST HORSES IN SIBERIA
PONIES IN INDIA
PONIES IN NORTHERN AFRICA
PONIES IN MOROCCO
PONIES IN EASTERN ASIA
PONIES IN AUSTRALIA
PONIES IN AMERICA AND TEXAS
ARMY HORSES OF THE FUTURE
BREEDING SMALL HORSES
APPENDIX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ON THE ALERT
BASHI BAZOUK
ONE OF REMINGTON'S HORSE
SIX ORIGINAL PENCIL SKETCHES BY HENRY ALKEN
GIMCRACK
_The present seems an appropriate time to put forward a few facts which
go to prove the peculiar suitability of small horses for certain
campaigning work which demands staying power, hardiness and independence
of high feeding. The circumstance that the military authorities have
been obliged to look to foreign countries for supplies of such horses
for the war in South Africa has suggested the propriety of pointing out
that we possess in England foundation stock from which we may be able to
raise a breed of small horses equal to, or better than, any we are now
obliged to procure abroad._
_Elsenham Hall, Essex, May, 1900._
SMALL HORSES IN WARFARE.
The campaign in South Africa has proved beyond doubt the necessity for a
strong force similar to that of the Boers. Their rapidity of movement
has given us an important lesson in the military value of horses of that
useful type which is suitable for light cavalry and mounted infantry.
Since the war broke out we have seen that we possess numbers of men able
to ride and shoot, who only need a little training to develop them into
valuable soldiers, but our difficulty throughout has been to provide
horses of the stamp required for the work they have to perform. The
experience we have gained in South Africa goes to confirm that acquired
in the Crimea, where it was found that the horses sent out from England
were unable to withstand the climate, poor food, and the hardships to
which they were subjected, while the small native horses and those bred
in countries further East suffered little from these causes. It was
then proved beyond dispute that these small horses are both hardy and
enduring, while, owing to their possession like our English
thoroughbreds of a strong strain of Arab blood, they were speedy enough
for light cavalry purposes.
Breeders of every class of horse, saving only those who breed the
Shetland pony and the few who aim at getting ponies for polo, have for
generations made it their object to obtain increased height. There is
nothing to be urged against this policy in so far as certain breeds are
concerned; the sixteen-hand thoroughbred with his greater stride is more
likely to win races than the horse of fifteen two; the sixteen-hand
carriage horse, other qualities being equal, brings a better price than
one of less stature; and the Shire horse of 16.2 or 17 hands has
commonly in proportion greater strength and weight, the qualities most
desirable in him, than a smaller horse. Thus we can show excellent
reason for our endeavours to increase the height of our most valuable
breeds; and the long period that has elapsed since we were last called
upon to put forward our military strength has allowed us to lose sight
of the great importance of other qualities.
Breeders and horsemen are well aware, though the general public may not
know or may not realise the fact, that increased height in the horse
does not necessarily involve increased strength in all directions, such
as greater weight-carrying power and more endurance. Granting that the
saying, "a good big horse is better than a good little one," is in the
main correct, we have to consider that the merits which go to make a
useful horse for campaigning are infinitely more common in small horses
than in big ones.
All the experience of campaigners, explorers and travellers goes to
prove that small compact animals between 13.2 and 14.2 hands high are
those on which reliance can be placed for hard and continuous work on
scanty and innutritious food.
HORSES IN THE CRIMEAN WAR.
During the Crimean War I was located for a short time at Abydos in Asia
Minor, on the shores of the Dardanelles, and had daily opportunities of
seeing the horses and studying the manoeuvres of some 3,000 mounted
Bashi Bazouks and Armenian troops who were encamped there under General
Beatson in readiness for summons to the Crimea, whither they were
eventually dispatched.
The horses on which these troops were mounted ranged from 14 hands to
14.3; all had a strong strain of Arab blood, and had come with the
troops from the Islands of the Archipelago. They were perfect horses for
light cavalry work. The economy with which they were fed was surprising:
their feed consisted principally of chopped straw with a small daily
ration of barley when the grain was procurable, which was not always the
case; and on this diet they continued in condition to endure long
journeys which would have speedily broken down the best English charger
in the British army.
CAPE HORSES.
The universal opinion of residents in South Africa is against the
introduction of imported horses for general work, inasmuch as they
cannot withstand the climate, hard living, bad roads and rough usage
which make up the conditions of a horse's life in the Colony.
In past years, before the present war, large numbers of English
horses have been sent to Natal for military service, but the results
were not satisfactory; all became useless, and the large majority died;
the change from English stables and English methods of management to
those in vogue in the Colony almost invariably proved fatal.
[Illustration: BASHI BAZOUK]
Some five years ago, when discussing with Mr. Cecil Rhodes the
advisability of introducing into Cape Colony English sires to improve
the stamp of horse bred in South Africa, he gave his opinion against
such measures. He pointed out that highly bred and large horses were
unsuitable for the work required in the Colony; they needed greater care
in housing, feeding, and grooming than the conditions of life in South
Africa would allow owners to bestow upon them. The hardships attendant
upon long journeys over rough country, the extremes of heat and cold
which horses must endure with insufficient shelter or none at all, must
inevitably overtax the stamina which has been weakened by generations of
luxurious existence in England.
Mr. Rhodes considered that no infusion of English blood would enhance
the powers of the small colonial bred horse to perform the work required
of him under local conditions; that though thoroughbred blood would
improve him in height and speed, these advantages would be obtained at
the cost of such indispensable qualities as endurance and ability to
thrive on poor and scanty fare.
It is however permissible to suppose that a gradual infusion of good
blood carefully chosen might in course of time benefit the Cape breed.
The use only of horses which have become acclimatised would perhaps
produce better results than have hitherto been obtained. The progeny
reared under the ordinary conditions prevailing in the Colony would
perpetuate good qualities, retaining the hardiness of the native breed.
PONIES IN THE SOUDAN.
The late Colonel P. H. S. Barrow furnished a most interesting and
suggestive Report to the War Office on the Arabs which were used by his
regiment, the 19th Hussars, during the Nile campaign of 1885. This
report is published among the Appendices to Colonel John Biddulph's
work, _The XIXth and their Times_ (1899).
Experience, in the words of Colonel Biddulph, had shown that English
horses could not stand hard work under a tropical sun with scarcity of
water and desert fare. It was therefore decided before leaving Cairo to
mount the regiment entirely on the small Syrian Arab horses used by the
Egyptian cavalry. Three hundred and fifty of these little horses had
been sent up in advance and were taken over by the regiment on arrival
at Wady Halfa. Colonel Barrow thus describes these horses:
"Arab stallion. Average height, 14 hands; average age, 8 years to 9
years; some 15 per cent. over 12 years; bought by Egyptian Government in
Syria and Lower Egypt; average price, L18."
About half of the ponies had been through the campaign in the Eastern
Soudan with the regiment in February and March, 1884, and had returned
in a very exhausted state. In September of that year they were marched
up from Assouan to Wady Halfa, 210 miles; and when handed over to the
19th again in November, all except some 10 per cent. of the number were
"in very fair marching condition." From Wady Halfa the regiment
proceeded to Korti, a distance of 360 miles, at a rate of about 16 miles
per day, halts, one of one day and one of two days not included; their
feed consisted of about 6 lbs. of barley or dhoora[1] and 10 lbs. of
dhoora stalk; and on this rather scanty ration the horses reached Korti
in very good condition. Here they remained for eighteen days, receiving
8 lbs. of green dhoora stalk daily instead of 8 lbs. dry; the rest and
change to green food produced improvement in their condition.
[1] Dhoora is a kind of millet cultivated throughout Asia and introduced
into the south of Europe; called also Indian millet and Guinea corn.
While the main body rested at Korti, a detachment of fifty went to
Gakdul, 100 miles distant, on reconnaissance; they performed the march
in sixty-three hours, had fifteen hours rest at Gakdul, and returned in
the same time. Six of the party returned more rapidly, covering the 100
miles in forty-six hours, the last 50 being covered in seven and a-half
hours. During these marches the horses were ridden for eighty-three
hours, the remaining fifty-eight hours of the time occupied being
absorbed by halts.
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[Illustration: "That gardening is best... which best ministers to man's
felicity with least disturbance of nature's freedom."
This is my study. The tree in the middle of the picture is Barrie's elm.
I once lifted it between my thumb and finger, but I was younger and the
tree was smaller. The dark tree in the foreground on the right is Felix
Adler's hemlock. [Page 82]] | 281.904945 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.1058540 | 3,265 | 7 | INFAMOUS HYPOCRITE JOHN CHURCH***
Transcribed from the [1817] John Fairburn edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: Public domain book cover]
FIFTH EDITION,
_Church burnt in Effigy_! _Rev. J. L. Garrett’s Vindi-_
_cation_, _the Whole of the Evidence_, _&c. &c._
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HAY & TURNER have had the affrontery to call their Scribble the only
Genuine
Edition! whereas, it is not so correct as FAIRBURN’S.—_John Church_.
* * * * *
THE
TRIAL
AND
CONVICTION
OF THAT
_INFAMOUS HYPOCRITE_
JOHN CHURCH,
The SURREY TABERNACLE PREACHER,
BOROUGH-ROAD, ST. GEORGE’S FIELDS,
FOR AN
Abominable Offence;
INCLUDING THE WHOLE OF
THE EVIDENCE;
Tried before LORD ELLENBOROUGH, at the Surrey Assizes, Croydon,
Saturday, August 16, 1817.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAKEN IN SHORT HAND.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
HIS LIFE,
CONFESSIONS, NOTES OF ONE OF HIS SERMONS,
THE WHOLE OF
THE LOVE-LETTERS, &c. &c.
* * * * *
“_Woe unto you_, Scribes and Pharisees, _Hypocrites_! for ye compass
sea and land to make _one Proselyte_; and, when he is made, ye make
him _two-fold more the child of Hell_ than yourselves.”
“Ye Serpents! ye generation of Vipers! _how can ye escape the
damnation of Hell_?”
ST. MATTHEW, CHAP. xxiii. v. 15 & 33.
* * * * *
LONDON:
Published by JOHN FAIRBURN, 2, Broadway, Ludgate-Hill.
(_Price Sixpence_.)
* * * * *
Marchant, Printer, Ingram-court, London.
* * * * *
SURREY ASSIZES, CROYDON,
_Saturday_, _August_ 16, 1817.
THE KING v. JOHN CHURCH.
THE Indictment charged, “That the Defendant, late of the parish of St.
Mary, Lambeth, in the county of Surrey, on the 26th day of September, in
the fifty-seventh year of the reign of George the Third, with force and
arms, at the parish aforesaid, in the county aforesaid, in and upon one
Adam Foreman, in the peace of God and our said Lord the King, then and
there being, did make an assault, and him, the said Adam Foreman, then
and there did beat, wound, and ill treat, so that his life was greatly
despaired of, with intent, that most horrid and detestable crime, (among
Christians not to be named,) with the said Adam Foreman, against the
order of nature, then and there feloniously, wickedly, and devilishly, to
commit and do, to the great displeasure of Almighty God, to the great
damage of the said Adam Foreman, and against the peace,” &c.
The second count charged a common assault.
The Defendant pleaded NOT GUILTY.
Counsel for the Prosecution—Mr. MARRYATT and Mr. BOLLAND; Solicitor, Mr.
HARMER.
Counsel for the Defendant—Mr. GURNEY and the COMMON SERJEANT.
The Jury being sworn:—Mr. BORLAND opened the indictment, as follows—
May it please your Lordship, Gentlemen of the Jury—The Defendant, John
Church, stands indicted for a misdemeanour. He has pleaded Not Guilty,
and your charge is to inquire whether he be Guilty or Not Guilty.
Hearken to the evidence.
_Mr. Marryatt_ then stated the case on the part of the Prosecution; after
which the court proceeded to call witnesses: the first witness called was
ADAM FOREMAN _sworn_.
_Examined by Mr. Bolland_.—Will be twenty the first day of December next.
Is an apprentice to Patrick, the potter, of Vauxhall. Has been with him
about five years. Knows the Defendant, John Church, by sight. Has known
him about two or three years. Church is a preacher. He, Witness,
attended the congregation in the Chapel where Church preaches and has
often seen him. Witness sleeps generally at his father’s. There are
occasions upon which witness sleeps at his master’s house when he goes
out of town. Church lived by his chapel, in St. George’s Fields, the
Borough-Road. Came to take up his abode at Mr. Patrick’s the 25th of
September, he came to sleep there that night. Witness slept there that
night. Does not know whether he (Church) had been there before. Cannot
say whether he had seen him there before. Knows that he slept there on
the 25th September, and that he, witness, was there. Witness’s master
that night was out of town; but where he cannot say. Mr. Church,
witness’s mistress, the children, and the two maid servants, slept in the
house that night. There was no other man in the house except himself and
Church. Witnesses bed-room was the front parlour on the first floor over
the kitchen. It is not a bed-room in common in the house. Witness slept
there, because there was no other bed-room that he could sleep in. There
was a temporary bed, therefore, put up for him there. Witness retired to
rest about one o’clock. The reason for his being up so late was because
there was a kiln burning, and he (witness) was obliged to sit up to let
the man into the kiln when he came. It was necessary for him to sit up
to attend that kiln, and to give the key to the man, Thomas West.
Witness went to bed about one o’clock,—went to sleep directly he went to
bed. Had not been asleep more than half an hour before he was awoke by
some one putting his hands under the bed clothes, and laying hold of his
private parts very tight. Witness put his hand out of the bed-clothes,
and caught hold of him and asked him who he was? and laid hold of him, as
near as he could guess, by the upper part of his arm; felt lower down,
and found by the sleeve that he had got a man’s shirt on; found the wrist
was buttoned; knows very well it was a man; could not tell that from the
feel of the flesh. Witness was here asked by _Lord Ellenborough_ by what
circumstance? and answered because he had got a man’s shirt on. The
person, in answer to what he said, answered—“Adam, don’t you know me? I
am your mistress,” in a faint voice, like a woman; it was not the voice
of his mistress, Mrs. Patrick; witness knew the voice directly he heard
it; it was Mr. Church’s voice; Church fled the room directly, that is he
went out in a hurried step. Witness then got out of bed, and put on his
small clothes and shoes, and went to the man up at the kiln. As he
opened the door witness saw by the lamp that it was Mr. Church, and he
had only his shirt on. The lamp that enabled witness to see the person
of Church is outside of the front street door, on the terrace. The lamp
throws a light through the fan-light of the hall door. Witness was here
asked by _Lord Ellenborough_ whether the lamp was at the street door? and
he answered, yes. It is a parish lamp; not one of the new lights; nor a
gas light. Question by _Lord Ellenborough_—Where were you standing at
the time?—I was getting up, my lord. Witness went out of his room. In
answer to a question by _Lord Ellenborough_, witness answered, he saw it
was Church by the lamp at the street door. Witness was then in bed,
sitting up; had not then left his bed; did not open the door; Church did
that. Witness saw him go out through that door; and then observed that
he had a shirt on. The shirt or dress of a man is much shorter than that
of a woman, and, therefore, he must have seen whether it was a shirt or a
shift. It was the shirt of a man witness is sure. Did not see his face
at all; his (Church’s) back was towards witness. When he was gone,
witness got up and put on his small clothes and shoes, and went into the
pottery to get the man to come up to the house; told Thomas West of it.
Witness was here asked by _Lord Ellenborough_ whether West was in the
pottery?—and answered, he was; it was the Thomas West that was in the
pottery before witness went to bed.
_Cross-examined by Mr. Gurney_.—The person, whoever it was, opened the
door and went out, afterwards shut the door after him. Saw him when he
opened the door. There was no light in the room. The light came from a
lamp on the Terrace. The lamp is between five and six yards from the
door on the Terrace. The Terrace on which witness’s master’s house is
situated, is a row of houses raised above the road. The lamp is upon the
Terrace opposite the door. About five or six yards from the door. The
light which it gives to the passage is through the fan-light over the
door. Did not see the face of the person. Saw that the person had a
shirt on. Was rather alarmed, waked out of his sleep in this way. It
was not long about. Witness don’t know how long he (Church) had been
there before witness awoke. Witness went directly to West, who directly
came with him and searched the house for thieves. Did not know whether
any body had got in or not. Looked at every chamber-door in the house
except Mr. Church’s and witness’s mistress’s. Looked at the door of Mr.
Church and that of his mistress, but did not open them. They were both
of them shut. Did not find any door open. Looked at all the doors in
the house, and found them all shut. The maid servant’s door was on the
jar. All the other doors were shut. After that witness and West
searched the house all over. West stopped while the witness put on the
remainder of his clothes, witness then went back with West to the
pottery, after having locked the door. Told West this story directly,
told him that Mr. Church came down into his (witness’s) room and behaved
in a very indecent manner, that he had laid hold of his private parts,
&c. Did not search the house for thieves in particular; but searched if
any body was in any of the rooms. _Mr. Bolland_ here said, I asked you
before whether you did not search the house for thieves; and you answered
“Yes,” are you right or wrong in that?—I asked you before whether you and
he did not search the house for thieves, and you told me that you
did?—Witness answered, we searched the house: we looked all over it, to
see if there was any body in any of the rooms, but not for thieves in
particular. Witness did not think of thieves, because he knew who it
was. Did not go into the maid servants’ room; only looked in; having
found the door open, looked in. The two maids slept in that room; one is
witness’s sister. The door being ajar, witness pushed it in a little,
and saw they were abed. Did not speak to them.
_Re-examined by Mr. Bolland_.—Witness did not search the house for
thieves because he knew who the persons was. The reason of his searching
the house was because he wished to be quite right before he made the
accusation against Mr. Church. Witness and West found there was no other
man in the house but Mr. Church. There was not any door or window open
at which any other man could have come in. The light from the Terrace
struck through the fan-light or window over the door. It gives a pretty
fair light to the hall, it shews a little light up the stairs. It was at
the time the person opened the door and went out that witness got this
view of his person.
_Examined by Lord Ellenborough_.—Did not hear Church when he first came
into the room. Was awakened by the application of his hand to witness’s
person. He was standing upon the floor. Witness has not any difficulty
in hearing. Witness did not call to him by name, or give him to
understand that he knew who he was. Witness saw his (Church’s) back as
he went out of the room. It appeared to be the height of Mr. Church.
Cannot say what height he is. He had a night-cap. Cannot exactly say
whether it was a man’s night-cap or no. Thinks it was a handkerchief
tied round his head. Cannot tell what sort of handkerchief it was. When
witness and West searched the house and examined the different doors they
went to Mr. Church’s door, but did not touch it, nor did they go in.
West wanted to go into the room and pull him out. When West wanted to
putt him out, witness did not call to him because he was afraid of
disturbing his mistress; she would have been very much alarmed. Church
never had any conversation with witness, nor did he ever make any
overture of this sort to him before this time. There was nothing
particular in his manner or conduct towards witness before this time.
Witness has not spoken to him at all since. Has attended before a
Magistrate with him; spoke in his presence there, but not to him; did not
hear him speak before the Magistrate. He did not speak at all before the
Magistrate. Witness gave the same | 282.125894 |
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Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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Internet Archive)
[Illustration]
THE ILLUSTRATIONS EN | 282.150012 |
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E-text prepared by Al Haines
HOW WOMEN LOVE
(Soul Analysis.)
Translated from the German of
MAX NORDAU,
Author of "Degeneration," "The Malady of the Century,"
"The Comedy of Sentiment," Etc., Etc
Copyright, 1898, by F. T. Neely.
Copyright, 1901, by Hurst & Co.
New York
Hurst & Company
Publishers
CONTENTS
Justice or Revenge
Prince and Peasant
The Art of Growing Old
How Women Love
A Midsummer Night's Dream
JUSTICE OR REVENGE.
CHAPTER I.
A more unequally matched couple than the | 282.199111 |
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Produced by David Newman, Chuck Greif, Janet Blenkinship
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
Among the Farmyard People
BY
Clara Dillingham Pierson
Author of "Among the Meadow People," and "Forest People".
Illustrated by F. C. GORDON
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
Copyright by
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
1899
TO THE CHILDREN
_Dear Little Friends:_
I want to introduce the farmyard people to you, and to have you call
upon them and become better acquainted as soon as you can. Some of them
are working for us, and we surely should know them. Perhaps, too, some
of us are working for them, since that is the way in this delightful
world of ours, and one of the happiest parts of life is helping and
being helped.
It is so in the farmyard, and although there is not much work that the
people there can do for each other, there are many kind things to be
said, and even the Lame Duckling found that he could make the Blind
Horse happy when he tried. It is there as it is everywhere else, and I
sometimes think that although the farmyard people do not look like us or
talk like us, they are not so very different after all. If you had seen
the little Chicken who wouldn't eat gravel when his mother was reproving
him, you could not have helped knowing his thoughts even if you did not
understand a word of the Chicken language. He was thinking, "I don't
care! I don't care a bit! So now!" That was long since, for he was a
Chicken when I was a little girl, and both of us grew up some time ago.
I think I have always been more sorry for him because when he was
learning to eat gravel I was learning to eat some things which I did not
like; and so, you see, I knew exactly how he felt. But it was not until
afterwards that I found out how his mother felt.
That is one of the stories which I have been keeping a long time for
you, and the Chicken was a particular friend of mine. I knew him better
than I did some of his neighbors; yet they were all pleasant
acquaintances, and if I did not see some of these things happen with my
own eyes, it is just because I was not in the farmyard at the right
time. There are many other tales I should like to tell you about them,
but one mustn't make the book too fat and heavy for your hands to hold,
so I will send you these and keep the rest.
Many stories might be told about our neighbors who live out-of-doors,
and they are stories that ought to be told, too, for there are still
boys and girls who do not know that animals think and talk and work, and
love their babies, and help each other when in trouble. I knew one boy
who really thought it was not wrong to steal newly built birds'-nests,
and I have seen girls--quite large ones, too--who were afraid of Mice!
It was only last winter that a Quail came to my front door, during the
very cold weather, and snuggled down into the warmest corner he could
find. I fed him, and he stayed there for several days, and I know, and
you know, perfectly well that although he did not say it in so many
words, he came to remind me that I had not yet told you a Quail story.
And two of my little neighbors brought ten Polliwogs to spend the day
with me, so I promised then and there that the next book should be about
pond people and have a Polliwog story in it.
And now, good-bye! Perhaps some of you will write me about your visits
to the farmyard. I hope you will enjoy them very much, but be sure you
don't wear red dresses or caps when you call on the Turkey Gobbler.
Your friend,
CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON.
Stanton, Michigan,
March 28, 1899.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE STORY THAT THE SWALLOW DIDN'T TELL 1
THE LAMB WITH THE LONGEST TAIL 12
THE WONDERFUL SHINY EGG 20
THE DUCKLING WHO DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO 33
THE FUSSY QUEEN BEE 47
THE BAY COLT LEARNS TO MIND 64
THE TWIN LAMBS 82
THE VERY SHORT STORY OF THE FOOLISH LITTLE MOUSE 96
THE LONELY LITTLE PIG 106
THE KITTEN WHO LOST HERSELF 116
THE CHICKEN WHO WOULDN'T EAT GRAVEL 136
THE GOOSE WHO WANTED HER OWN WAY 149
WHY THE SHEEP RAN AWAY 160
THE FINE YOUNG RAT AND THE TRAP 172
THE QUICK-TEMPERED TURKEY GOBBLER 186
THE BRAGGING PEACOCK 199
THE DISCONTENTED GUINEA HEN 213
THE OXEN TALK WITH THE CALVES 232
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE SWALLOWS ARE COMING 2
THE LAMB WITH THE LONGEST TAIL 16
THEY HAD A GOOD SWIM 40
HAD A SORE MOUTH FROM JERKING ON THE LINES 77
FEEDING THE LAMBS 84
EVERY BROWN PIG RAN OFF 110
"I AM THE WHITE KITTEN" 130
THE GRAY GOOSE TRIED TO GO THROUGH 156
COLLIE AND THE BELL-WETHER 170
THE BIG GOBBLER CAME PUFFING TOWARD
HER. _Frontispiece_ 194
THE PEACOCK WAS STANDING ON THE FENCE, 208
THE RED CALF AND THE WHITE CALF 243
THE STORY THAT THE SWALLOW DIDN'T TELL
"Listen!" said the Nigh Ox, "don't you hear some friends coming?"
The Off Ox raised his head from the grass and stopped to brush away a
Fly, for you never could hurry either of the brothers. "I don't hear any
footfalls," said he.
"You should listen for wings, not feet," said the Nigh Ox, "and for
voices, too."
Even as he spoke there floated down from the clear air overhead a soft
"tittle-ittle-ittle-ee," as though some bird were laughing for
happiness. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the meadow was covered
with thousands and thousands of green grass blades, each so small and
tender, and yet together making a most beautiful carpet for the feet of
the farmyard people, and offering them sweet and juicy food after their
winter fare of hay and grain. Truly it was a day to make one laugh aloud
for joy. The alder tassels fluttered and danced in the spring breeze,
while the smallest and shyest of the willow pussies crept from their
little brown houses on the branches to grow in the sunshine.
[Illustration: THE SWALLOWS ARE COMING.]
"Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee! Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee!" And this time it was
louder and clearer than before.
"The Swallows!" cried the Oxen to each other. Then they straightened
their strong necks and bellowed to the Horses, who were drawing the plow
in the field beyond, "The Swallows are coming!"
As soon as the Horses reached the end of the furrow and could rest a
minute, they tossed their heads and whinnied with delight. Then they
looked around at the farmer, and wished that he knew enough of the
farmyard language to understand what they wanted to tell him. They knew
he would be glad to hear of their friends' return, for had they not seen
him pick up a young Swallow one day and put him in a safer place?
"Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee!" and there was a sudden darkening of the sky
above their heads, a whirr of many wings, a chattering and laughing of
soft voices, and the Swallows had come. Perched on the ridge-pole of the
big barn, they rested and visited and heard all the news.
The Doves were there, walking up and down the sloping sides of the roof
and cooing to each other about the simple things of every-day life. You
know the Doves stay at home all winter, and so it makes a great change
when their neighbors, the Swallows, return. They are firm friends in
spite of their very different ways of living. There was never a Dove
who would be a Swallow if he could, yet the plump, quiet, gray and white
Doves dearly love the dashing Swallows, and happy is the Squab who can
get a Swallow to tell him stories of the great world.
"Isn't it good to be home, home, home!" sang one Swallow. "I never set
my claws on another ridge-pole as comfortable as this."
"I'm going to look at my old nest," said a young Swallow, as she
suddenly flew down to the eaves.
"I think I'll go, too," said another young Swallow, springing away from
his perch. He was a handsome fellow, with a glistening dark blue head
and back, a long forked tail which showed a white stripe on the under
side, a rich buff vest, and a deep blue collar, all of the finest
feathers. He loved the young Swallow whom he was following, and he
wanted to tell her so.
"There is the nest where I was hatched," she said. "Would you think I
was ever crowded in there with five brothers and sisters? It was a
comfortable nest, too, before the winter winds and snow wore it away. I
wonder how it would seem to be a fledgling again?" She snuggled down in
the old nest until he could see only her forked tail and her dainty head
over the edge. Her vest was quite hidden, and the only light feathers
that showed were the reddish-buff ones on throat and face; these were
not so bright as his, but still she was beautiful to him. He loved every
feather on her body.
"I don't want you to be a fledgling again," he cried. "I want you to
help me make a home under the eaves, a lovely little nest of mud and
straw, where you can rest as you are now doing, while I bring food to
you. Will you?"
"Yes," she cried. "Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee! Oh, tittle-ittle-ittle-ee!"
And she flew far up into the blue sky, while he followed her,
twittering and singing.
"Where are those young people going?" said an older Swallow. "I should
think they had flown far enough for to-day without circling around for
the fun of it."
"Don't you remember the days when you were young?" said the Swallow next
to him.
"When I was young?" he answered. "My dear, I am young now. I shall
always be young in the springtime. I shall never be old except when I am
moulting."
Just then a family of Doves came pattering over the roof, swaying their
heads at every step. "We are so glad to see you back," said the father.
"We had a long, cold winter, and we thought often of you."
"A very cold winter," cooed his plump little wife.
"Tell me a story," said a young Dove, their son.
"Hush, hush," said the Father Dove. "This is our son," he added, "and
this is his sister. We think them quite a pair. Our last brood, you
know."
"Tell us a story," said the young Dove again.
"Hush, dear. You mustn't tease the Swallow," said his mother. "They are
so fond of stories," she cooed, "and they have heard that your family
are great travellers."
"But I want him to tell us a story," said the young Dove. "I think he
might."
This made the Swallow feel very uncomfortable, for he could see that the
children had been badly brought up, and he did not want to tell a story
just then.
"Perhaps you would like to hear about our journey south," said he. "Last
fall, when the maples began to show red and yellow leaves among the
green, we felt like flying away. It was quite warm weather, and the
forest birds were still here, but when we feel like flying south we
always begin to get ready."
"I never feel like flying south," said the young Dove. "I don't see why
you should."
"That is because I am a Swallow and you are a farmyard Dove. We talked
about it to each other, and one day we were ready to start. We all had
on our new feathers and felt strong and well. We started out together,
but the young birds and their mothers could not keep up with the rest,
so we went on ahead."
"Ahead of whom?" said the young Dove, who had been preening his feathers
when he should have been listening.
"Ahead of the mothers and their fledglings. We flew over farms where
there were Doves like you; over rivers where the Wild Ducks were feeding
by the shore; and over towns where crowds of boys and girls were going
into large buildings, while on top of these buildings were large bells
singing, 'Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.'"
"I don't think that was a very pretty song," said the young Dove.
"Hush," said his mother, "you mustn't interrupt the Swallow."
"And at last we came to a great lake," said the Swallow. "It was so
great that when we had flown over it for a little while we could not see
land at all, and our eyes would not tell us which way to go. We just
went on as birds must in such places, flying as we felt we ought, and
not stopping to ask why or to wonder if we were right. Of course we
Swallows never stop to eat, for we catch our food as we fly, but we did
sometimes stop to rest. Just after we had crossed this great lake we
alighted. It was then that a very queer thing happened, and this is
really the story that I started to tell."
"Oh!" said the young Dove and his sister. "How very exciting. But wait
just a minute while we peep over the edge of the roof and see what the
farmer is doing." And before anybody could say a word they had pattered
away to look.
The birds who were there say that the Swallow seemed quite disgusted,
and surely nobody could blame him if he did.
"You must excuse them," cooed their mother. "They are really hardly more
than Squabs yet, and I can't bear to speak severely to them. I'm sure
they didn't mean to be rude."
"Certainly, certainly," said the Swallow. "I will excuse them and you
must excuse me. I wish to see a few of my old friends before the sun
goes down. Good afternoon!" And he darted away.
The young Doves came pattering back, swaying their heads as they walked.
"Why, where is the Swallow?" they cried. "What made him go away? Right
at the best part of the story, too | 282.231318 |
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Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. Hyphenation
and accentuation have been made consistent. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been retained.
THE STORY OF THE GREAT WAR
History of the European War from Official Sources
Complete Historical Records of Events to Date,
Illustrated with Drawings, Maps, and Photographs
Prefaced by
What the War Means to America
Major General Leonard Wood, U.S.A.
Naval Lessons of the War
Rear Admiral Austin M. Knight, U.S.N.
The World's War
Frederick Palmer
Theatres of the War's Campaigns
Frank H. Simonds
The War Correspondent
Arthur Ruhl
Edited by
Francis J. Reynolds
Former Reference Librarian of Congress
Allen L. Churchill
Associate Editor, The New International Encyclopedia
Francis Trevelyan Miller
Editor in Chieft, Photographic History of the Civil War
P. F. Collier & Son Company
New York
[Illustration: _Kaiser Wilhelm II, German Emperor, inspecting
Austro-Hungarian troops on the East Galician front, New Year's Day,
1916. At the Kaiser's left is General Count von Bothmer_]
THE STORY OF THE GREAT WAR
Champagne. Artois. Grodno
Fall of Nish. Caucasus
Mesopotamia. Development
of Air Strategy. United
States and the War
VOLUME IV
P. F. Collier & Son. New York
Copyright 1916
By P. F. Collier & Son
CONTENTS
PART I.--WAR IN SYRIA AND EGYPT
CHAPTER Page
I. Renewed Turkish Attempts 9
PART II.--WAR IN THE AIR
II. Raids of the Airmen 16
III. Zeppelins Attack London--Battles in the Air 29
IV. Venice Attacked--Other Raids 34
PART III.--THE WESTERN FRONT
V. Summary of First Year's Operations 39
VI. Fighting in Artois and the Vosges 46
VII. Political Crisis in France--Aeroplane Warfare--Fierce
Combats in the Vosges--Preparations for Allied
Offense 52
VIII. The Great Champagne Offensive 61
IX. The British Front in Artois 81
X. The Battle of Loos 90
XI. The Cavell Case--Accident to King George 98
XII. Operations in Champagne And Artois--Preparations for
Winter Campaign 104
XIII. Events in the Winter Campaign 117
XIV. The Battle of Verdun--The German Attack 131
PART IV.--THE WAR AT SEA
XV. Naval Situation at the Beginning of the Second
Year--Submarine Exploits 143
XVI. The Sinking of the Arabic--British Submarine Successes 150
XVII. Cruise of the Moewe--Loss of British Battleships 156
XVIII. Continuation of War on Merchant Shipping--Italian
and Russian Naval Movements--Sinking of La
Provence 165
PART V.--THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT
XIX. Summary of First Year's Operations 174
XX. The Fall of the Niemen and Nareff Fortresses 178
XXI. The Conquest of Grodno and Vilna 185
XXII. The Capture of Brest-Litovsk 193
XXIII. The Struggle in East Galicia and Volhynia and the
Capture of Pinsk 200
XXIV. In the Pripet Marshes 209
XXV. Fighting on the Dvina and in the Dvina-Vilna Sector 212
XXVI. Winter Battles on the Styr and Strypa Rivers 223
XXVII. On the Tracks of the Russian Retreat 229
XXVIII. Sidelights on the Russian Retreat and German
Advance 240
XXIX. Winter on the Eastern Front 250
PART VI.--THE BALKANS
XXX. Battle Clouds Gather Again 255
XXXI. The Invasion Begins 263
XXXII. Bulgaria Enters the War 269
XXXIII. The Teutonic Invasion Rolls on 273
XXXIV. The Fall of Nish--Defense of Babuna Pass 282
XXXV. Bulgarian Advance--Serbian Resistance 290
XXXVI. End of German Operations--Flight of Serb People--Greece 300
XXXVII. Allies Withdraw into Greece--Attitude of Greek
Government 308
XXXVIII. Bulgarian Attacks--Allies Concentrate at Saloniki 316
XXXIX. Italian Movements in Albania--Conquest of Montenegro 327
XL. Conditions in Serbia, Greece, and Rumania 339
PART VII.--THE DARDANELLES AND RUSSO-TURKISH CAMPAIGN
XLI. Conditions in Gallipoli--Attack at Suvla Bay 344
PART VIII.--AGGRESSIVE TURKISH CAMPAIGN AT DARDANELLES
XLII. Sari Bair--Partial Withdrawal of Allies 353
XLIII. Aggressive Turkish Movements--Opinion in England--Change
in Command 357
XLIV. Abandonment of Dardanelles--Armenian Atrocities 369
XLV. Campaign in Caucasus--Fall of Erzerum 380
PART IX.--ITALY IN THE WAR
XLVI. Review OF Preceding Operations--Italian Movements 393
XLVII. Italy's Relations to the Other Warring Nations 399
XLVIII. Problems of Strategy 404
XLIX. Move Against Germany 410
L. Renewed Attacks--Italy's Situation At the Beginning
of March, 1916 413
PART X.--CAMPAIGN IN MESOPOTAMIA
LI. Operations Against Bagdad and Around the Tigris 419
LII. Advance Toward Bagdad--Battle of Kut-el-Amara 426
LIII. Battle of Ctesiphon 437
LIV. Stand at Kut-el-Amara--Attempts at Relief 444
PART XI.--THE WAR IN THE AIR
LV. Development of the Strategy and Tactics of Air
Fighting 454
LVI. Zeppelin Raids--Attacks on German Arms Factories--German
Over-Sea Raids 459
LVII. Attacks on London--Bombardment of Italian Ports--Aeroplane
as Commerce Destroyer 466
LVIII. Air Fighting on all Fronts--Losses 473
PART XII.--THE UNITED STATES AND THE BELLIGERENTS
LIX. Sinking of the Arabic--Another Crisis--Germany's
Defense and Concessions 480
LX. Issue with Austria-Hungary Over the Ancona--Surrender
to American Demands 490
LXI. The Lusitania Deadlock--Agreement Blocked by Armed
Merchantmen Issue--Crisis in Congress 496
LXII. Developments of Pro-German Propaganda--Munitions
Crusade Defended--New Aspects of American Policy 505
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Kaiser Wilhelm Inspecting His Troops _Frontispiece_
Opposite Page
Zigzag Trenches in the Champagne 62
German Infantry Storming a Hill 94
General Joffre and General Petain 142
Austrian Infantry in Russia 238
Constructing a Bridge Over the Danube 270
British Hydroplane on Guard at Saloniki 318
Aeroplane Guns on Turntable 462
| 282.319198 |
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Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chris Curnow and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
SHAKSPEARE.
[Illustration: _Published by T. Tegg Cheapside, Sept.ʳ 1839._]
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
SHAKSPEARE,
AND OF
ANCIENT MANNERS:
WITH
DISSERTATIONS
ON THE CLOWNS AND FOOLS OF SHAKSPEARE;
ON THE COLLECTION OF POPULAR | 282.498095 |
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Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE FASCINATION OF LONDON
HAMPSTEAD AND MARYLEBONE
* * * * *
_IN THIS SERIES._
Cloth, price 1s. 6d. net; leather, price 2s. net, each.
THE STRAND DISTRICT.
By Sir WALTER BESANT and G. E. MITTON.
WESTMINSTER.
By Sir WALTER BESANT and G. E. MITTON.
HAMPSTEAD AND MARYLEBONE.
By G. E. MITTON. Edited by Sir WALTER BESANT.
CHELSEA.
By G. E. MITTON. Edited by Sir WALTER BESANT.
KENSINGTON.
By G. E. MITTON. Edited by Sir WALTER BESANT.
HOLBORN AND BLOOMSBURY.
By G. E. MITTON. Edited by Sir WALTER BESANT.
* * * * *
[Illustration: CHURCH ROW, HAMPSTEAD.]
The Fascination of London
HAMPSTEAD
AND
MARYLEBONE
BY
G. E. MITTON
EDITED BY
SIR WALTER BESANT
LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1902
_Published August, 1902_
_Reprinted February, 1903_
PREFATORY NOTE
A survey of London, a record of the greatest of all cities, that should
preserve her history, her historical and literary associations, her
mighty buildings, past and present, a book that should comprise all that
Londoners love, all that they ought to know of their heritage from the
past--this was the work on which Sir Walter Besant was engaged when he
died.
As he himself said of it: "This work fascinates me more than anything
else I've ever done. Nothing at all like it has ever been attempted
before. I've been walking about London for the last thirty years, and I
find something fresh in it every day."
He had seen one at least of his dreams realized in the People's Palace,
but he was not destined to see this mighty work on London take form. He
died when it was still incomplete. His scheme included several volumes
on the history of London as a whole. These he finished up to the end of
the eighteenth century, and they form a record of the great city
practically unique, and exceptionally interesting, compiled by one who
had the qualities both of novelist and historian, and who knew how to
make the dry bones live. The volume on the eighteenth century, which Sir
Walter called a "very big chapter indeed, and particularly interesting,"
will shortly be issued by Messrs. A. and C. Black, who had undertaken
the publication of the Survey.
Sir Walter's idea was that the next two volumes should be a regular and
systematic perambulation of London by different persons, so that the
history of each parish should be complete in itself. This was a very
original feature in the great scheme, and one in which he took the
keenest interest. Enough has been done of this section to warrant its
issue in the form originally intended, but in the meantime it is
proposed to select some of the most interesting of the districts and
publish them as a series of booklets, attractive alike to the local
inhabitant and the student of London, because much of the interest and
the history of London lie in these street associations. For this purpose
Chelsea, Westminster, the Strand, and Hampstead have been selected for
publication first, and have been revised and brought up to date.
The difficulty of finding a general title for the series was very great,
for the title desired was one that would express concisely the undying
charm of London--that is to say, the continuity of her past history
with the present times. In streets and stones, in names and palaces, her
history is written for those who can read it, and the object of the
series is to bring forward these associations, and to make them plain.
The solution of the difficulty was found in the words of the man who
loved London and planned the great scheme. The work "fascinated" him,
and it was because of these associations that it did so. These links
between past and present in themselves largely constitute The
Fascination of London.
G. E. M.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFATORY NOTE vii
HAMPSTEAD 1
MARYLEBONE 56
INDEX 106
_Map of Hampstead facing page 1._
_Map of Marylebone facing page 104._
[Illustration: HAMPSTEAD DISTRICT.
Published by A. & C. Black, London.
By permission of the Hampstead Corporation.]
HAMPSTEAD
The name of this borough is clearly derived from "ham," or "hame," a
home; and "steede," a place, and has consequently the same meaning as
homestead. Park, in a note in his book on Hampstead, says that the "p"
is a modern interpolation, scarcely found before the seventeenth
century, and not in general use until the eighteenth.
HISTORY
Lysons says that the Manor of Hampstead was given in 986 A.D. by King
Ethelred to the church at Westminster, and that this gift was confirmed
by Edward the Confessor; but there is an earlier charter of King Edgar
of uncertain date, probably between 963 and 978. It granted the land at
Hamstede to one Mangoda, and the limits of the grant are thus stated:
"From Sandgate along the road to Foxhanger; from the Hanger west to
Watling Street north along the street to the Cucking Pool; from the
Cucking Pool east to Sandgate."
Professor Hales, who thinks, whether genuine or not, this charter is
certainly of value, interprets Sandgate as North End, Foxhanger as
Haverstock Hill, Watling Street as Edgeware Road, and the Cucking Pool
he concludes was in the marshy ground at the north-west corner of the
parish.
This earlier charter is only interesting because it carries the history
one point further back; the gift to the monks by King Ethelred was in
its consequences far more important. The Bishop of Westminster, who held
the land after the dissolution of the monastery, surrendered it to the
King in 1550, by whom it was given to Sir Thomas Wroth. It remained in
the Wroth family until 1620, when it was acquired by Sir Baptist Hickes,
afterwards Viscount Campden. Hickes' daughter and coheir married Lord
Noel, ancestor of the Earls of Gainsborough, and it was held by the
Gainsboroughs until 1707. In that year it was bought by Sir William
Langhorne, who left it to his nephew. It then went to a Mrs. Margaret
Maryon, later to Mrs. Weller, and about 1780 to Sir Thomas Spencer
Wilson, in right of his wife. Her son, Sir Thomas Maryon Wilson,
succeeded her, and in this line it has remained since 1818.
Besides the Manor of Hampstead there is included in the borough the
ancient Manor of Belsize, or Belses. Sir Roger de Brabazon in 1317 gave
an estate to Westminster Abbey to found a chantry for himself, Edmund,
Earl of Lancaster, and Blanche his wife. After many changes it was
occupied by Lord Wotton, who had been created a Baron by Charles II. His
half-brother, Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, succeeded him, and the
family held the Belsize estate until 1807. The house was afterwards
turned into a popular place of amusement.
Hampstead as a whole has grown very rapidly. In a map of the beginning
of the nineteenth century there are comparatively few houses; these
nestle in the shape of a spear-head and haft about the High Street. At
West End and Fortune Green are a few more, a few straggle up the
southern end of the Kilburn Road, and Rosslyn House and Belsize House
are detached, out in the open country.
Seymour, writing in 1735, gives a quaint description of Hampstead as
follows: "This Village... is much more frequented by good company than
can well be expected considering its vicinity to London, but such care
has been taken to discourage the meaner sort from making it a place of
residence that it is now become, after Scarborough and Bath and
Tunbridge, one of the Politest Public Places in England, and to add to
the Entertainment of the Company there is, besides the long room in
which the Company meet publicly on a Monday evening to play at cards,
etc., a new Dancing Room built this year."
Hampstead itself, now a town of 80,000 people, is almost entirely
modern; the old village has been gradually destroyed until there is next
to nothing left. But the Heath remains, the only wild piece of ground
within easy reach of the Londoner. It remains to be seen whether the
authorities will continue to observe the difference between a park and a
heath.
No suburb of London can point to so many distinguished residents as
this, the most favoured and the most favourite. Among them may be
mentioned Sir Henry Vane, Dr. Butler (author of the "Analogy"), Lord
Alvanley, Lord Chatham, Lord Erskine, Crabbe, Dr. Johnson, Joanna
Baillie, Mrs. Barbauld, Constable, Romney, Sir James Mackintosh, Steele,
Gay, Arbuthnot, Akenside, Thomas Day, Leigh Hunt, Keats, William Blake,
John Linnell, Wilkie, Stanfield, Du Maurier, and many others.
Directly you get within the boundaries of Hampstead you are aware that
the borough has an atmosphere of its own--an atmosphere in two senses,
for the great height of part of the borough and its distance from London
combine to give it as wholesome and pure an air as may be found in any
place in England, and an atmosphere in the metaphorical sense--a
peculiar feeling of brightness and lightness which proclaims a favoured
suburb. Hampstead has always been celebrated for its trees, and in spite
of the great annual increase in the number of its houses these have not
been wiped out of existence. Nearly every house possesses one or more,
and some are very fine specimens. The long sinuous backbone of the
borough, beginning as Haverstock Hill, continuing as Rosslyn Hill, and
running through High Street and Heath Street to the Heath, is
tree-shaded almost all its length. The streets on either side show
vistas of irregular red brick, softened and toned down by the greenery
of trees; every road is an avenue. The main artery, indicated above, is
all uphill, not all equally steep, but collar-work throughout its
length; at the top it bifurcates, and the winding of Heath Street
reminds one of a Continental town. The steep little streets or alleys
running down into it are furnished with steps like the Edinburgh wynds.
The way is long, but the toil is forgotten at the summit in the splendid
view from the flagstaff. Here the rolling blue outlines of distant hills
are emphasized by the beautiful foreground of the West Heath. There is
none of what painters call the "middle distance"; everything is near or
far, and the near is extraordinarily beautiful, especially if it be seen
in springtime when the spray of blossom is like the spray of deep water
breaking upon rocks, and the gorse twinkles like the twinkling of
ripples in the golden sunlight. The immediate foreground is bare and
worn, but a little further away the miniature heights and hollows, the
scrubby bush and little winding paths, add that mystery which so greatly
increases delight. The pond by the Flagstaff is frequently very gay;
there are carriages and horses, children with flotillas of white-sailed
craft, and horses splashing knee-deep from end to end of the pond, an
advantage much appreciated in the hot and thirsty summer. Away to the
east stretches of rolling green form a joyous playground for all at
holiday times, but are bare and arid compared with the West Heath.
Below North End on West Heath this character is maintained, and there
are few sights in England more beautiful than the richly clothed broken
ground stretching away from the <DW72>s below Jack Straw's Castle when
the sunlight catches the leaves of the poplars and beeches, making them
shine with shimmery silver light. On all sides are magnificent views of
distant horizons.
The Heath forms one of the greatest attractions of Hampstead, and that
the inhabitants are fully alive to its beauty and importance is shown by
their gallant and successful efforts to preserve it intact, when, from
time to time, it has been threatened. Neither the proposed curtailments
by the Lord of the Manor nor the park-like "improvements" of the London
County Council have been permitted. It is still a wide space of
undulating ground, outlined by masses of foliage rising to the heights
of Highgate, and is an untold boon to the dwellers in the City, who
throng its <DW72>s on Bank Holidays. In 1866 a contest arose between the
Lord of the Manor, Sir Thomas Maryon Wilson, and the inhabitants of
Hampstead as to the preservation of the Heath. Up to that date for
twenty years a guerilla warfare had been going on in dispute of Sir
Maryon Wilson's right to build upon the Heath, and when he began to
build a house close to the Flagstaff pond the matter came to an issue. A
subscription list was opened called the Hampstead Heath Protection Fund,
and the matter was taken into court. Before the case was ended Sir
Thomas died, and was succeeded by his brother Sir John, who was open to
a compromise. Under an Act of Parliament the Metropolitan Board of Works
acquired the Heath for L55,045. The ground thus acquired comprised 220
acres. In 1889-90 Parliament Hill Fields and the Brickfields were
purchased for L302,000, with money partly raised by the local Vestries,
partly by public subscription, and partly by Metropolitan taxation. The
land thus bought from Lord Mansfield and Sir Spencer Wilson comprised
261 acres, and was dedicated to the public as an open space for ever.
The part of the Heath known as East Heath consists of rolling grassy
<DW72>s outlined with clumps of trees and intersected by roads and
footpaths. The great road known as Spaniards, which cuts across as
straight as an arrow, gives the impression of having been banked up and
levelled at some previous date, but this appearance is due to the
excavations for sand and gravel at its sides which took place while the
ground was still under the rule of the lord of the manor.
The Heath has suffered from highwaymen in common with most lonely spots
in the vicinity of the Metropolis. One, Jackson, in 1673, was hung
behind Jack Straw's Castle for highway murder, but no other very
notorious crimes are attached to this spot as there are to Hounslow or
Blackheath.
The Heath is not altogether destitute of houses; of those detached,
several have had the origin of what Baines terms "Squatters' right," and
have established their title by process of time. There are also several
hamlets: the Vale of Health, the houses about Jack Straw's Castle, North
End, and the group near the Spaniards.
The curious little cluster of buildings called the Vale of Health,
situated in a basin near to one of the Hampstead ponds, has always
attracted considerable attention. Here Leigh Hunt came to live in 1816;
his house was on the site of the Vale of | 282.967699 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.0081760 | 4,750 | 19 |
Produced by Julia Neufeld and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration]
The Copeland METHOD
[Illustration]
INDEX.
PAGE
Equipment 3
Tools Required and their Use 3
Formula for Cleaning Fluid 6
Formula, how to make 7
Formula for Moth Preventative 7
How to Use Cleaning Fluids 7
How to Prepare Garments to be Cleaned 7
How to Clean Garments 8
To Remove Stains, etc. 13
Repairing 14
Darning a Three-Cornered Tear 20
Alterations 21
Pressing 28
How to Clean Cutaway, Prince Albert, Military
and other Uniforms 33
How to Clean and Press Ladies' Jackets, etc. 33
Selection of Materials, etc. 37
Care of Clothes 38
Folding of Clothes 42
Testing Goods 43
Price List for Cleaning and Pressing 44
How to Dress and What to Wear 45
Business Etiquette 55
The
Copeland METHOD
A Complete Manual for
Cleaning, Repairing, Altering
and Pressing all kinds
of Garments for Men and
Women, at home or for
business.
Copyrighted 1908.
BY
VANNESS COPELAND,
BUFFALO, N. Y.
INTRODUCTORY.
High birth and good breeding are the privileges of the few; but the
habits of a gentleman may be acquired by any man. Neatness is not an art
requiring the study of a life time; on the contrary it's principles are
simple, and their practical application involves only ordinary care.
To gain the good opinion of those who surround us is the first interest
and the second duty of men in every profession of life. First
impressions are apt to be permanent; it is therefore of importance that
they should be favorable. Frequently the dress of an individual is that
circumstance from which you first form your opinion. It is even more
prominent than manner. It is indeed one of the first things noticed in a
casual encounter or during the first interview. Chesterfield has said
that "He could not help conceiving some idea of the people's sense and
character from the appearance of their dress which they appeared when
first introduced to him."
In the preparation of this book, it has been the aim of the maker to
give in a concise form, all that is properly embraced in a comprehensive
work on not only keeping our wardrobes in such a state as to cause us to
appear to the best advantage, but also to give a complete instruction in
the manipulation of garments and tools used in the process of properly
cleaning, pressing and repairing all kinds of garments for men and
women.
A few hints may be helpful to the beginner as well as to those in the
business.
Observe a well dressed man or woman on the street or elsewhere, note the
make up and fitting points of their garments, this will help the student
to know good work, and try to do as well when doing the work himself.
When learning the method of cleaning, repairing and pressing all kinds
of garments for men and women, it is a good idea, if possible, to have a
garment of the same sort as one is studying close at hand, following
closely the instructions over all parts of the garment; thereby
understanding the teachings better and become more familiar with the
work.
Should a garment need repairing of any kind or a button sewed on, do it
and charge accordingly.
Never give a customer clothes that are damp from pressing, allow them to
dry before wearing or delivering.
LESSON I.
EQUIPMENT.
Introduction: A few hints to the beginner as well as to those now in the
business. The tools required and the best method of using same, for work
at home or for business.
TOOLS REQUIRED AND THEIR USE:
The tools required for cleaning, repairing and pressing at home, or for
business are as follows:
For work at home, use an ordinary kitchen table with smooth top. For use
in business, a table eight feet long, three feet wide and thirty inches
high (or as high as is convenient for the presser, this may be easily
determined by using). This is called a tailor's bench. The balance of
the tools are the same for work at home or for business.
The kitchen table or tailor's bench may be used for several purposes;
the first of which is to place the iron, press-jack, sponge cloth, and
garment while cleaning and pressing. Also for men to sit on while
sewing.
THE IRON.
One may use an ordinary laundry iron (but would advise the purchase of a
solid iron or tailor's goose, weighing from fourteen to twenty-two
pounds, or according to one's strength), one may heat the iron on a coal
range, gas or oil stove; or one may use a gas or electric iron, which
are being used with great satisfaction, and are easily handled, being of
little trouble to operate, also doing the work well. However, it is best
to use whatever one considers most convenient, cheapest and best for the
locality in which one resides.
The iron is heated and placed on the iron rest, which has been placed on
the table for that purpose, to the right of the presser, and is applied
to the sponge cloth (that has been wrung out almost dry), causing steam
to penetrate that part of the garment being pressed, thereby refreshing
the cloth.
The presser should have control of the iron at all times, also see that
the iron is not too hot before using by testing it on a piece of light
colored woolen material. If it scorches it is too hot for use, wait for
a few minutes to cool.
When pressing move the iron from place to place, on the part to be
pressed, by lifting it clear each time, instead of shoving it along as
some do. (To shove the iron along on the work is apt to stretch garments
where not required, and also cause wrinkles). Keep the face of iron
smooth by rubbing wax over the surface frequently, thereby removing any
lint or dirt that may accumulate from time to time.
THE PRESS-JACK.
A press-jack such as the tailors use, is made of two hardwood boards,
thirty-five inches long, one inch thick, planed both sides and edges and
cut egg-shape; the wide end being eight inches in width, and the narrow
or small end, four inches wide, one forming the top and the other the
bottom.
Between the top and bottom are screwed two blocks of solid wood, four by
four inches, and six inches high. The first one is screwed to the top
and bottom, three inches from the large end, and the second block is
screwed to the top and bottom, seven inches from the large end, thereby
leaving a space to the small end, of twenty-eight inches, for
convenience in handling the garments while pressing.
The top of the press-jack is left perfectly plain and smooth; the
bottom, however, is padded for convenience for pressing with ten-ply of
wadding, cut the same shape of board or bottom of press-jack. Over this
place a piece of white heavy drilling, drawn tight over the wadding to
keep in place and tacked all around the edges with brass head tacks. Cut
cotton off evenly around the edges beyond the tacks. This completes the
press-jack and is ready for use.
The press-jack as tailors term it, is used for the pressing of clothes,
and is also useful to lay clothes on while cleaning.
THE BRUSH.
A brush with a plain back and handle. (Never use a whisk broom to brush
clothes as it injures the fibre of the cloth.)
The brush is used to brush garments thoroughly before cleaning and is
used in connection with the pressing of garments, to slap with the back
the part pressed, thereby keeping the steam in, and making the cloth
sweat. The face to brush the nap of cloth, thereby refreshing the
garment, making it look like new.
THE SPONGE CLOTH.
A sponge cloth is made of heavy unbleached cotton, one yard and a half
long, boiled in soap and water for one hour, then rinse in clean water,
thus removing the lint.
The sponge cloth should be dipped in warm water, and wrung out almost
dry by hand, (or one may use a clothes wringer if preferred) thereby
keeping it clean and free from grease and dirt that may stick to it from
time to time.
The sponge cloth is used to lay over the "woolen press cloth" that has
been placed over that part of the garment to be pressed, also it is the
cloth which is to be dampened and when iron is applied causes steam to
be forced into the garment thereby instilling new life into the cloth as
it were.
THE UNDER WOOLEN PRESS CLOTH.
Is made of a piece of plain light colored unfinished or finished worsted
one yard long and eighteen inches wide.
Place this under woolen press cloth over that part of garment to be
pressed, then lay the sponge cloth on top of this, and apply the iron.
By using these two press cloths together, prevents glossing the garment
to a great extent, and may be used when pressing all kinds of garments
for men and women.
COAT AND TROUSER HANGERS, ETC.
Coat and trouser hangers are used to place the several garments on to
retain their shape after cleaning and pressing. They are also very
essential in the home to place garments on that are not in use or being
worn, it is better to place garments on forms than to hang up by loops
that are placed on garments by tailors.
Other necessities used in the cleaning, repairing and pressing of
garments, are the sponge, tape measure, scissors, tailor's chalk,
needles, thimble, bodkin for pulling bastings, a sewing machine, a large
mirror, fashion plates, chairs, desk and safe, if one wishes.
Afterward one may add as many tools as necessity requires and their
business permits.
LESSON II.
CLEANING.
Consists of several formulas for making Standard cleaning fluids, and
the best method of using same, in the cleaning of all kinds of garments.
How to prepare garments to be cleaned. How to steam clean. How to dry
clean. The secret of success in cleaning. To clean velvet and velveteen.
To remove paint, tar, grease and ink from garments. How to wash woolens.
How to wash black woolen dresses. How to clean silk, satin and lace. To
remove grease from delicate fabrics. To remove stains from linen and
cotton goods. A formula for making moth preventative.
CLEANING FLUID.
(Formula.)
2 ounces Chloroform.
3 ounces Wood Alcohol.
2 ounces Sulphur Ether.
2 ounces Spirit of Wine.
10 ounces Ammonia.
3 ounces Oil of Turpentine.
2 ounces Glycerine.
Place all seven chemicals in one bottle.
3 ounces Borax.
3 ounces French Castile Soap.
DIRECTIONS TO MIX:
Cut the French Castile Soap in fine shavings, dissolve them together
with the Borax, in four quarts of boiling water, cool this solution,
being careful that all the soap is dissolved, then strain through muslin
or thin woolen cloth, to remove any sediment. Then add the other seven
chemicals, mix and shake well. This will make five quarts Cleaning
Fluid.
This cleaning fluid may be used on any garment with good results, as it
will not injure the fibre of the cloth. Always rinse spot good with
clean water and sponge, after using cleaning fluids.
HOW TO PREPARE A SIMPLE CLEANING FLUID.
(Formula.)
4 ounces Ammonia.
4 ounces Bay Rum.
1-6 ounce Salt Peter.
To this add one pint of clean water, pour in a small neck bottle, keep
well corked to avoid evaporating.
This preparation will remove fresh or hard paint, tar, grease, oil and
in fact any spots from clothing, dress goods, carpets, rugs, and all
woolen goods without injury to the fabric. The above may be obtained at
any drug store.
HOW TO PREPARE MOTH PREVENTATIVE.
(Formula.)
4 ounces Powder Borax.
4 ounces Powder Alum.
4 ounces Powder Camphor.
Mix all three chemicals together thoroughly. This will make a white
powder. Sprinkle freely around and under carpets before laying, also over
clothing not in use. This powder will not leave a stain, and is easily
brushed off. Use freely wherever moths appear.
HOW TO USE THE CLEANING FLUIDS.
Dampen a sponge or woolen cloth (white flannel is the best as there is
no color to come out) by dipping it in the cleaning fluid, which has
been poured into a basin for that purpose and convenience. Rub the spot
to be cleaned with the dampened sponge, woolen cloth (or flannel) with
the thread or nap of the cloth until the grease and dirt is loosened,
then rinse with clean water, (always rinse sponge, cloth or flannel in
clean water before cleaning the stain a second time with pure water)
until stain entirely disappears.
Always clean garments before repairing or relining.
HOW TO PREPARE GARMENTS TO BE CLEANED.
Turn all pockets inside out. Brush thoroughly and whip with cane if
necessary, being careful not to break the buttons on the garment.
See that the dust and dirt is thoroughly removed from the pockets, then
return pockets to their place. This is a very important part and one
which is very often neglected and overlooked. The garment is then ready
to be cleaned. Proceed as above explained. If one application is not
sufficient to remove the spots, repeat until spots are thoroughly
removed.
Coats are usually very dirty and greasy around the collar also down the
fronts, great care should be taken to clean thoroughly and rinse often,
thereby removing all stains.
All coats, vests, trousers, overcoats, ladies' jackets, coats, waists,
and all kinds of skirts should be cleaned by this same method.
HOW TO STEAM CLEAN.
To steam clean coats, vests, trousers, overcoats, ladies jackets and
skirts and all wool garments:
Place each garment in a basin of warm water first, and with soap and a
brush go over the entire garment thoroughly, including sleeve lining.
Second--pour water off and fill basin again with warmer water than at
first, and wash with stiff brush and soap as before, using three waters
or until garment is thoroughly cleaned.
Remove soap water (do not wring garments but allow to drip, or squeeze
water out) and rinse in hot water, then warm, then cooler, and so on
until cold, adding one tablespoonful of coarse salt. (Dissolve salt in
cold water before placing in basin). This will prevent garment from
shrinking. Place on hanger to retain their shape, allowing water to drip
out. Straighten out wrinkles as much as possible when drying, thus
making the pressing easier, and when thoroughly dry, proceed to press as
explained. If any spots remain after this process, remove with ammonia.
For those who perspire under the arms freely, dress shields placed in
the bottom of the arm holes of coats will be of great benefit.
HOW TO DRY CLEAN.
Use a basin large enough to hold one gallon of gasolene and the garment
to be cleaned. (Being careful to keep gasolene away from the stove or a
lighted candle, lamp, or gas.)
Place one gallon of gasolene in the basin with the coat, and swash up
and down until all grease and dirt has been loosened, then place on
hangers in the open air, allowing to dry and gasolene to evaporate.
Before dipping the coat in the basin, see that all dust and dirt is
removed from the pockets by turning them inside out and brushing, also
brush all seams.
Use half a gallon for the vest, and one gallon for the trousers. The
more gasolene used, the better will be the results.
Gasolene may be used a second time on black goods, after filtering or
settling, but never on light colored materials, ladies' jackets, coats,
wool waists, and skirts may be cleaned in the same way.
Gasolene, benzine, naptha, turpentine and ammonia should be of the best
and purest, when used for cleaning purposes.
The secret of success in cleaning, is by dipping the garment in a large
quantity of the liquid. Not less than a gallon of gasolene, benzine or
naptha should be used for a coat, jacket or skirt. Two gallons will do
the work better. One should remove all spots if possible before dipping
in the liquid. It is a good idea to surround each spot with a basting
thread as when wet, some spots do not show. Soak each garment in the
clear liquid, then soap all spots thoroughly, rub gently between the
hands until spots disappear. Then wash and rinse garment in clear
liquid. Place on hangers in the open air, or drying room, allowing odor
to pass away.
Soap may be used for cleaning in connection with gasolene with good
results. One may use a little ammonia with the gasolene and soap. The
goods should be well shaken, and pull all folds out straight with the
threads of the goods. Velveteen, velvet and corduroy may be cleaned with
gasolene, when pile or nap is not much worn.
When cleaning velvet, or any other fabric, the most important part is to
have all the dust and dirt removed, by brushing the garment or fabric
thoroughly.
To clean a velvet collar that is not too greasy, and the nap not worn
off: Wet a piece of woolen cloth or flannel in gasolene and rub lightly,
until the grease and dirt is loosened. Then apply more gasolene with a
clean woolen cloth, and remove all grease and dirt. Place on hanger in
the open air to dry and to evaporate before steaming. When much gasolene
is used hang coat so that the collar hangs down, to allow the gasolene
to drip out and evaporate, before steaming. Always being careful not to
use gasolene near a stove, lighted candle, lamp or gas.
When using gasolene for cleaning purposes, have it in a gasolene or
benzine safety can, used for that purpose, which may be had at any
hardware store.
To remove old hard paint or tar, apply the cleaning fluid freely and
place the sponge cloth over spot and press with the iron, as there is
nothing that will loosen paint or tar as well as steam or heat. If one
application is not sufficient repeat until loosened, then scrape off;
after that use more cleaning fluid to remove any stains that may remain,
then rinse in clean water.
To remove ink stains from woolen materials:
Apply cleaning fluid, two or three times, washing spots each time with
clean water, and sponge until stain disappears.
HOW TO WASH WOOLENS.
Place four ounces of soap bark in a gallon of water in a kettle on a
stove to boil, then add two more gallons of water. Throw this over the
goods, that has been placed in another basin for that purpose and rub
with the hands. Rinse in warm water, and hang up to dry. Iron on the
wrong side when damp, until dry, (this will remove all wrinkles and make
goods look like new). This is especially good for worn garments, that
are to be cut and made over.
Woolens should be squeezed, and not wrung, and the wrinkles straightened
out while drying.
HOW TO WASH BLACK WOOLEN DRESSES.
Have the dress ripped apart, brushed, and all dust and dirt removed from
the seams, also all the old stitches. Pour four gallons of water in a
pail or basin, adding four ounces of ammonia. Dip each piece of the
garment into the liquid, and swash up and down, and squeeze as dry as
possible, then hang over a pole, and when almost dry, iron from the
wrong side until dry, with an iron not too hot.
Woolen dresses, that are much soiled, may be washed in soap and water,
and rinsed out before dipping in the ammonia water, which will improve
the color to a great extent.
Any material, such as worsted, and wool garments should be sponged with
ammonia and water.
When cleaning with gasolene, benzine or naptha, to remove the odor, the
article should be placed as near a steam radiator as possible, or in a
drying room heated by steam or otherwise, this removes the odor, the
steam heat dries out whatever of the fluid may have remained in the
material, and does so without the danger of explosion which makes it
impossible to dry a garment cleaned with the above near a lighted stove,
lamp, candle or gas.
HOW TO WASH CHAMOIS VESTS.
Wash with white soap and warm water, making a good lather and rubbing
well between the hands. Lay flat on a table, and rub with a dry, clean
cloth; rinse; then roll in another cloth and wring as dry as possible.
Unroll and stretch well; hang up, and when nearly dry press with a warm
iron, being careful not to have the iron too hot or it will spoil the
chamois.
HOW TO CLEAN SILK.
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TWO EXPEDITIONS INTO THE INTERIOR OF SOUTHERN AUSTRALIA,
VOLUME II
by
Charles Sturt
TWO EXPEDITIONS INTO THE INTERIOR OF SOUTHERN AUSTRALIA DURING THE
YEARS 1828, 1829, 1830, 1831 WITH OBSERVATIONS ON THE SOIL, CLIMATE AND
GENERAL RESOURCES OF THE COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOLUME II.
"For though most men are contented only to see a river as it runs by
them, and talk of the changes in it as they happen; when it is
troubled, or when clear; when it drowns the country in a flood, or
forsakes it in a drought: yet he that would know the nature of the
water, and the causes of those accidents (so as to guess at their
continuance or return), must find out its source, and observe with what
strength it rises, what length it runs, and how many small streams fall
in, and feed it to such a height, as make it either delightful or
terrible to the eye, and useful or dangerous to the country about
it."...SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S NETHERLANDS.
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME
EXPEDITION DOWN THE MORUMBIDGEE AND MURRAY RIVERS, IN 1829, 1830 AND
1831.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory--Remarks on the results of the former Expedition--The
fitting out of another determined on--Its objects--Provisions,
accoutrements, and retinue--Paper furnished by Mr. Kent--Causes that
have prevented the earlier appearance of the present work.
CHAPTER II.
Commencement of the expedition in November, 1829.--Joined by Mr. George
M'Leay--Appearance of the party--Breadalbane Plains--Hospitality of Mr.
O'Brien--Yass Plains--Hill of Pouni--Path of a hurricane--Character of
the country between Underaliga and the Morumbidgee--Appearance of that
river--Junction of the Dumot with it--Crossing and recrossing--Geological
character and general aspect of the country--Plain of Pondebadgery--Few
natives seen.
CHAPTER III.
Character of the Morumbidgee where it issues from the hilly
country--Appearance of approach to swamps--Hamilton Plains--Intercourse
with the natives--Their appearance, customs, &c.--Change in the
character of the river--Mirage--Dreariness of the country--Ride towards
the Lachlan river--Two boats built and launched on the Morumbidgee; and
the drays, with part of the men sent back to Goulburn Plains.
CHAPTER IV.
Embarkation of the party in the boats, and voyage down the
Morumbidgee--The skiff swamped by striking on a sunken tree--Recovery
of boat and its loading--Region of reeds--Dangers of the
navigation--Contraction of the channel--Reach the junction of a large
river--Intercourse with the natives on its banks--Character of the
country below the junction of the rivers--Descent of a dangerous
rapid--Warlike demonstrations of a tribe of natives--Unexpected
deliverance from a conflict with them--Junction of another river--Give
the name of the "Murray" to the principal stream.
CHAPTER V.
Character of the country--Damage of provisions--Adroitness of the
natives in catching fish--The skiff broken up--Stream from the
North-East supposed to be the Darling--Change of country in descending
the river--Intercourse with the natives--Prevalence of loathsome
diseases among them--Apparent populousness of the country--Junction of
several small streams--The Rufus, the Lindesay, &c.--Rainy and
tempestuous weather--Curious appearance of the banks--Troublesomeness
of the natives--Inhospitable and desolate aspect of the
country--Condition of the men--Change in the geological character of
the country--The river passes through a valley among hills.
CHAPTER VI.
Improvement in the aspect of the country--Increase of the river--Strong
westerly gales--Chronometer broken--A healthier tribe of
natives--Termination of the Murray in a large lake--Its extent and
environs--Passage across it--Hostile appearance of the natives--Beautiful
scenery--Channel from the lake to the sea at Encounter Bay--Reach the
beach--Large flocks of water fowl--Curious refraction--State of
provisions--Embarrassing situation--Inspection of the channel to the
ocean--Weak condition of the men--Difficulties of the return.
CHAPTER VII.
Valley of the Murray--Its character and capabilities--Laborious
progress up the river--Accident to the boat--Perilous collision with
the natives--Turbid current of the Rufus--Passage of the
Rapids--Assisted by the natives--Dangerous intercourse with
them--Re-enter the Morumbidgee--Verdant condition of its
banks--Nocturnal encounter with the natives--Interesting manifestation
of feeling in one family--Reach the spot where the party had embarked
on the river--Men begin to fail entirely--Determine to send two men
forward for relief--Their return--Excursion on horseback--Reach
Pondebadgery Plain, and meet the supplies from the colony--Cannibalism
of the natives--Return to Sydney--Concluding remarks.
CHAPTER VIII.
Environs of the lake Alexandrina--Appointment of Capt. Barker to make a
further survey of the coast near Encounter Bay--Narrative of his
proceedings--Mount Lofty, Mount Barker, and beautiful country
adjacent--Australian salmon--Survey of the coast--Outlet of lake to the
sea--Circumstances that led to the slaughter of Capt. Barker by the
natives--His character--Features of this part of the country and
capabilities of its coasts--Its adaptation for colonization--Suggestions
for the furtherance of future Expeditions.
APPENDIX.
No. I. Geological Specimens found to the south-west of Port Jackson
No. II. Official Report to the Colonial Government
ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE SECOND VOLUME
(Not included in this etext)
View on the Morumbidgee River
Junction of the supposed Darling with the Murray
Palaeornis Melanura, or Black Tailed Paroquet
Pomatorhinus Temporalis
Pomatorhinus Superciliosus
Chart of Cape Jervis, and Encounter Bay
Mass of Fossils of the Tertiary Formation
Bulla
Conus
Genus Unknown
Chrystallized Selenite
Selenite
Single Fossils of the Tertiary Formation
EXPEDITION DOWN THE MORUMBIDGEE AND MURRAY RIVERS, IN 1829, 1830 AND
1831.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory
Remarks on the results of the former Expedition--The fitting out of
another determined on--Its objects--Provisions, accoutrements, and
retinue--Paper furnished by Mr. Kent--Causes that have prevented the
earlier appearance of the present work.
OBJECTS OF THE EXPEDITION.
The expedition of which we have just detailed the proceedings was so
far satisfactory in its results, that it not only set at rest the
hypothesis of the existence of an internal shoal sea in southern
Australia, and ascertained the actual termination of the rivers it had
been directed to trace, but also added very largely to our knowledge of
the country considerably to the westward of former discoveries. And
although no land had been traversed of a fertile description of
sufficient extent to invite the settler, the fact of a large river such
as the Darling lying at the back of our almost intertropical
settlements, gave a fresh importance to the distant interior. It was
evident that this river was the chief drain for carrying off the waters
falling westerly from the eastern coast, and as its course indicated a
decline of country diametrically opposite to that which had been
calculated upon, it became an object of great importance to ascertain
its further direction. Had not the saline quality of its waters been
accounted for, by the known existence of brine springs in its bed, it
would have been natural to have supposed that it communicated with some
mediterranean sea; but, under existing circumstances, it remained to be
proved whether this river held on a due south course, or whether it
ultimately turned westerly, and ran into the heart of the interior. In
order fully to determine this point, it would be necessary to regain it
banks, so far below the parallel to which it had been traced as to
leave no doubt of its identity; but it was difficult to fix upon a plan
for approaching that central stream without suffering from the want of
water, since it could hardly be expected that the Lachlan would afford
such means, as it was reasonable to presume that its termination was
very similar to that of the Macquarie. The attention of the government
was, consequently, fixed upon the Morumbidgee, a river stated to be of
considerable size and of impetuous current. Receiving its supplies from
the lofty ranges behind Mount Dromedary, it promised to hold a longer
course than those rivers which, depending on periodical rains alone for
existence, had been found so soon to exhaust themselves.
PREPARATIONS.
The fitting out of another expedition was accordingly determined upon;
and about the end of September 1829, I received the Governor's
instructions to make the necessary preparations for a second descent
into the interior, for the purpose of tracing the Morumbidgee, or such
rivers as it might prove to be connected with, as far as practicable.
In the event of failure in this object, it was hoped that an attempt to
regain the banks of the Darling on a N.W. course from the point at
which the expedition might be thwarted in its primary views, would not
be unattended with success. Under any circumstances, however, by
pursuing these measures, an important part of the colony would
necessarily be traversed, of which the features were as yet altogether
unknown.
It became my interest and my object to make the expedition as complete
as possible, and, as far as in me lay, to provide for every
contingency: and as it appeared to me that, in all likelihood, we
should in one stage or other of our journey have to trust entirely to
water conveyance, I determined on taking a whale-boat, whose dimensions
and strength should in some measure be proportioned to the service
required. I likewise constructed a small still for the distillation of
water, in the event of our finding the water of the Darling salt, when
we should reach its banks. The whale-boat, after being fitted, was
taken to pieces for more convenient carriage, as has been more
particularly detailed in the last chapter of the preceding volume.
So little danger had been apprehended from the natives in the former
journey, that three firelocks had been considered sufficient for our
defence. On the present occasion, however, I thought it adviseable to
provide arms for each individual.
Mr. Hume declined accompanying me, as the harvest was at hand. Mr.
George M'Leay therefore supplied his place, rather as a companion than
as an assistant; and of those who accompanied me down the banks of the
Macquarie, I again selected Harris (my body servant), Hopkinson, and
Fraser.
MR. KENT'S REPORT.
The concluding chapter of this volume, relative to the promontory of
St. Vincent, or Cape Jervis, has been furnished me by the kindness of
Mr. Kent, who accompanied the lamented officer to whom the further
exploration of that part of coast unhappily proved fatal. There is a
melancholy coincidence between Captain Barker's death and that of
Captain Cook, which cannot fail to interest the public, as the
information that has been furnished will call for their serious
consideration. I shall leave for their proper place, the remarks I have
to offer upon it, since my motive in these prefatory observations has
been, to carry the reader forward to that point at which he will have
to view the proceedings of the expedition alone, in order the more
satisfactorily to arrive at their results. And, although he must expect
a considerable portion of dry reading in the following pages, I have
endeavoured to make the narrative of events, some of which are
remarkably striking, as interesting as possible.
REMARKS ON THE PRESENT WORK; DELIVERANCE FROM DANGERS.
It only remains for me to refer the reader to the concluding chapter of
the preceding volume, for such general information as I have been
enabled to furnish upon the nature of the services on which I was
employed, and on the manner of conducting similar expeditions. Indeed,
I trust that this book (whatever be its defects) will be found to
contain much valuable information of a practical character, and I may
venture to affirm, that it will give a true description of the country,
and of the various other subjects of which it treats.
Notwithstanding that I have in my dedication alluded to the causes that
prevented the earlier appearance of this work, I feel it due both to
myself and the public here to state, that during these expeditions my
health had suffered so much, that I was unable to bear up against the
effects of exposure, bodily labour, poverty of diet, and the anxiety of
mind to which I was subjected. A residence on Norfolk Island, under
peculiarly harassing circumstances, completed that which the above
causes had commenced; and, after a succession of attacks, I became
totally blind, and am still unable either to read what I pen, or to
venture abroad without an attendant. When it is recollected, that I
have been unassisted in this work in any one particular, I hope some
excuse will be found for its imperfections. A wish to contribute to the
public good led me to undertake those journeys which have cost me so
much. The same feeling actuates me in recording their results; and I
have the satisfaction to know, that my path among a large and savage
population was a bloodless one; and that my intercourse with them was
such as to lessen the danger to future adventurers upon such hazardous
enterprises, and to give them hope where I had so often despaired.
Something more powerful, than human foresight or human prudence,
appeared to avert the calamities and dangers with which I and my
companions were so frequently threatened; and had it not been for the
guidance and protection we received from the Providence of that good
and all-wise Being to whose care we committed ourselves, we should, ere
this, have ceased to rank among the number of His earthly creatures.
CHAPTER II.
Commencement of the expedition in November, 1829.--Joined by Mr. George
M'Leay--Appearance of the party--Breadalbane Plains--Hospitality of Mr.
O'Brien--Yass Plains--Hill of Pouni--Path of a hurricane--Character of
the country between Underaliga and the Morumbidgee--Appearance of that
river--Junction of the Dumot with it--Crossing and recrossing--Geological
character and general aspect of the country--Plain of Pondebadgery--Few
natives seen.
The expedition which traversed the marshes of the Macquarie, left
Sydney on the 10th day of Nov. 1828. That destined to follow the waters
of the Morumbidgee, took its departure from the same capital on the 3rd
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BOOKS LATELY PUBLISHED BY
ADAM BLACK, EDINBURGH, AND LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, & GREEN LONDON.
A SYSTEM of UNIVERSAL GEOGRAPHY, by M. MALTE-BRUN, Editor of the "Annales
des Voyages," &c. Parts I. to XII. price 7s. 6d. each. To be completed in
Fourteen Parts.
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Produced by Al Haines.
*David Graham Phillips*
_*The*_*
HUNGRY HEART*
_*A NOVEL*_
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1909
Copyright, 1909, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_Published September, 1909_
*THE HUNGRY HEART*
*I*
Courtship and honeymoon of Richard Vaughan and Courtney Benedict are
told accurately enough by a thousand chroniclers of love's fairy tales
and dreams. Where such romances end in a rosily vague "And they lived
happily ever after," there this history begins. Richard and Courtney
have returned from Arcady to reality, to central Indiana and the Vaughan
homestead, across the narrow width of Wenona the lake from Wenona the
town.
The homecoming was late in a June evening, with a perfumed coolness
descending upon the young lovers from the grand old trees, round the
Vaughan house like his bodyguard round a king. Next morning toward
eight Courtney, still half asleep, reached out hazily. Her hand met
only the rumpled linen on Richard's side of the huge fourposter. She
started up, brushed back the heavy wave of auburn hair fallen over her
brow, gazed down at his pillow. The dent of his head, but not he. Her
eyes searched the dimness. The big room contained only a few large
pieces of old mahogany; at a glance she saw into every corner. Alone in
the room. Her eyes, large and anxious now, regarded the half-open door
of the dressing room to the rear.
"Dick!" she called hopefully.
No answer.
"Dick!" she repeated, a note of doubt in her voice.
Silence.
"Dick!" she repeated reproachfully. It was the first morning she had
awakened without the sense of his nearness that had become so dear, so
necessary. It was the first morning in this house strange to her--in
this now life they were to make beautiful and happy together. She gave
a forlorn sigh like a disappointed child, drew up her knees, rested her
elbows upon them, and her small head upon her hands. Sitting there in
the midst of that bed big enough for half a dozen as small as she, she
suggested a butterfly poised motionless with folded wings. A moment and
she lifted her drooped head. How considerate of him not to wake her
when the three days and nights on train had been so wearing!
Swift and light as a butterfly she sprang from the bed, flung open the
shutters of the lake-front windows. In poured summer like gay cavalcade
through breach in gloomy walls--summer in full panoply of perfume and
soft air and sparkling sunshine. She almost laughed aloud for joy at
this timely rescue. She gazed away across the lake to the town where
she was born and bred! "Home!" she cried. "And so happy--so utterly
happy!" Her expression, her whole manner, her quick movements gave the
impression of the impulsive self-unconsciousness of a child.
It was a radiant figure, small and perfect like a sun sprite, that
issued from the room three quarters of an hour later to flit along the
polished oak hall, to descend a stairway glistening like hall above and
wider and loftier hall below. With hair piled high on her small head,
with tail of matinee over her arm and tall heels clicking merrily on the
steps, she whistled as she went. Some people--women--criticised that
laughter-loving mouth of hers as too wide for so small a face. It
certainly did not suggest a button-hole. But no one could have found
fault with the shape of the mouth or with the coloring, whether of the
lips or within, or with her teeth, pearl white and seeming the whiter
for the rose bronze of her skin--the shade that seems to be of the
essence of youth, health, and summer. Her nose was rather large, but
slender and well shaped. It was the nose of mobility, of sensitiveness,
of intelligence, not at all of repose. And there were her eyes, of a
strange soft emerald, with long dark lashes; the brows long also and
only slightly curved, and slender yet distinct. These eyes were her
greatest beauty--greater even than her skin. It would have been
difficult to say whether in them or in her mouth lay her greatest charm,
for charm is not always beauty, and beauty often wholly lacks charm.
But woman feels that figure determines the woman--"the woman" meaning,
of course, efficiency as a man catcher. It was upon Courtney's flawless
figure that the sour glance of old Nanny, the head servant, rested--old
Nanny, whose puritanism aggravated for her by suppression all the damned
charms of "the flesh." Nanny had reigned supreme in that house ever
since Dick Vaughan was left alone; so from the first news of the
engagement she had been hating Courtney, whom she regarded as her
supplanter. As Courtney entered the dining room, stiff and dim and
chilly, like all the rooms in that house, old Nanny was superintending
fat, subdued Mazie at work at the breakfast table. It occupied the
exact center of the room, formal as for a state banquet.
"Good morning," cried Courtney in her charming manner of bright
friendliness. "Good morning, Mazie. Am I late? Where's Richard?" Her
voice was deeper than one would have expected, but low and musical.
Mazie smiled a welcome, then cast a frightened glance of apology at
Nanny, who did not smile. "Mr. Richard's down to the Smoke House," said
she.
The Smoke House was the laboratory Dick's grandfather, Achilles Vaughan,
had built for him on the site of the smoke house of the pioneer Vaughan,
settler there when Wenona was a trading post in New France. "Of
course!" said Courtney. "I might have known. He wanted to go last
night, but I wouldn't let him."
Nanny scowled at this innocent, laughing "I wouldn't let him." She
turned on Mazie, who was gazing open-mouthed at Courtney's simple, fresh
finery. "What'r ye gawkin' here fur, with your mouth hangin' like a
chicken with the gaps?" she demanded in a fierce aside. Mazie lumbered
through the door into the kitchen. "As I was saying," continued Nanny
to her new mistress, "he's put in most nigh all his time down to that
there smoke house day and night--ever since his aunt, Miss Eudosia,
died. Yes, an' before that, while Colonel 'Kill, his grandfather, was
still alive. He's got sleeping rooms and everything in the upstairs.
He often don't come here even to meals for weeks. Mazie or Jimmie carry
'em to him."
Courtney nodded. "A regular hermit. It was the merest chance that we
happened to meet."
"You was the first young woman he'd laid an eye on in a long time."
Nanny's tone was colorless. Only a very stupid woman puts both barb and
poison on a shaft when either is enough. Courtney, who understood and
felt remorseful about the old woman's jealous anger, answered with
good-humored gentleness: "I guess that _was_ why I got him. But he'll
not be a hermit any more."
"He's begun already," said Nanny.
"We mustn't allow it," replied Courtney, not quite so good-humoredly.
The old woman's steady bearing down was having its effect.
"There's no goin' agin nature. The Vaughan men ain't ever bothered much
about women. They don't let foolishness detain 'em long. And this
one's his gran'paw over agin. When he gits at his work, he's like a dog
after a rabbit."
"It seems a little chilly and damp in here," said Courtney. "Do help me
open the windows. I love sun and air."
"Miss Eudosia--" began Nanny, and checked herself with a considerable
shortening of the distance between chin and end of nose.
Courtney understood what that beginning meant. But she ignored. "And,"
she went on, busying herself with curtains and fastenings, "we'll move
the table in front of this big window. I like breakfast near the window
in summer, near the fire in winter."
Nanny lowered upon the small straight young figure, so bright and
graceful. "Miss Eudosia--" she began fiercely. Again she checked
herself, but it was to say with bitterness, "But then she's dead--and
forgot."
"No, indeed!" protested Courtney. "You'd have thought she'd gone only a
few months ago instead of four years if you'd heard Richard talking
about her yesterday. And I'm sure she'd have done what I'm suggesting if
she'd happened to think of it." Then with a look that might have
softened any but a woman resolved to hate another woman: "Do try to
humor me in little things, Nanny. I'll be very meek about things that
do matter. I've had no experience in keeping house. You'll teach me,
won't you?"
Nanny stood inflexible, her wrinkled hands folded tightly at the waist
line of her black alpaca. She could not help Courtney displace that
table from its ancient site. It was as if this frivolous, whistling,
useless chit of an ornamental wife were violating the sacred Eudosia's
coffin--the graves of all the Vaughans--for traditions are graves, and
Nanny, like all who live by tradition, lived among graves. After a time
Courtney, more nervous under those angry eyes than she showed, got the
table at the open window. The room was livable now, and after she had
rearranged the dishes the table looked invitingly human. But her
buoyant young enthusiasm had oozed away. With wistful gaze out over
prim lawns and flower beds, stiff and staid as Sunday, she said: "I
guess I'll bring Richard to breakfast."
"He et before he went."
"Oh!" Courtney's tone showed that she was hurt. But she instantly
brightened. "I'll get him to come and sit with me while I have
breakfast."
A covert sneering smile in the depths of Nanny's eyes made her flush
angrily. "If I was you I wouldn't interrupt him," said the old woman.
"He don't allow it."
"How absurd!" cried Courtney. But straightway she was amazed and
shocked at herself--on this her first morning in the new and beautiful
life, to be drawn nearer a vulgar squabble than in all her nineteen
years--and with an old woman toward whom it would be cowardice not to be
forbearing. "I'm cross because I'm hungry," she said contritely.
"While breakfast's coming I'll run down for him."
"He's set in his ways," said Nanny.
"He'll not mind me--this once." And she took up her train and went by
the long French window to the broad veranda with its big fluted pillars.
At the end steps she paused. Yes, it was summer in the Vaughan grounds
as elsewhere. But that prodigal wanton had there been caught, had had
her tresses sleeked and bound, her luxuriant figure corseted and clad in
the most repellant classical severity. Courtney, of the eyes keen for
color and form and fitness of things, felt rebuked and subdued once
more. She glanced farther round, saw Nanny's parchment face and
sinister gaze watching and hating her. There is a limit beyond which
youth refuses to be suppressed and compressed, and defiantly expands in
more than its natural gay audacity. This climax of Nanny,
representative of Vaughans not so rigid in death as they had been in
life, was just the necessary little-too-much. With a laugh and a toss
of the head, she swung her skirts very high indeed above her pretty
ankles and ran like a young antelope across the lawn, and into and along
the path leading away toward the eastern part of the grounds. Through a
carefully artificial thicket of lilacs, elders, and snowballs she sped,
then through a small wood with not a spray of underbrush anywhere. She
came out in a clearing at the water's edge. Before her, one of its
walls rising sheer from the retaining wall of the lake, stood the
laboratory.
She paused astonished. She had expected a temporary sort of structure.
Before her rose a fitting temple for the mysteries of the "black art."
It was a long two-story building of stone and brick, not visible from
the lake proper because it stood upon the bank of a deep, narrow inlet.
The weather had stained its walls into the semblance of age wherever
they showed through the heavy mantle of bitter-sweet that overspread
even the roof. Around the place hung an air of aloofness and seclusion,
of mystery, that appealed to her young instinct for the romantic. The
brick path divided into two. One went to what was obviously the
entrance to the second-story bachelor suite; the other turned to the
left, rounded the corner of the house, ended at the massive iron door of
the laboratory proper.
This door was wide open. Courtney stood upon the threshold like a
bright bird peering from the sunshine into the entrance to a cave. The
air that came out was heavy with the odors of chemicals, but not sharp
or especially unpleasant. Besides, in high school and college she had
done a good deal at chemistry, enough to be seized of its fascination.
She stood gazing into a big high-ceilinged room, filled with a
bewildering variety of unusual articles--gigantic bottles, cylinders,
vials, jars of glass, of stone, of metal; huge retorts with coils of
pipe, lead and rubber; lamps and balances and mortars; tiers on tiers of
crowded shelves of glass and porcelain and iron; drying ovens,
distilling apparatus, condensers and generators, crushers and
pulverizers, cupels and cupel trays, calorimeters and crucibles and
microscopes; floor all but filled with batteries and engines and
machines of gold and platinum, of aluminum and copper, of brass and
steel and glass and nickel. A thousand articles, in the orderly
confusion that indicates constant use.
She was more and more amazed as she stared and reflected. "He works
with all these things!" thought she, depressed for no clear reason. "I
had no idea--no idea!"
She ventured a step farther. In a twinkling her expression of wonder
and vague pain vanished before a love light that seemed to stream not
from her face only, but from her whole body, with those rare eyes of
hers as radiating centers. She was seeing Richard--near a window, so
standing that his long high-bred face was in profile to her. He was
tall, well above six feet; his careless flannels revealed the strong,
slender, narrow form of the pioneers and their pure-blooded descendants.
His fairish hair was thick and wavy--"Thank Heaven, not curly!" thought
Courtney.
She did not interrupt. She preferred to watch him, to | 284.119382 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.1007000 | 7,436 | 14 |
Produced by Mark C. Orton and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
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Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores: _italics_.
THAT LAST WAIF OR SOCIAL QUARANTINE
HORACE FLETCHER'S WORKS
THE A.B.-Z. OF OUR OWN NUTRITION.
Thirteenth thousand. 462 pp.
THE NEW MENTICULTURE; OR,
THE A-B-C OF TRUE LIVING. Forty-Eighth thousand. 310 pp.
THE NEW GLUTTON OR EPICURE; OR,
ECONOMIC NUTRITION. Fifteenth thousand. 344 pp.
HAPPINESS AS FOUND IN FORETHOUGHT MINUS FEARTHOUGHT.
Fourteenth thousand. 251 pp.
THAT LAST WAIF; OR,
SOCIAL QUARANTINE. Sixth thousand. 270 pp.
THAT LAST WAIF
OR
SOCIAL QUARANTINE
A BRIEF
BY
HORACE FLETCHER
_Advocate for the Waifs_
_Fellow American Association for the Advancement of Science_
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
1909
MATTHEW, xviii; 1, 2 and 14
1. At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus saying,
Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?
2. And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him
in the midst of them.
14. Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in
heaven, that one of these little ones should perish?
COPYRIGHT, 1898
BY HORACE FLETCHER
CONTENTS
1903 PREFACE, ix
PREFACE, 9
THE LOST WAIF, 17
MENACE OF THE HAVE-TO-BE, 39
SOCIAL QUARANTINE FIRST, 71
QUARANTINE, 93
UNCIVILIZED INCONSISTENCIES, 105
QUARANTINE AGAINST IDLENESS, 131
QUARANTINE AGAINST MISUNDERSTANDING, 145
QUARANTINE AGAINST MALADMINISTRATION, 157
SUGGESTIONS FOR LOCAL QUARANTINE ORGANIZATION, 169
SARAH B. COOPER, 191
CORROBORATIVE TESTIMONY, 221
"AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM," 227
SUMMARY, 233
LOGICAL SEQUENCES, 251
APPENDIX:
IT HAS BEGUN, 263
DEDICATION, 269
"_It was Juvenal who said, 'The man's character is made at seven; what
he then is, he will always be.' This seems a sweeping assertion, but
Aristotle, Plato, Lycurgus, Plutarch, Bacon, Locke, and Lord Brougham,
all emphasize the same idea, while leading educators of a modern day
are all united upon this point._" [_Sarah B. Cooper, to the National
Conference of Charities and Correction of the United States and
Canada._]
* * * * *
"_This institution was established as the result of a quickened public
conscience on the subject of waifs of the State, a comprehensive
understanding of the relation of the State to the child, and the
demonstrated effect of such institutions in decreasing crime._" [_The
American Journal of Sociology, May, 1898, page 790._]
FOREWORD
"Waif," as herein employed, applies to all neglected or abused
children, and not especially to those who have lost their parents, or
have been abandoned.
While the evidence of the kindergartners may seem extreme as to the
possibility of making useful citizens of _all_ children, the unanimity
of their enthusiasm must be taken as very strong evidence.
The plea for a social quarantine which shall establish protection for
helpless infancy during the period of present neglect, and when the
cost is insignificant, is made in the belief that, once attracted to
the idea of the possibility of social quarantine, which is nothing if
not complete, popular sentiment will demand a continuance of organized
protection for each member of society as long as he may be helpless or
weak, without reference to an age limit.
Immediate special attention, however, should be given to the victims
of the "sweaters," to unsanitary work-rooms and other environing
conditions provided by conscienceless (usually alien) employers, and
to the prevention of children being employed in occupations where
temptation is so strong as to be a menace to unformed character.
1903 PREFACE
When first published, five years ago, this appeal for better care of
children born into unfortunate environment met with very favorable
reception, especially from practical child educators and child
economists; and the author received numerous requests to address
gatherings of altruists in various parts of the country. He responded
to some forty of these invitations, and met with warmest encouragement
and the assurance that the sentiment of this book was shared pretty
generally, when the facts in the case were understood. In meeting men
of all kinds in the outside world, as well as women from whom a
generous sympathy might be expected, he found that any scheme offering
care and protection for neglected children excited the sympathy and
enlisted the assistance of all classes, and most readily the aid of
people in the more lowly walks of life, who came nearer to the need
and realized the want. The wealthy Christian mother of the Avenue
would respond to the suggestion of a more efficient care for the
helpless ones with "We should certainly do all that we can for these
poor little unfortunates, for Christ's sake;" while the ruddy
barkeeper, who unwillingly pushed out the bottle to a parent of
neglected kids in the slums, when talked to about an effective
quarantine to protect the neglected ones, would say, "Certainly; yes,
indeed! for Christ's sake give the babies a chance."
In both cases the sympathy and sentiment were the same, and the author
believes it to be universal. All that is needed to guard against
helplessness is concentration of interest, for a little time, on this
one elementary need, and the full measure of reform will soon be in
effective operation.
While the conferences above referred to were being held, the author
had opportunity to learn the existing conditions, relative to the
greatest and most fundamental needs in approaching and perfecting a
reform of the kind recommended, and learned that uncertain, irregular,
or otherwise faulty nourishment is the cause of much perversion among
the poor, and is especially harmful to the young among them. The
author had just completed his initial experiments, and had published
the booklet "What Sense? or, Economic Nutrition," and by them saw a
way to provide teachers, mothers, and other child protectors with a
teachable theory of nutrition that seemed to him to be scientific but
simple, and which had been most gratifyingly effective wherever it had
been intelligently tried.
But in the course of these lecture conferences it developed that more
than the unsupported word of a layman was necessary in order to even
command attention in a matter that everybody thought they knew all
about themselves, and in whose general opinion the whole world joined.
It did not seem credible, although quite logical, that health, morals,
temperament, physical efficiency, and all the requirements of virtue
and good citizenship could be mended or modified by mere attention to
the ingestion of food and more careful eating.
As time went on it seemed evident to the author that not only was a
right intelligence, relative to the initial act of nutrition, helpful
in conserving health, but that it was fundamentally necessary to
physical efficiency, mental clearness, and moral tone, and that all
work, which was done by educators without this basic knowledge as an
underlying necessity of teaching or training, could but be simply
ameliorative and not curative in its effect; and, failing to be able
to say the convincing word himself, it seemed necessary for the author
to interest the highest physiological authority in the subject and
make demonstration a means of convincing them. This, in order that
they might speak to deaf ears with the effectiveness of the megaphone,
while poor lay I, the author, could not raise my voice above a
whisper.
In transferring this book to the "A.B.C. Series," and linking it up
with the "A.B.-Z. of Our Own Nutrition," and other books of the
"Series," the megaphonic connection has been established, and now the
attorney for the waifs is ready to turn on a renewed current of
sympathy and see what will happen.
The work, as it originally shaped itself, was dropped by the author,
for the time being, as being built on sand, if presented without a
good theory of scientific feeding as one of the foundation principles,
and hence these intervening five years have been employed in getting
authority for the economic theory required.
These five years also have added _time-proof_ to the personal
experience of the author, and have added many confirmatory experiences
to his own. Continued pursuit of the subject has also developed
possibilities of endurance, efficiency, and happiness that were not
known to exist in former times, so that we begin to doubt if the
normal man or woman has been seen in the world since history has given
us a record.
During these five years of study of the question, left incomplete in
the present volume as first issued, only confirmatory evidence of the
hopes expressed herein has been deduced. The author has had abundant
opportunity to add experiences in England, Italy, and, in fact, all
over Europe, and in this country, that strengthen the faith and call
for action or guilt of infamous indifference. The work of Dr. Bernardo
in England has progressed steadily, and each annual showing is better
than the last, while the public demonstrations at Albert Hall, London,
are becoming more intrinsically interesting than any other exhibitions
or entertainments that are held in that great auditorium.
The Salvation Army work, too, has been closely inspected and followed,
and, while its aims are more curative than preventive, and give
promises in the future rather than in the immediate present, it cannot
but meet with highest approval for what it does in a practical way
among the degenerate. Quite recently General Booth has added a
Department of Hygiene to his staff outfit, and the whole tendency of
the work is improving and is already splendid. It is not yet broad
enough, however, and does not deal with the basic necessities of
complete nutrition reform applied to children.
The whole course of reform on charitable principles has been steadily
progressive, but the most conclusive and convincing demonstration of
possibilities, all the way from waif-saving to the last ultimate
refinement of physical and mental reform, has been given us by two of
the most modest and self-unconscious persons possible to imagine. To
Dr. and Mrs. J. H. Kellogg, of Battle Creek, Michigan, we owe more
than any of us can ever pay for a demonstration of humane
possibilities, which proves the full contentions of this book most
conclusively. Twenty-four of the most unfortunate of waifs, rescued
and endowed with all the opportunity of respectable manhood and
womanhood and good citizenship, is the record of this one little
married but childless couple; and after that who shall ever dare to
say that there should ever be any "Have-to-be-bad" persons to fill an
altogether unnecessary "ten-per-cent-of-submerged-stratum" of society?
Some account of this family of true and practical salvation is given
in the "A.B.-Z. of Our Own Nutrition" and in "The New Glutton or
Epicure," and need not be repeated here, for without full appreciation
of the contents of each of the books of the "A.B.C. Series" the
argument of either is incomplete.
H. F.
Explanation of The A.B.C. Life Series
THE ESSENTIALS AND SEQUENCE IN LIFE
It would seem a considerable departure from the study of menticulture
as advised in the author's book, "Menticulture," to jump at once to an
investigation of the physiology and psychology of nutrition of the
body and then over to the department of infant and child care and
education as pursued in the _fearthought_ and in the kindergarten; but
as a matter of fact, if study of the causation of human disabilities
and misfortunes is attempted at all, the quest leads naturally into
all the departments of human interest, and first into these primary
departments.
The object of this statement is to link up the different publications
of the writer into a chain of consistent suggestions intended to make
life a more simple and agreeable problem than many of us too
indifferent or otherwise inefficient and bad fellow-citizens make of
it.
It is not an altogether unselfish effort on the part of the author of
the A.B.C. Life Series to publish his findings. In the consideration
of his own mental and physical happiness it is impossible to leave out
environment, and all the units of humanity who inhabit the world are
part of his and of each other's environment.
It would be rank presumption for any person, even though gifted with
the means to circulate his suggestions as widely as possible, and
armed with the power to compel the reading of his publications, to
think that any suggestions of his could influence any considerable
number of his fellow-citizens of the world, or even of his own
immediate neighbourhood, to accept or follow his advice relative to
the management of their lives and of their communal and national
affairs; but while the general and complete good of humanity should be
aimed at in all publications, one's immediate neighbours and friends
come first, and the wave of influence spreads according to the
effectiveness of the ideas suggested in doing good; that is, in
altering the point of view and conduct of people so as to make them a
better sympathetic environment.
For instance, the children of your neighbours are likely to be the
playmates of your own children, and the children of degenerate parents
in the slum district of your city will possibly be the fellow-citizen
partners of your own family. Again, when it is known that right or
wrong nutrition of the body is the most important agent in forming
character, in establishing predisposition to temperance or
intemperance of living, including the desire for intoxicating
stimulants, it is revealed to one that right nutrition of the
community as a whole is an important factor in his own environment, as
is self-care in the case of his own nourishment.
The moment a student of every-day philosophy starts the study of
problems from the A.B.C. beginning of things, and to shape his study
according to an A.B.C. sequence, each cause of inharmony is at once
traced back to its first expression in himself and then to causes
influenced by his environments.
If we find that the largest influences for good or bad originate with
the right or wrong instruction of children during the home training or
kindergarten period of their development, and that a dollar expended
for education at that time is worth more for good than whole bancs of
courts and whole armies of police to correct the effect of bad
training and bad character later in life, it is quite logical to help
promote the spread of the kindergarten or the kindergarten idea to
include all of the children born into the world, and to furnish
mothers and kindergarten teachers with knowledge relative to the right
nutrition of their wards which they can themselves understand and can
teach effectively to children.
If we also find that the influence of the kindergarten upon the
parents of the infants is more potent than any other which can be
brought to bear upon them, we see clearly that the way to secure the
widest reform in the most thorough manner is to concentrate attention
upon the kindergarten phase of education, advocate its extension to
include even the last one of the children, beginning with the most
needy first, and extending the care outward from the centre of worst
neglect to finally reach the whole.
Experience in child saving so-called, and in child education on the
kindergarten principle, has taught the cheapest and the most
profitable way to insure an environment of good neighbours and
profit-earning citizens; and investigation into the problem of human
alimentation shows that a knowledge of the elements of an economic
nutrition is the first essential of a family or school training; and
also that this is most impressive when taught during the first ten
years of life.
One cannot completely succeed in the study of menticulture from its
A.B.C. beginning and in A.B.C. sequence without appreciation of the
interrelation of the physical and the mental, the personal and the
social, in attaining a complete mastery of the subject.
The author of the A.B.C. Life Series has pursued his study of the
philosophy of life in experiences which have covered a great variety
of occupations in many different parts of the world and among peoples
of many different nations and races. His first book, "Menticulture,"
dealt with purging the mind and habits of sundry weaknesses and
deterrents which have possession of people in general in some degree.
He recognised the depressing effect of anger and worry and other
phases of _fearthought_. In the book "Happiness," which followed next
in order, _fearthought_ was shown to be the unprofitable element of
forethought. The influence of environment on each individual was
revealed as an important factor of happiness, or the reverse, by means
of an accidental encounter with a neglected waif in the busy streets
of Chicago during a period of intense national excitement incident to
the war with Spain, and this led to the publication of "That Last
Waif; or, Social Quarantine." During the time that this last book was
being written, attention to the importance of right nutrition was
invited by personal disabilities, and the experiments described in
"Glutton or Epicure; or, Economic Nutrition" were begun and have
continued until now.
In the study of the latter, but most important factor in profitable
living, circumstances have greatly favoured the author, as related in
his latest book, "The A.B.-Z. of Our Own Nutrition."
The almost phenomenal circulation of "Menticulture" for a book of its
kind, and a somewhat smaller interest in the books on nutrition and
the appeal for better care of the waifs of society, showed that most
persons wished, like the author, to find a short cut to happiness by
means of indifference to environment, both internal and external,
while habitually sinning against the physiological dietetic
requirements of Nature. In smothering worry and guarding against anger
the psychic assistance of digestion was stimulated and some better
results were thereby obtained, but not the best attainable results.
Living is easy and life may be made constantly happy by beginning
right; and the right beginning is none other than the careful feeding
of the body. This done there is an enormous reserve of energy, a
naturally optimistic train of thought, a charitable attitude towards
everybody, and a loving appreciation of everything that God has made.
Morbidity of temperament will disappear from an organism that is
economically and rightly nourished, and death will cease to have any
terrors for such; and as _fear_ of death is the worst depressant
known, many of the _worries_ of existence take their everlasting
flight from the atmosphere of the rightly nourished.
The wide interest now prevalent in the subjects treated in The A.B.C.
Life Series is evidenced by the scientific, military, and lay
activity, in connection with the experiments at the Sheffield
Scientific School of Yale University and elsewhere, as related in the
"A.B.-Z. of Our Own Nutrition" and in "The New Glutton or Epicure" of
the series.
The general application is more fully shown, however, by the
indorsement of the great Battle Creek Sanitarium, which practically
studies all phases of the subject, from health conservation and child
saving to general missionary work in social reform.
HORACE FLETCHER.
PREFACE
"And a little child shall lead them."
* * * * *
The text of this appeal was furnished by the accidental observation of
a waif of not more than four years of age, who was gathered into the
meshes of the law, and then pushed back into a stifling atmosphere of
criminal neglect under ban of the official sentence, "Now get! you
little bastard, and to hell with you!"
* * * * *
This waif disappeared into the slums without leaving any clue to his
identity, and without any certainty of rescue, except by means of a
quickened public conscience that shall organize to mend the existing
defects arising from our careless lack of system in child protection,
so as to rescue _all waifs in need_, in order to include the lost
waif of our story.
* * * * *
The development of the day-nursery and kindergarten methods of child
care and character-building has proven that _ninety-eight per cent.,
at least_, of the formerly-considered "hopelessly submerged ten per
cent. stratum of society" can be saved and added to the mass of good
citizenship by these means, and that the insignificant few, abnormally
weak or perverse, are better subjects for industrial schools before
criminal tendencies develop into habit, than for street schools of
aimlessness and resultant crime.
* * * * *
Hope of success in exciting pity and justice for the victims of
neglect and persecution within our gates is nourished by the evidence
of that strong national sympathy for persecuted and neglected humanity
which caused the sacrifice of war for the relief of our suffering
neighbors in the island of Cuba. The same strength of purpose and
thoroughness of aim--at one-twentieth of the cost, applied to a
profitable investment instead--would free our fair land of the last
vestige of the neglect which now breeds ceaseless crime.
* * * * *
The spirit of reform is awake to the demands of present civilized
ideals. What we are willing to do for the _reconcentrados_ of Cuba,
let us do for our own defenseless ones!
* * * * *
The author dedicates the proceeds of the sale of this book, and
whatever personal effort may seem to be useful, to the home cause,
with the hope that his readers may enjoy the same happiness of
sympathy which has inspired the appeal, and join in a comprehensive
movement, with their mite or in the fullness of the strength they are
blessed with, to close up the present narrow gaps in social quarantine
through which all disease and disorder come, and thereby assist the
noble army of pioneers--the kindergartners and the social settlement
missionaries--to effectively stamp out the germs of epidemic disorder
which are now a shameful reproach to our manhood and a constant menace
to our happiness.
* * * * *
But there is still a brighter hope than that of a quickened humanitarian
conscience. There also is strong evidence of a quickening of _Christian_
conscience, which prompts the putting aside differences of creed and
uniting in efforts to apply the Golden Rule of the Master to _all_
helpless ones in need, in response to the prophecy and command: "Suffer
little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is
the Kingdom of Heaven." "And the Last shall be First."
* * * * *
We have won a battle in the cause of freedom abroad; and, while the
spirit of rescue is still keen, let us turn our burning search-lights
inward and purify our home conditions in a manner worthy of the ideals
we champion.
* * * * *
Among the recorded utterances of Christ there was no more direct
prophecy than, "And a little child shall lead them." That prophecy
will surely be fulfilled. Why not now?
"Within the past twenty-six years nine thousand five hundred and
fifty-six trained boys and girls, the flower of my flock, have
been placed out in situations in the colonies, and have been
continuously looked after and supervised ever since by a company
of devoted and experienced men and women. Results recently
tabulated in reports to and from the government of Canada show
that the failures among these emigrants is less than 2 per cent.
(actually only 1.84 per cent.) of the whole."--_Thomas J.
Barnardo, F.R.C.S., Ed. Founder of the "Doctor Barnardo's Homes,"
London, England._
THE LOST WAIF
"The simple and salient fact is, we do not get hold of little
children soon enough. An unfortunate childhood is the sure
prophecy of an unfortunate life. Implant lessons of virtue and
well-doing in earliest childhood, says Plato. Give me the child,
says Lord Bacon, and the state shall have the man. Let the very
playthings of your children have a bearing upon the life and work
of the coming man, says Aristotle. It is the early training that
makes the master, says the German poet. Train up a child in the
way he should go; and, when he is old, he will not depart from it,
says the Revealed Word."--_Sarah B. Cooper, before the National
Conference of Charities and Correction._
THE LOST WAIF
It was our first night in an American city after the breaking out of
war between Spain and the United States.
The States had undertaken the war for the purpose of freeing Cubans
from cruelties perpetrated by Spanish officials, and it was currently
reported that the government was spending more than a million of
dollars daily to accomplish the rescue. There was no doubt in the
minds of the American people of the justice of the American cause and
no one regretted the cost. Seven hundred and fifty thousand men had
volunteered to serve in the army or navy and Congress voted money as
freely as it was asked.
Let these facts stand as a background for our story.
* * * * *
Coming from Europe, as we had done, between two Wednesdays, without
passing through New York City, our first impressions of a wildly
enthusiastic patriotism, as manifested by the advertising class, were
gained in Chicago, and were especially striking by contrast with the
quiet of the lands we so recently had left. We had been studying
social questions in Germany, Holland and England during the past year,
and were therefore more observant of varied expressions and contrasts
in social life.
In the evening we strolled on the streets in company of a friend from
New Orleans, who was the first to greet us on arrival, to see the
wonderful window illuminations and color displays that made the
pavements at night brighter than day. Crowds of men, women and
children, representing every stratum of society, promenaded past these
shows or lingered before them. Behind great panes of plate glass were
groups of ghastly wax figures representing naval engagements or camps
of starving Cuban _reconcentrados_. The favorite mottoes displayed
were "Suffering Cuba Must Be Free," and "Remember the Maine." In
drinking places there was added to the last motto, "Down with Spain."
The show windows were continuous for many blocks and each shopman
tried to eclipse the displays of his neighbors by the novelty,
brilliancy or sensationalism of his own. Every known electrical device
was used in the effects and nothing that we had ever seen abroad--in
the Orient or in Europe--approached the wonder of these advertising
conceits. They were more marvelous than anything Madame Toussaud ever
designed. They formed a veritable Patrio-Commercial-Midway-Plaisance
and continued to attract a street-full of people until long after
midnight. Our New Orleans friend declared that "they had done more to
excite popular sympathy for the Cuban cause than the jaundiced
newspapers themselves."
At several points we met companies of Salvation Army men and women on
street duty. The old army under the command of General Booth and the
new American division under the Ballington-Booths were both in the
field. They were waging quite a different kind of warfare, but with
an enthusiasm not to be outdone by the newer cause. With drum,
tambourines, singing and prayers they tried to draw an audience from
the stream of the promenade to listen to appeals in behalf of starving
women and children _ter hell wid you_ in alleys, areas and cellars
within a quarter of a mile of the scene of all this patriotic
extravagance. The appeals of the Salvation soldiers were earnest and
pathetic, but their cause was no novelty and had lost its effect by a
monotony of iteration and reiteration, and the victims of abuse and
neglect that the army sought to rescue were too near to the feet of the
crowd to be seen and pitied. A few small coins, principally from
visiting countrymen, were collected, but scarcely enough, it seemed,
to support the commissariat of the army itself. The protests of the
speakers corroborated this seeming. Here were exhibited, side by side,
expressions of far-away charity and near-to neglect of it; an
incomprehensible inconsistency; a contrast, indeed!
But this is not the contrast royal of our story, which furnishes us
with our text. We were yet to witness an evidence of barbaric neglect
such as the bull ring does not engender and that even the cruelty of
the Dark Ages did not equal.
* * * * *
Our party had drifted with the crowd until nearly midnight, when we
turned toward Michigan Boulevard and the lake for quiet and fresh air.
We were full of the idea that Cuba would be made free, and proud of
America for realizing her destiny of being the pioneer in the vanguard
of progress toward universal freedom; but we were soon to be called
back to facts, and home realities, by a revelation of cruelest neglect
that must continue to haunt us until the possibility of such neglect
has ceased to exist. Under the shadow of the portal of the Pullman
Building, which serves as general offices of the Pullman's Palace Car
Company, we met an adventure that showed an appalling contrast to the
patriotic enthusiasm that blared in the thoroughfares we had just
quitted. We were arrested by the plaintive voice of a child in the
toils of a six-foot policeman.
"Please, mister," wailed the child, "lemme go. I didn't swipe none ov
dem cakes; 'twas me brudder and de odder kids dat swiped 'em; I ain't
done nothin', and I won't do nothin' no more if you'll only let me
slide; I won't never come out annudder night--honest I won't--if
you'll let me go. Me brudder an' de udder kids'll go home widout me
an' I don't know de way. Please, mister cop, lemme go; please!
please!!--"
The child could not have been more than four years of age, but his
small vocabulary was as full of the slang of the slums as it was
deficient in the terms of childhood and innocence. The policeman was
kindly disposed, but felt compelled to administer some sort of
correction, and this is how he did it: His reproof was well meant, but
oh! how evil was it in its suggestions to a soul just receiving its
first impressions of life, and of the world, out of which to build a
character.
"What's the use of your lyin' to me, yer little monkey? You know
you're a thief and the kid of thieves. The gang you trains wid is the
toughest in town. Every mother's brat of you'll deckerate a halter one
of those days--sooner or later anyhow, an' probably sooner. You're
born to it an' can't help it, I s'pose, but if I catches yer 'round
here again I'll thump yer on the head wid my club and you'll find
that'll hurt wurser'n a lickin'.--Where does yer live, anyhow?"
The child answered, giving an indefinite address on the West Side that
was undoubtedly false, as charged by the officer, but which was as
glibly given as a parrot's favorite phrase.
"Oh! I knows you're a-lyin,' but I knows yer gang just the same; it's
the rottenist in the city and turns out more thieves and murderers
than all the rest of town put together. Well! yer h'aint got much show
to be different; and, (turning to us, who had stopped to listen)--I
don't s'pose the kid's ter blame for doin' what all the people he
knows does all the time and thinks it's workin.' I s'pose his father
and mother sends him out to steal; that is, if he's got a
father--which 'aint likely. There's a gang of about fifty of 'em that
works my beat and durin' these excitin' times when there's big crowds
on the streets and plenty of hayseeds in town they give a pile of
trouble. They hangs around and swipes anything they can get hold of.
The little rascals knows that we 'aint got no place to jug 'em 'cept
in the regler coolers and as there 'aint no more'n enough room in them
for the big crooks we has to let 'em go, and the little cusses knows | 284.12074 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.1045220 | 247 | 13 |
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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)
INDEX
TO THE
STREETS, SQUARES, AND CAB STANDS,
COMPRISED IN
MOGG’S
NEW CAB FARE, DISTANCE MAP,
AND
GUIDE TO LONDON.
CONTAINING
THREE THOUSAND PLACES, WITH REFERENCES
TO THEIR SEVERAL SITUATIONS.
PUBLISHED BY W. MOGG,
62, HIGH STREET, BLOOMSBURY.
[Illustration: MOGG’S POSTAL-DISTRICT AND CAB-FARE MAP.
MOGG’S
LONDON
AND ITS
ENVIRONS
_Drawn from_
The latest Surveys
_By E. T. Mogg._]
INDEX.
EXPLANATION--The method here adopted is by dividing
the Plan into Squares, with Letters at the top and bottom to
correspond, and also Figures down the sides. It is therefore
| 284.124562 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.1803880 | 741 | 18 |
Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print archive.
[Illustration: Book Cover]
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
[Illustration: Marcia turned to stare out of the window at the house
opposite]
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
BY
AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
Author of "The Sapphire Signet," "The
Boarded-Up House," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
C. M. RELYEA
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
Copyright, 1917, by
THE CENTURY CO.
TO
HOA-SIAN-SIN-NIU
(Margaret Gillespie Fagg)
AND TO THE MEMORY OF
HOA-SIAN-SIN
(John Gerardus Fagg, D.D.)
THIS BOOK IS
AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I MARCIA'S SECRET 3
II THE FACE BEHIND THE SHUTTER 20
III THE GATE OPENS 32
IV THE BACKWARD GLANCE 43
V THE HANDKERCHIEF IN THE WINDOW 54
VI CECILY REVEALS HERSELF 62
VII SURPRISES ALL AROUND 72
VIII AT THE END OF THE STRING 81
IX FOR THE SAKE OF CECILY 94
X THE FILIGREE BRACELET 111
XI THE LIFTED VEIL 119
XII MISS BENEDICT SPEAKS 129
XIII VIA WIRELESS 141
XIV THE WRITING ON THE BRACELETS 149
XV PUZZLING IT OUT 160
XVI ONE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 170
XVII MAJOR GOODRICH ASSISTS 183
XVIII THE MAJOR HAS A FURTHER INSPIRATION 192
XIX THE UNEXPECTED 206
XX AUNT MINERVA TAKES COMMAND 227
XXI SIX MONTHS LATER 251
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Marcia turned to stare out of the window at the house
opposite _Frontispiece_
Cecily Marlowe passed them by without a look 49
They heard Cecily's light footsteps 83
"I'm going to ask Miss Benedict if we can't open these
shutters," cried Janet, suddenly 105
In the sudden light of the open door she stood revealed 125
"Words on two bracelets are identical," replied Lee Ching,
precisely 157
"Child, I suppose you wonder very much at this queer life
I lead" 171
"Sydney must have come in again; I hear him practising!" 257
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
CHAPTER I
MARCIA'S SECRET
"Marcia Brett, do you mean to tell me--"
"Tell you--what?"
"That you've had a secret two whole months and never told me about it
yet? And I'm your _best_ friend!"
"I was waiting till you came to the city, Janet. I wanted to _tell_ you;
I didn't want to _write | 284.200428 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.4800400 | 7,435 | 10 |
Produced by Larry Harrison, Cindy Beyer and the online
Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net with images provided by The
Internet Archives-US
P R E H I S T O R I C M A N
[Illustration]
[Illustration: KASKATACHYUH.
A CHIMPSEYAN CHIEF.
Drawn by D. Wilson LL.D. from sketches by Paul Kane.
Cooper & Hodson Lith. 188, Strand, London, W.C.]
P R E H I S T O R I C M A N
Researches into the Origin of Civilisation
in the Old and the New World.
BY
DANIEL WILSON, LL.D., F.R.S.E.
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY & ENGLISH LITERATURE IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, TORONTO;
AUTHOR OF THE ‘PREHISTORIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND,’ ETC.
THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED,
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON:
M A C M I L L A N A N D C O.
1876.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
Edinburgh University Press:
THOMAS AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY.
IN FOND MEMORIAL
OF A BROTHER’S LIFE-LONG SYMPATHY
IN MANY FAVOURITE RESEARCHES
THESE VOLUMES
DEPRIVED BY DEATH OF THEIR PURPOSED DEDICATION
ARE INSCRIBED WITH THE LOVED NAME OF
GEORGE WILSON, M.D. F.R.S.E.
LATE REGIUS PROFESSOR OF TECHNOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH
AND DIRECTOR OF THE INDUSTRIAL MUSEUM OF SCOTLAND.
P R E F A C E.
THE subject primarily treated of in the following pages is the man of
that new hemisphere which was revealed to Europe in 1492. There through
all historic centuries he had lived apart, absolutely uninfluenced by
any reflex of the civilisation of the Ancient World; and yet, as it
appears, pursuing a course in many respects strikingly analogous to that
by means of which the civilisation of Europe originated. The recognition
of this is not only of value as an aid to the realisation of the
necessary conditions through which man passed in reaching the stage at
which he is found at the dawn of history; but it seems to point to the
significant conclusion that civilisation is the development of
capacities inherent in man.
The term used in the title was first employed, in 1851, in my
_Prehistoric Annals of Scotland_, where evidence was adduced in proof of
man’s presence in Britain “long anterior to the earliest indications of
the Aryan nations passing into Europe.” It was purposely coined to
express the whole period disclosed to us by means of archæological
evidence, as distinguished from what is known through written records;
and in this sense the term was speedily adopted by the Archæologists of
Europe. But the subject thus defined is a comprehensive one; and in its
rapid growth, distinctive subdivisions have been introduced which tend
to narrow the application of the term. Nevertheless it is still a
legitimate definition of man, wherever his history is recoverable solely
by means of primitive arts.
The first edition of _Prehistoric Man_, published in 1862, was followed
in 1865 by another, carefully revised in accordance with later
disclosures. Since then I have availed myself of further opportunities
for study and research in reference both to existing races, and to the
arts and monumental remains of extinct nations of the New World. Within
the same period important additions have been contributed to our
knowledge not only of the arts, but of the physical characteristics of
primeval man in Europe. In the present edition, accordingly, much of the
original work has been rewritten. Several chapters have been replaced by
new matter. Others have been condensed, or recast, with considerable
modifications and a new arrangement of the whole.
The illustrations have been correspondingly augmented; and some of them
engraved anew from more accurate drawings. In the first edition they
numbered seventy-one. They now amount to one hundred and thirty-four,
including several for which I am indebted to the courtesy of Mr. John
Evans, F.R.S., to the publishers of _Nature_, and to the Council of the
Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.
D. W.
UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, TORONTO,
_18th November 1875_.
C O N T E N T S
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
The Influence of the Discovery of America—The Old World and the
New—American Phases of Life—The Term Prehistoric—Influence of
Migrations—What is Civilisation?—Domestication—Indian
Philosophy—Aborigines—The Tartar; The Arab—Languages of
America—Wanderings of the Nations—Fossil Man—Occupation of the
New World, 1
CHAPTER II.
THE PRIMEVAL TRANSITION.
The Latest Migrations—Founding a Capital—Beginnings of
History—Prehistoric Phases—Non-Metallurgic Eras—Oscillations of
the Land—The Glacial Period—Conditions of Climate—Fossil
Mammalia—The Flint-Folk of the Drift—Advent of European Man—The
Drift Implements—Scottish Alluvium—Preceltic Races—Their
Imitative Arts—Man Primeval—His Intellectual
Condition—Instinct—Accumulated Knowledge—Primeval Britain—Its
Fossil Fauna—Ossiferous Caves—Brixham Cave—Food—Scottish
Reindeer—American Drift—Relics of Ancient Life—Extinct
Fauna—Man and the Mastodon—Indian Traditions—Giants—Drift
Disclosures—Large Ovoid Discs—Cave Disclosures—American Cranial
Type—Antiquity of the American Man, 17
CHAPTER III.
THE QUARRY.
The Quarry—Brixham Cave—Brixham Flint Implement—Flint Ridge,
Ohio—Flint Pits—Drift Quarry Deposits—Traces of Palæolithic
Art—Lanceolate Flints—Almond-shaped Flints—The Shawnees—The
Colorado Indians—Caches of Worked Flints—Sepulchral
Deposits—Cave Drift Disclosures—Illustrative
Analogies—Cincinnati Collections—Hornstone Spear-heads—American
Neolithic Art—Flint Drills—Modes of
Perforation—Flint-Knives—Razors and Scrapers—Arrow-head
Forms—Discoidal Stones—Sinkers and Lasso Stones—Cupped
Stones—Archæological Theories—Georgia Boulders—Hand
Cup-stones—Neolithic Grindstones—Archæological Enigmas—Ancient
Analogies, 64
CHAPTER IV.
BONE AND SHELL WORKERS.
Bone and Ivory Workers—Substitutes for Flint—Proofs of Relative
Age—Domestic Bone Implements—Rude Palæolithic Art—Whalebone
Workers—Primitive Working Tools—Fish-spears and
Harpoons—Artistic Ingenuity—Drawing of the Mammoth—The
Madelaine Etchings—Righthanded Workers—Deer-horn Quarry
Picks—Bonebracer or Guard—Birthtime of the Fine Arts—Innuit
Carvers of Alaska—Troglodytes of Central France—Post-Glacial
Man—Symmetrical Head-Form—Intellectual Vigour—Evidence of
Latent Powers—Tawatin Ivory Carving—Lake-Dwellers’
Implements—Cave Implements—Arts of the Pacific Islanders—Carib
Shell-Knives—Aborigines of the Antilles—Caribs of St.
Domingo—Cave Pictures and Carvings—Prized Tropical
Shells—Ancient Graves of Tennessee—Shell Manufactures—Huron and
Petun Graves—Sacred Shell-Vessels—Primitive Shell
Ornaments—American Shell Mounds—A Shell Currency—Ioqua Standard
of Value, 96
CHAPTER V.
FIRE.
The Fire-using Animal—Esquimaux use of Fire—Fuegian
Fire-making—Modes of producing Fire—Australian Fire-myth—Men of
the Mammoth Age—Hearths of the Cave-Men—Pacific Root-Word for
Fire—Great Cycle of the Aztecs—Rekindling the Sacred
Fire—Peruvian Sun-Worshippers—Sacrifice of the White Dog—Sacred
Fires of the Mound-Builders—Indian Fire-making—Sanctity of
Fire—Tierra del Fuego, 135
CHAPTER VI.
THE CANOE.
The use of Tools—Tool-using Instinct—Rudimentary stage of
Art—Primitive River-Craft—The Guanahanè Canoe—Ocean
Navigation—African Canoe-making—Oregon Cedar Canoes—Native
Whalers of the Pacific—Prehistoric Boat-Builders—Mawai’s
Canoes—The Polynesian Archipelago—The Terra Australis
Incognita—Canoe-Fleets of the Pacific—Primitive
Navigation—Portable Boats—The Coracle and Kaiak—The Peruvian
Balsa—Ocean Navigators, 151
CHAPTER VII.
TOOLS.
Man the Artificer—The Law of Reason—Indigenous Races—Man’s
Capacity for Deterioration—What is a Stone Period?—Materials of
Primitive Art—Succession of Races—Indications of Ancient
Trade—The Shoshone Indian—Texas Implements—Modes of
Hafting—Deer’s-horn Sockets—Stone Knives—Thlinkets of
Alaska—Metals of a Stone Period—Arts of the South
Pacific—Malayan Influence—Fijian Constructive Skill—Fijian
Pottery—Slow Maturity of Races—The Flint-edged Sword—The League
of the Five Nations—Iroquois Predominance—Work in Obsidian and
Flint—Honduras Flint Implements—Sources of the
Material—Collision of Races—Fate of Inferior Races, 170
CHAPTER VIII.
THE METALS.
Dawn of a Metallurgic Era—Primitive Copper-Working—Copper Region
of Lake Superior—The Pictured Rocks—Jackson Iron Mountain—The
Cliff Mine—Copper Tools—Ancient Mining Trenches—Great extent of
Works—Mines of Isle Royale—Their estimated Age—Ancient Mining
Implements—Stone Mauls and Axes—Ontonagon Mining Relics—Sites
of Copper Manufactories—Native Copper and Silver—Brockville
Copper Implements—Lost Metallurgic Arts—Chemical
Analyses—Native Terra-Cottas—Ancient British Mining Tools—The
Race of the Copper Mines—Chippewa Superstitions—Earliest
notices of the Copper Region—Ontonagon Mass of Copper—Ancient
Native Traffic—Native use of Metals—Condition of the
Mound-Builders—Mineral Resources—Antiquity of Copper
Workings—Desertion of the Mines, 198
CHAPTER IX.
ALLOYS.
The Age of Bronze—An intermediate Copper Age—European Copper
Implements—Native Silver and Copper—Tin and Copper Ores—The
Cassiterides—Ancient Sources of Tin—Arts of Yucatan—Alloyed
Copper Axe-Blades—Bronze Silver-Mining Tool—Peruvian
Bronzes—Primitive Mining Tools—Native Metallurgic
Processes—Metallic Treasures of the Incas—Traces of an Older
Race—Peruvian History—The Toltecs and Mexicans—Adjustment of
Calendar—Barbarian Excesses—Native Goldsmith’s Work—Panama Gold
Relics—Mexican Metallic Currency—Experimental Processes—Ancient
European Bronzes—Tests of Civilisation—Ancient American
Bronzes—The Native Metallurgist, 229
CHAPTER X.
THE MOUND-BUILDERS.
Earth Pyramids—Monuments of the Mound-Builders—Seats of Ancient
Population—Different Classes of Works—Ancient
Strongholds—Natural Sites—Fort Hill, Ohio—Iroquois
Strongholds—Analogous Strongholds—Fortified Civic Sites—Sacred
Enclosures—Newark Eagle Mound—Geometrical Earthworks—Plan of
Newark Earthworks, Ohio—A Standard of Measurement—Diversity of
Works—Evidence of Skill—The Cincinnati Tablet—Scales of
Measurement—Traces of Extinct Rites, 256
CHAPTER XI.
SEPULCHRAL MOUNDS.
Sources of Information—Hill Mounds—The Scioto Mound—The Taylor
Mound—The Issaquina Mound—The Elliot Mound—The Lockport
Mound—Black Bird’s Grave—Scioto Valley Mounds—Symbolical
Rites—Human Sacrifices—The Grave Creek Mound—Common
Sepulchres—Cremation—Scioto Mound Cranium—Sacred Festivals, 277
CHAPTER XII.
SACRIFICIAL MOUNDS.
Mound Altars—Altar Deposits—Quenching the Altar Fires—Mound
Hearths—Mound City—Military Altar Mounds—Their Structure and
Contents—Significance of their Deposits—Analogous Indian
Rites—Transitional Civilisation, 293
CHAPTER XIII.
SYMBOLIC MOUNDS.
The Wisconsin Region—Animal Mounds—Symbolic Mounds—Big Elephant
Mound—Dade County Mounds—Magnitude of Earthworks—Enclosed Works
of Art—Rock River Works—The Northern Aztalan—Ancient Garden
Beds—The Wisconsin Plains—A Sacred Neutral Land—The Alligator
Mound—The Great Serpent, Ohio—Serpent Symbols—Intaglio
Earthworks—Suggestive Inferences—The Ancient Race—A Sacerdotal
Caste—Antiquity of the Race—Inferiority of the Indian Tribes, 303
CHAPTER XIV.
NATIVE AMERICAN CIVILISATION.
The Toltecs—Ixtlilxochitl—The Aztecs—American
Architecture—Aztalan—The Valley of Mexico—Montezuma’s
Capital—Its Vanished Splendour—Mexican Calendar—The Calendar
Stone—Mexican Deities—Toltec Civilisation—Race Elements—The
Toltec Capital—Tezcucan Palaces—Their Modern
Vestiges—Quetzalcoatl—The Pyramid of Cholula—The Sacred
City—The Moqui Indians—The Holy City of Peru—Worship of the
Sun—Astronomical Knowledge—Agriculture—The Llama—Woven
Textures—Science and Art—Native Institutions—Metallurgy—Origin
of the Mexicans—Mingling of Races, 324
CHAPTER XV.
ART CHRONICLINGS.
Imitative Skill—Archaic European Art—Conventional
Ornamentation—Imitative Design—Analogies in Rites and
Customs—Altar Records—Smelting the Ores—Wisconsin Prairie
Lands—The Race of the Mounds—Mound Carvings—Portrait
Sculptures—American Iconography—Deductions—Non-Indian
Type—Other Examples—Antique Iconographic Art—Peculiar Imitative
Skill—Animals represented—Extensive Geographical
Relations—Knowledge of Tropical Fauna—Deductions—The Toucan and
Manatee—Traces of Migration—Assumed Indications—Analogous
Sculptures—Peruvian Imitative Skill—Carved Stone
Mortars—Nicotian Religious Rites—Indian Legends—The Red
Pipe-stone Quarry—The Leaping Rock—Mandan Traditions—Sioux
Legend of the Peace Pipe—The Sacred Coca Plant—Knisteneaux
Legend of the Deluge—Indications of Former Migrations—Favourite
Material—Pwahguneka—Chimpseyan Customs—Chimpseyan Art—Babcen
Carving—The Medicine Pipe-stem—Indian Expiatory
Sacrifices—Nicotian Rites of Divination, 355
I L L U S T R A T I O N S
FIG.
Portrait of Kaskatachyuh, A CHIMPSEYAH CHIEF.
1. Flint-Knife, Grinell Leads,
2. Lewiston Flint Implement,
3. Flint Disc, Kent’s Cavern,
4. Brixham Cave Flint Implement,
5. Lanceolate Flint, Flint Ridge, Ohio,
6. Almond-shaped Flint, Flint Ridge, Ohio,
7. Leaf-shaped Flint, Sharon Valley, Ohio,
8. Flint Implement, Licking County, Ohio,
9. Flint Hoe, Kentucky,
10. Flint Spear-head, Indiana,
11. Flint Awl, Mayville, Kentucky,
12. Flint Drill, Cincinnati,
13. Stone Drill, Cincinnati,
14. Flint-Knife, Cincinnati,
15. Flint Razor, Kentucky,
16. 17.Flint Scrapers, Ohio,
18. Foliated Arrow-head,
19. Lasso Stone, Kentucky,
20. Cupped-stone, Ohio,
21. Cupped Boulder, Tronton, Ohio,
22. Bone Spatula, Keiss,
23. Bone Comb, Burghar,
24. Bone Comb, Burghar,
25. Whale’s Vertebra Cup,
26. to 30. Fish-spears and Harpoons,
31. Harpoon, Kent’s Cavern,
32. Bone Spear-head, Dordogne Caves,
33. Fuegian Harpoon,
34. Fish-spear, Kent’s Cavern,
35. Fish-spear with bilateral barbs, La Madelaine,
36. Fish-spear with unilateral barbs, La Madelaine,
37. Carved Baton, or Mace, Dordogne Caves,
38. The Mammoth, engraved on ivory, La Madelaine,
39. Scottish Stone Bracer,
40. Hunter’s Tally, Deer’s-horn, Cro-Magnon,
41. Skull of Old Man of Cro-Magnon—Profile,
42. Skull of Old Man of Cro-Magnon—Front View,
43. Skull of Old Man of Cro-Magnon—Vertical View,
44. Tawatin Ivory Carving of Whale,
45. Tawatin Ivory Carving,
46. Hog’s Tooth Chisel, Concise,
47. British Bone Implements,
48. Carib Shell-Knives,
49. Tennessee Idol,
50. Clyde Stone Axe,
51. Clalam Stone Adze,
52. Grangemouth Skull,
53. Texas Stone Axe, hafted,
54. Texas Flint Implement,
55. Chisel and deer’s-horn socket, Concise,
56. Stone Knife, Concise,
57. South Pacific Stone Implements,
58. Stone Adze, New Caledonia,
59. Fijian Pottery,
60. Honduras serrated Flint Implement,
61. Honduras State Halberd, flint,
62. Honduras Flint Implement,
63. Miners’ Shovels, Lake Superior,
64. Miners’ Stone Mauls,
65. Ontonagon Copper Implement,
66. 67. Brockville Copper Dagger and Gouge,
68. Brockville Copper Spear,
69. Terra-cotta Mask,
70. Newark Earthworks, Ohio,
71. Cincinnati Tablet,
72. Stone Pipe, Elliot Mound, Ohio,
73. Lake Washington Disk,
74. Mask, Mexican Calendar Stone,
75. Ticul Hieroglyphic Vase,
76. Peruvian Web,
77. Portrait Mound Pipe, full face,
78. Portrait Mound Pipe, profile,
79. Portrait Mound Pipe,
80. Manatee, Pipe-Sculpture,
81. Toucan, Pipe-Sculpture,
82. Peruvian Black Ware,
83. Peruvian Stone Mortars,
84. Chippewa Pipe,
85. Babeen Pipe,
86. Babeen Pipe-Sculpture.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
THE INFLUENCE OF THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA—THE OLD WORLD AND THE
NEW—AMERICAN PHASES OF LIFE—THE TERM PREHISTORIC—INFLUENCE OF
MIGRATIONS—WHAT IS CIVILISATION?—DOMESTICATION—INDIAN
PHILOSOPHY—ABORIGINES—THE TARTAR—THE ARAB—LANGUAGES OF
AMERICA—WANDERINGS OF THE NATIONS—FOSSIL MAN—OCCUPATION OF
THE NEW WORLD.
The recent development of archæology as a science is due in no slight
degree to the simplicity which characterises the prehistoric disclosures
of Scandinavia, Ireland, and other regions of Europe lying beyond the
range of Greek and Roman influence. But the same element presents itself
on a far more comprehensive scale alike in the archæology and the
ethnology of the western hemisphere. America may be assumed with little
hesitation to have begun its human period subsequent to that of the old
world, and to have started later in the race of civilisation. At any
rate it admits of no question that its most civilised nations had made a
very partial advancement when, in the fifteenth century, they were
abruptly brought into contact with the matured civilisation of Europe.
Hence the earlier stages of human progress can be tested there freed
from many obscuring elements inevitable from the intermingling of
essentially diverse phases of civilisation on old historic areas. In the
days of Herodotus, Transalpine Europe was a greater mystery to the
nations on the shores of the Mediterranean than Central Africa is to us.
To the Romans of four centuries later, Britain was still almost another
world; and the great northern hive from whence the spoilers of the
dismembered empire of the Cæsars were speedily to emerge, was so
entirely unknown to them, that, as Dr. Arnold remarks, “The Roman
colonies along the banks of the Rhine and the Danube looked out on the
country beyond those rivers as we look up at the stars, and actually see
with our eyes a world of which we know nothing.” Nevertheless, the
civilisation of the historic centres around the Mediterranean was not
without some influence on the germs of modern nations then nursing the
hardihood of a vigorous infancy beyond the Danube and the Baltic. The
shores of the Atlantic and German oceans, and the islands of the British
seas, had long before yielded tribute to the Phœnician mariner; and as
the archæologist and the ethnologist pursue their researches, and
restore to light memorials of Europe’s early youth, they are startled
with affinities to the ancient historic nations, in language, arts, and
rites, no less than by the recovered traces of an unfamiliar past.
But it is altogether different with the New World which Columbus
revealed. Superficial students of its monuments have indeed
misinterpreted characteristics pertaining to the infantile instincts
common to human thought, into fancied analogies with the arts of Egypt;
and more than one ingenious philosopher has traced out affinities with
the mythology and astronomical science of the ancient East; but the
western continent still stands a world apart, with a peculiar people,
and with languages, arts, and customs essentially its own. To whatever
source the American nations may be traced, they had remained shut in for
unnumbered centuries by ocean barriers from all the influences of the
historic hemisphere. Yet there the first European explorers found man so
little dissimilar to all with which they were already familiar, that the
name of Indian originated in the belief, retained by the great
cosmographer to the last, that the American continent was no new world,
but only the eastern confines of Asia.
Such, then, is a continent where man may be studied under circumstances
which seem to furnish the best guarantee of his independent development.
No reflex light of Grecian or Roman civilisation has guided him on his
way. The great sources of religious and moral suasion which have given
form to medieval and modern Europe, and so largely influenced the polity
and culture of Asia, and even of Africa, were effectually excluded; and
however prolonged the period of occupation of the western hemisphere by
its own American nations may have been, man is still seen there in a
condition which seems to reproduce some of the most familiar phases
ascribed to the infancy of the unhistoric world. The records of its
childhood are not obscured, as in Europe, by later chroniclings; where,
in every attempt to decipher the traces of an earlier history, we have
to spell out a nearly obliterated palimpsest. Amid the simplicity of its
palæography, the aphorism, by which alone the Roman could claim to be
among the world’s ancient races acquires a new force: “antiquitas
seculi, juventus mundi.”
The discovery of America was itself one of the great events in the most
memorable era of the world’s progress. It wrought a marvellous change in
the ideas and opinions of mankind relative to the planet they occupy,
and prepared the way for many subsequent revolutions in thought, as well
as in action. The world as the arena of human history was thenceforth
divided into the Old and the New. In the one hemisphere tradition and
myth reach backward towards a dawn of undefined antiquity; in the other,
history has a definite and altogether modern beginning. Nevertheless no
great research is needed to show that it also has been the theatre of
human life, and of many revolutions of nations, through centuries
reaching back towards an antiquity as vague as that which lies behind
Europe’s historic dawn; and the study alike of the prehistoric and the
unhistoric races of America is replete with promise of novel truths in
reference to primeval man. Some of the oldest problems in relation to
him find their solution there; and, amid the novel inquiries which now
perplex the student of science, answers of unexpected value are rendered
from the same source.
The study of man’s condition and progress in Europe’s prehistoric
centuries reveals him as a savage hunter, armed solely with weapons of
flint and bone, frequenting the lake and river margins of a continent
clothed in primeval forests and haunted by enormous beasts of prey.
Displaced by intrusive migrations, this rude pioneer disappears, and his
traces are overlaid or erased by the improved arts of his supplanters.
The infancy of the historic nations begins. Metallurgy, architecture,
science, and letters follow, effacing the faint records of Europe’s
nomadic pioneers; and the first traces of late intruders acquire so
primitive an aspect, that the existence of older European nations than
the Celtæ seemed till recently too extravagant an idea for serious
consideration.
After devoting considerable research to the recovery of the traces of
early arts in Britain, and realising from many primitive disclosures
some clear conception of the barbarian of Europe’s prehistoric dawn, it
has been my fortune to become a settler on the American continent, in
the midst of scenes where the primeval forests and their savage
occupants are in process of displacement by the arts and races of
civilised Europe. Peculiarly favourable opportunities have helped to
facilitate the study of this phase of the New World, thus seen in one of
its great transitional eras: with its native tribes, and its European
and African colonists in various stages of mutation, consequent on
migration, intermixture, or collision. In observing the novel aspects of
life resulting from such a condition of things, I have been impressed
with the conviction that many of the ethnological phenomena of Europe’s
prehistoric centuries are here reproduced on the grandest scale. Man is
seen subject to influences similar to those which have affected him in
all great migrations and collisions of diverse races. Here also is the
savage in direct contact with civilisation, and exposed to the same
causes by means of which the wild fauna disappear. Some difficult
problems of ethnology have been simplified to my own mind; and opinions
relative to Europe’s prehistoric races, based on inference or induction,
have received striking confirmation. Encouraged by this experience, I
venture to set forth the results of an inquiry into the essential
characteristics of man, based chiefly on a comparison of the theoretical
ethnology of primitive Europe, with such disclosures of the New World.
Man may be assumed to be prehistoric wherever his chroniclings of
himself are undesigned, and his history is wholly recoverable by
induction. The term has, strictly speaking, no chronological
significance; but, in its relative application, corresponds to other
archæological, in contradistinction to geological, periods. There are
modern as well as ancient prehistoric races; and both are available for
solving the problem of man’s true natural condition. But also the
relation of man to external nature as the occupant of specific
geographical areas, and subject to certain influences of climate, food,
material appliances and conditions of life, involves conclusions of
growing importance, in view of many novel questions to which the
enlarged inquiry as to his true place in nature has given rise. If races
of men are indigenous to specific areas, and controlled by the same laws
which seem to regulate the geographical distribution of the animal
kingdom, the results of their infringement of such laws have been
subjected to the most comprehensive tests since the discovery of
America. The horse transported to the New World roams in magnificent
herds over the boundless pampas; and the hog, restored to a state of
nature, has exchanged the degradation of the stye for the fierce courage
of the wild boar. There also the indigenous man of the prairie and the
forest can still be seen unaffected by native or intruded civilisation;
while the most civilised races of Europe have been brought into contact
with the African savage; and both have been subjected to all the novel
influences in which the western continent contrasts no less strikingly
with the temperate than with the tropical regions of the eastern
hemisphere. The resultant changes have been great, and the scale on
which they have been wrought out is so ample as to stamp whatever
conclusions can be legitimately deduced from them with the highest
interest and value.
The consequences following from changes of area and climate play a
remarkable part in the history of man, and have no analogies in the
migrations of the lower animals. The Frank, the Anglo-Saxon, and the
Norman; the Hungarian, the Saracen, and the Turk: are all to a great
extent products of the transplanting of seemingly indigenous races to
more favouring localities; but the change to all of them was less than
that to which the colonists of the New World have been subjected. There
the old process was reversed; and the offspring of Europe’s highest
civilisation, abruptly transferred to the virgin forest and steppes of
the American wilderness, was left amid the widening inheritance of new
clearings to develop whatever tendencies lay dormant in the artificial
European man.
Here then are materials full of promise for the ethnical student:—the
Red-Man, indigenous, seemingly aboriginal, and still in what it is
customary to call a state of nature; the <DW64>, with many African
attributes uneffaced, systematically precluded until very recent years
from the free reception of the civilisation with which he has been
brought in contact, but subjected nevertheless to novel influences of
climate, food, and all external appliances; the White-Man also
undergoing the transforming effects of climate, amid novel social and
political institutions; and all three extreme types of variety or race
testing, on a sufficiently comprehensive scale, their capacity for a
fertile intermingling of blood. The period, moreover, is in some
respects favourable for summing up results, as changes are at work which
mark the close of a cycle in the novel conditions to which one at least
of the intruded races has been subjected for upwards of three centuries.
In Europe we study man only as he has been moulded by a thousand
external circumstances. The arts, born at the very dawn of history, give
form to its modern social life. The faith and morals nurtured among the
hills of Judah, the intellect of Greece, the jurisprudence and military
prowess of Rome, and the civil and ecclesiastical institutions of
medieval Christendom, have all helped to make of us what we are: till in
the European of the nineteenth century it becomes a curious question how
much pertains to the man, and how much to that civilisation, of which | 284.50008 |
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Produced by Bryan Ness, Steven Calwas and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from scanned images of public domain
material from the Google Print project.)
SELECTED WORKS
OF
VOLTAIRINE DE CLEYRE
Edited by
ALEXANDER BERKMAN
Biographical Sketch by
HIPPOLYTE HAVEL
NEW YORK
MOTHER EARTH PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION
1914
Set up and electrotyped.
Published May, 1914.
CONTENTS
Poems
Page
The Burial of My Past Self...... 17
Night on the Graves ......... 18
The Christian's Faith ........ 18
The Freethinker's Plea........ 22
To My Mother............. 26
Betrayed. | 284.60486 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.6777110 | 4,749 | 39 | KNOW***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Jeannie Howse, 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 35994-h.htm or 35994-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35994/35994-h/35994-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35994/35994-h.zip)
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |
| been preserved. |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: I bring you the best help that ever Knight or City
had For it is God's help not sent for love of me but by God's
good pleasure]
HEROINES THAT EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW
Tales for Young People of the World's Heroines of All Ages
CO-EDITED BY
HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE
AND KATE STEPHENS
DECORATED BY
BLANCHE OSTERTAG
[Illustration]
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1908
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES
INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The editors and publishers wish to acknowledge the courtesy of authors
and publishers named below, for the use of certain material in this
volume: To Mrs. Elizabeth E. Seelye for material adapted for
Pocahontas, from her volume entitled "Pocahontas" (copyrighted, 1879,
by Dodd, Mead & Company); to Messrs. Harper and Brothers and to the
Estate of Mr. John S.C. Abbott for material adapted for Madame Roland;
to Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company for material adapted for Alcestis,
Antigone and Iphigenia; to Messrs. E.P. Dutton & Company for material
adapted for Lady Jane Grey; to the Macmillan Company for certain
material in Paula; to Messrs. Hutchinson & Company, London, for
material adapted for Sister Dora.
INTRODUCTION
The Book of Heroes should never be separated from the Book of
Heroines; they are the two parts of that story of courage, service and
achievement which is the most interesting and inspiring chapter in the
history of human kind in this wonderful world of ours. Whenever and
wherever there has appeared a hero, a heroine has almost always worked
with or for him; for heroic and noble deeds are rarely done without
some kind of cooperation. Now and then, it is true, single acts of
daring stand out alone; but, as a rule, the hero gains his end because
other men or women stand beside him in times of great peril. William
the Silent could not have made his heroic defence of the Low Countries
against the armies of Spain if men of heroic temper and women of
indomitable courage had not been about him in those terrible years;
Washington could not have converted a body of farmers into an
organized and disciplined army if he had not been aided by the skill
of drill masters like Steuben; nor could Lieutenant Peary make
brilliant dashes for the North Pole if other men did not join him in
his perilous expeditions. The hero is generally a leader of heroes, as
a great general is a leader of soldiers who carry out his plans in
hourly jeopardy of limb and life.
It is a mistake to think of heroes as rare and exceptional men; the
world is full of those who take their lives in their hands every day
and think nothing about it; or, if they think of it at all, think of
it, as Mr. Kipling would say, as part of the day's work. It is almost
impossible to open a daily newspaper without coming upon some story of
daring by some obscure man or woman. The record of a fire department
is usually a continuous register of the brave deeds done by those who
receive very small pay for a very dangerous service to their fellows.
It is not necessary to go back to the days of chivalry or to open the
histories of great wars to find a hero; he lives in every street,
works in every profession and never thinks that he is doing anything
unusual or impressive. There are many stories of heroic deeds and men,
but these are as nothing compared with the unwritten stories of brave
and chivalrous people whose lives are full of courage, self-denial and
sacrifice, but of whom no public reports are ever made.
It has taken three centuries to explore and settle this country, and
there are still parts of it in which those who live face the perils
and hardships of pioneers. Ever since the war of the Revolution the
skirmish line of civilisation has moved steadily forward from the
Atlantic to the Pacific; and every man who has carried a rifle or an
axe, who has defended his home against Indians or cut down trees, made
a clearing, built a rude house and turned the prairie or the land
taken from the forest into a farm, has had something of the hero in
him. He has often been selfish, harsh and unjust; but he has been
daring, full of endurance and with a capacity for heroic work; But he
has never been alone; we see him always as he faces his foes or bears
the strain of his work: we often forget that there was as much courage
in the log house as on the firing line at the edge of the forest, and
that the work indoors was harder in many ways than the work out of
doors and far less varied and inspiriting. If we could get at the
facts we should find that there have been more heroines than heroes in
the long warfare of the race against foes within and without, and that
the courage of women has had far less to stimulate it in dramatic or
picturesque conditions or crises. It is much easier to make a perilous
charge in full daylight, with flying banners and the music of bugles
ringing across the field, than to hold a lonely post, in solitude at
midnight, against a stealthy and unseen enemy.
Boys do not need to be taught to admire the bold rush on the enemies'
position, the brilliant and audacious passage through the narrow
channel under the guns of masked batteries, the lonely march into
Central Africa, the dash to the North Pole; they do need to be taught
the heroism of those who give the hero his sword and then go home
to wait for his return; who leave the stockade unarmed and, under a
fire of poisoned arrows, run to the springs for water for a thirsting
garrison; who quietly stay at their posts and as quietly die
without the inspiration of dramatic achievement or of the heart-felt
applause of spectators; who bear heavy burdens without a chance to
drop or change them; who are heroically patient under blighting
disappointments and are loyal to those who are disloyal to them; who
bear terrible wrongs in silence, and conceal the cowardice of those
they love and cover their retreat with a smiling courage which is the
very soul of the pathos of unavailing heroism and undeserved failure.
From the days of Esther, Judith and Antigone to those of Florence
Nightingale, women have shown every kind of courage that men have
shown, faced every kind of peril that men have braved, divided with
men the dangers and hardships of heroism but have never had an equal
share of recognition and applause. So far as they are concerned this
lack of equal public reward has been of small consequence; the best of
them have not only not cared for it, but have shunned it. It is well
to remember that the noblest heroes have never sought applause; and
that popularity is much more dangerous to heroes than the foes they
faced or the savage conditions they mastered in the splendid hour of
daring achievement. Many heroes have been betrayed by popularity into
vanity and folly and have lost at home the glory they won abroad.
Heroic women have not cared for public recognition and do not need it;
but it is of immense importance to society that the ideals of heroism
should be high and true, and that the soldier and the explorer should
not be placed above those whose achievements have been less dramatic,
but of a finer quality. The women who have shown heroic courage,
heroic patience, heroic purity and heroic devotion outrank the men
whose deeds have had their inspiration in physical bravery, who have
led splendid charges in full view of the world, who have achieved
miracles of material construction in canal or railroad, or the
reclaiming of barbarous lands to the uses of civilization. In a true
scale of heroic living and doing women must be counted more heroic
than men.
A writer of varied and brilliant talent and of a generous and gallant
spirit was asked at a dinner table, one evening not many years ago,
why no women appeared in his stories. He promptly replied that he
admired pluck above all other qualities, that he was timid by nature
and had won courage at the point of danger, and cared for it as the
most splendid of manly qualities. There happened to be a woman present
who bore the name of one of the most daring men of the time, and who
knew army life intimately. She made no comment and offered no
objection to the implication of the eminent writer's incautious
statement; but presently she began, in a very quiet tone, to describe
the incidents of her experience in army posts and on the march, and
every body listened intently as she went on narrating story after
story of the pluck and indifference to danger of women on the frontier
posts and, in some instances, on the march. The eminent writer
remained silent, but the moment the woman withdrew from the table he
was eager to know who the teller of these stories of heroism was and
how she had happened upon such remarkable experiences; and it was
noted that a woman appeared in his next novel!
The stories in this volume have been collected from many sources in
the endeavour to illustrate the wide range of heroism in the lives of
brave and noble women, and with the hope that these records of
splendid or quiet courage will open the eyes of young readers to the
many forms which heroism wears, and furnish a more spiritual scale of
heroic qualities.
HAMILTON W. MABIE.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ALCESTIS. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 3
II. ANTIGONE. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 18
III. IPHIGENIA. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 33
IV. PAULA. Written and adapted from "The Makers of Modern
Rome," by Mrs. Oliphant, "Martyrs and Saints of the
First Twelve Centuries," by Mrs. E. Rundle Charles,
and other sources 43
V. JOAN OF ARC. Adapted from "Joan of Arc, the Maid,"
by Janet Tuckey 57
VI. CATHERINE DOUGLAS. From the Poetical Works of Dante
Gabriel Rossetti 101
VII. LADY JANE GREY. Adapted from "Child-life and Girlhood
of Remarkable Women," by W.H. Davenport Adams 132
VIII. POCAHONTAS. Adapted from "Pocahontas," by Elizabeth
Eggleston Seelye, assisted by Edward Eggleston 146
IX. FLORA MACDONALD. Adapted from "The Heroines of
Domestic Life," by Mrs. Octavius Freire Owen 174
X. MADAME ROLAND. Adapted from "Madame Roland," by John
S.C. Abbott 190
XI. GRACE DARLING. Written and adapted from various
sources 230
XII. SISTER DORA. Adapted from "Virgin Saints and Martyrs,"
by S. Baring-Gould 241
XIII. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. Written and adapted from various
sources 266
Heroines Every Child Should Know
HEROINES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW
I
ALCESTIS
Asclepius, the son of Apollo, being a mighty physician, raised men
from the dead. But Zeus was wroth that a man should have such power,
and so make of no effect the ordinance of the gods. Wherefore he smote
Asclepius with a thunderbolt and slew him. And when Apollo knew this,
he slew the Cyclopes that had made the thunderbolts for his father
Zeus, for men say that they make them on their forges that are in the
mountain of Etna.
Zeus suffered not this deed to go unpunished, but passed this sentence
on his son Apollo, that he should serve a mortal man for the space of
a whole year. Wherefore, for all that he was a god, he kept the sheep
of Admetus, who was the Prince of Pherae in Thessaly. And Admetus knew
not that he was a god; but, nevertheless, being a just man, dealt
truly with him.
And it came to pass after this that Admetus was sick unto death. But
Apollo gained this grace for him of the Fates (who order of life and
death for men), that he should live, if only he could find some one
who should be willing to die in his stead. And he went to all his
kinsmen and friends and asked this thing of them, but found no one
that was willing so to die; only Alcestis his wife was willing.
And when the day was come on the which it was appointed for her to
die, Death came that he might fetch her. And when he was come, he
found Apollo walking to and for before the palace of King Admetus,
having his bow in his hand. And when Death saw him, he said:
"What doest thou here, Apollo? Is it not enough for thee to have kept
Admetus from his doom? Dost thou keep watch and ward over this woman
with thine arrows and thy bow?"
"Fear not," the god made answer, "I have justice on my side."
"If thou hast justice, what need of thy bow?"
"'Tis my wont to carry it."
"Ay, and it is thy wont to help this house beyond all right and law."
"Nay, but I was troubled at the sorrows of one that I loved, and
helped him."
"I know thy cunning speech and fair ways; but this woman thou shalt
not take from me."
"But consider; thou canst have but one life. Wilt thou not take
another in her stead?"
"Her and no other will I have, for my honour is the greater when I
take the young."
"I know thy temper, hated both of gods and of men. But there cometh a
guest to this house, whom Eurystheus sendeth to the snowy plains of
Thrace, to fetch the horses of Diomed. Haply he shall persuade thee
against thy will."
"Say what thou wilt; it shall avail nothing. And now I go to cut off
a lock of her hair, for I take these first-fruits of them that die."
In the meantime, within the palace, Alcestis prepared herself for
death. And first she washed her body with pure water from the river,
and then she took from her coffer of cedar her fairest apparel, and
adorned herself therewith. Then, being so arranged, she stood before
the hearth and prayed, saying:
"O Queen Here, behold! I depart this day. Do thou therefore keep my
children, giving to this one a noble husband and to that a loving
wife."
And all the altars that were in the house she visited in like manner,
crowning them with myrtle leaves and praying at them. Nor did she weep
at all, or groan, or grow pale. But at the last, when she came to her
chamber, she cast herself upon the bed and kissed it, crying:
"I hate thee not, though I die for thee, giving myself for my husband.
And thee another wife shall possess, not more true than I am, but,
maybe, more fortunate!"
And after she had left the chamber, she turned to it again and again
with many tears.
And all the while her children clung to her garments, and she took
them up in her arms, the one first and then the other, and kissed
them. And all the servants that were in the house bewailed their
mistress, nor did she fail to reach her hand to each of them greeting
him. There was not one of them so vile but she spake to him and was
spoken to again.
After this, when the hour was now come when she must die, she cried to
her husband (for he held her in his arms, as if he would have stayed
her that she should not depart):
"I see the boat of the dead, and Charon standing with his hand upon
the pole, who calleth me, saying, 'Hasten; thou delayest us'; and then
again, 'A winged messenger of the dead looketh at me from under his
dark eyebrows, and would lead me away. Dost thou not see him?'"
Then, after this, she seemed now ready to die, yet again she gathered
strength, and said to the King:
"Listen, and I will tell thee before I die what I would have thee do.
Thou knowest how I have given my life for thy life. For when I might
have lived, and had for my husband any prince of Thessaly that I
would, and dwelt here in wealth and royal state, yet could I not
endure to be widowed of thee and that thy children should be
fatherless. Therefore I spared not myself, though thy father and
mother betrayed thee. But the gods have ordered all this after their
own pleasure. So be it. Do thou therefore make this recompense, which
indeed thou owest to me, for what will not a man give for his life?
Thou lovest these children even as I love them. Suffer them then to be
rulers in this house, and bring not a stepmother over them who shall
hate them and deal with them unkindly. A son, indeed, hath a tower of
strength in his father. But, O my daughter, how shall it fare with
thee, for thy mother will not give thee in marriage, nor be with thee,
comforting thee when a mother most showeth kindness and love. And now
farewell, for I die this day. And thou, too, farewell, my husband.
Thou losest a true wife, and ye, too, my children, a true mother."
Then Admetus made answer:
"Fear not, it shall be as thou wilt. I could not find other wife fair
and well born and true as thou. Never more shall I gather revellers
in my palace, or crown my head with garlands, or hearken to the voice
of music. Never shall I touch the harp or sing to the Libyan flute.
And some cunning craftsman shall make an image fashioned like unto
thee, and this I will hold in my arms and think of thee. Cold comfort
indeed, yet that shall ease somewhat of the burden of my soul. But oh!
that I had the voice and melody of Orpheus, for then had I gone down
to Hell and persuaded the Queen thereof or her husband with my song to
let thee go; nor would the watch-dog of Pluto, nor Charon that
ferrieth the dead, have hindered me but that I had brought thee to the
light. But do thou wait for me there, for there will I dwell with
thee; and when I die they shall lay me by thy side, for never was wife
so true as thou."
Then said Alcestis:
"Take these children as a gift from me, and be as a mother to them."
"O me!" he cried, "what shall I do, being bereaved of thee?"
And she said:
"Time will comfort thee; the dead are as nothing."
But he said:
"Nay, but let me depart with thee."
But the Queen made answer:
"'Tis enough that I die in thy stead."
And when she had thus spoken she gave up the ghost.
Then the King said to the old men that were gathered together to
comfort him:
"I will see to this burial. And do ye sing a hymn as is meet to the
god of the dead. And to all my people I make this decree; that they
mourn for this woman, and clothe themselves in black, and shave their
heads, and that such as have horses cut off their manes, and that
there be not heard in the city the voice of the flute or the sound of
the harp for the space of twelve months."
Then the old men sang the hymn as they had been bidden. And when they
had finished, it befell that Hercules, who was on a journey, came to
the palace and asked whether King Admetus was sojourning there.
And the old men answered:
"'Tis even so, | 284.697751 |
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Produced by Don Lainson and Andrew Sly. HTML version by Al Haines.
An African Millionaire
Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay
By Grant Allen
First published in 1897
CONTENTS
1. The Episode of the Mexican Seer
2. The Episode of the Diamond Links
3. The Episode of the Old Master
4. The Episode of the Tyrolean Castle
5. The Episode of the Drawn Game
6. The Episode of the German Professor
7. The Episode of the Arrest of the Colonel
8. The Episode of the Seldon Gold-Mine
9. The Episode of the Japanned Dispatch-Box
10. The Episode of the Game of Poker
11. The Episode of the Bertillon Method
12. The Episode of the Old Bailey
I
THE EPISODE OF THE MEXICAN SEER
My name is Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. I am brother-in-law and
secretary to Sir Charles Vandrift, the South African millionaire and
famous financier. Many years ago, when Charlie Vandrift was a small
lawyer in Cape Town, I had the (qualified) good fortune to marry his
sister. Much later, when the Vandrift estate and farm near Kimberley
developed by degrees into the Cloetedorp Golcondas, Limited, my
brother-in-law offered me the not unremunerative post of secretary;
in which capacity I have ever since been his constant and attached
companion.
He is not a man whom any common sharper can take in, is Charles
Vandrift. Middle height, square build, firm mouth, keen eyes--the
very picture of a sharp and successful business genius. I have only
known one rogue impose upon Sir Charles, and that one rogue, as the
Commissary of Police at Nice remarked, would doubtless have imposed
upon a syndicate of Vidocq, Robert Houdin, and Cagliostro.
We had run across to the Riviera for a few weeks in the season. Our
object being strictly rest and recreation from the arduous duties
of financial combination, we did not think it necessary to take our
wives out with us. Indeed, Lady Vandrift is absolutely wedded to the
joys of London, and does not appreciate the rural delights of the
Mediterranean littoral. But Sir Charles and I, though immersed in
affairs when at home, both thoroughly enjoy the complete change from
the City to the charming vegetation and pellucid air on the terrace
at Monte Carlo. We _are_ so fond of scenery. That delicious view
over the rocks of Monaco, with the Maritime Alps in the rear, and
the blue sea in front, not to mention the imposing Casino in the
foreground, appeals to me as one of the most beautiful prospects in
all Europe. Sir Charles has a sentimental attachment for the place.
He finds it restores and freshens him, after the turmoil of London,
to win a few hundreds at roulette in the course of an afternoon
among the palms and cactuses and pure breezes of Monte Carlo. The
country, say I, for a jaded intellect! However, we never on any
account actually stop in the Principality itself. Sir Charles thinks
Monte Carlo is not a sound address for a financier's letters. He
prefers a comfortable hotel on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice,
where he recovers health and renovates his nervous system by taking
daily excursions along the coast to the Casino.
This particular season we were snugly ensconced at the Hotel des
Anglais. We had capital quarters on the first floor--salon, study,
and bedrooms--and found on the spot a most agreeable cosmopolitan
society. All Nice, just then, was ringing with talk about a curious
impostor, known to his followers as the Great Mexican Seer, and
supposed to be gifted with second sight, as well as with endless
other supernatural powers. Now, it is a peculiarity of my able
brother-in-law's that, when he meets with a quack, he burns to
expose him; he is so keen a man of business himself that it gives
him, so to speak, a disinterested pleasure to unmask and detect
imposture in others. Many ladies at the hotel, some of whom had met
and conversed with the Mexican Seer, were constantly telling us
strange stories of his doings. He had disclosed to one the present
whereabouts of a runaway husband; he had pointed out to another the
numbers that would win at roulette next evening; he had shown a
third the image on a screen of the man she had for years adored
without his knowledge. Of course, Sir Charles didn't believe a word
of it; but his curiosity was roused; he wished to see and judge for
himself of the wonderful thought-reader.
"What would be his terms, do you think, for a private seance?" he
asked of Madame Picardet, the lady to whom the Seer had successfully
predicted the winning numbers.
"He does not work for money," Madame Picardet answered, "but for
the good of humanity. I'm sure he would gladly come and exhibit for
nothing his miraculous faculties."
"Nonsense!" Sir Charles answered. "The man must live. I'd pay him
five guineas, though, to see him alone. What hotel is he stopping at?"
"The Cosmopolitan, I think," the lady answered. "Oh no; I remember
now, the Westminster."
Sir Charles turned to me quietly. "Look here, Seymour," he
whispered. "Go round to this fellow's place immediately after
dinner, and offer him five pounds to give a private seance at once
in my rooms, without mentioning who I am to him; keep the name quite
quiet. Bring him back with you, too, and come straight upstairs
with him, so that there may be no collusion. We'll see just how much
the fellow can tell us."
I went as directed. I found the Seer a very remarkable and
interesting person. He stood about Sir Charles's own height, but was
slimmer and straighter, with an aquiline nose, strangely piercing
eyes, very large black pupils, and a finely-chiselled close-shaven
face, like the bust of Antinous in our hall in Mayfair. What gave him
his most characteristic touch, however, was his odd head of hair,
curly and wavy like Paderewski's, standing out in a halo round his
high white forehead and his delicate profile. I could see at a
glance why he succeeded so well in impressing women; he had the
look of a poet, a singer, a prophet.
"I have come round," I said, "to ask whether you will consent to
give a seance at once in a friend's rooms; and my principal wishes
me to add that he is prepared to pay five pounds as the price of the
entertainment."
Senor Antonio Herrera--that was what he called himself--bowed to
me with impressive Spanish politeness. His dusky olive cheeks were
wrinkled with a smile of gentle contempt as he answered gravely--
"I do not sell my gifts; I bestow them freely. If your friend--your
anonymous friend--desires to behold the cosmic wonders that are
wrought through my hands, I am glad to show them to him.
Fortunately, as often happens when it is necessary to convince
and confound a sceptic (for that your friend is a sceptic I feel
instinctively), I chance to have no engagements at all this
evening." He ran his hand through his fine, long hair reflectively.
"Yes, I go," he continued, as if addressing some unknown presence
that hovered about the ceiling; "I go; come with me!" Then he put on
his broad sombrero, with its crimson ribbon, wrapped a cloak round
his shoulders, lighted a cigarette, and strode forth by my side
towards the Hotel des Anglais.
He talked little by the way, and that little in curt sentences. He
seemed buried in deep thought; indeed, when we reached the door and
I turned in, he walked a step or two farther on, as if not noticing
to what place I had brought him. Then he drew himself up short, and
gazed around him for a moment. "Ha, the Anglais," he said--and I may
mention in passing that his English, in spite of a slight southern
accent, was idiomatic and excellent. "It is here, then; it is here!"
He was addressing once more the unseen presence.
I smiled to think that these childish devices were intended to
deceive Sir Charles Vandrift. Not quite the sort of man (as the City
of London knows) to be taken in by hocus-pocus. And all this, I saw,
was the cheapest and most commonplace conjurer's patter.
We went upstairs to our rooms. Charles had gathered together a
few friends to watch the performance. The Seer entered, wrapt in
thought. He was in evening dress, but a red sash round his waist
gave a touch of picturesqueness and a dash of colour. He paused for
a moment in the middle of the salon, without letting his eyes rest
on anybody or anything. Then he walked straight up to Charles, and
held out his dark hand.
"Good-evening," he said. "You are the host. My soul's sight tells
me so."
"Good shot," Sir Charles answered. "These fellows have to be
quick-witted, you know, Mrs. Mackenzie, or they'd never get on
at it."
The Seer gazed about him, and smiled blankly at a person or two
whose faces he seemed to recognise from a previous existence. Then
Charles began to ask him a few simple questions, not about himself,
but about me, just to test him. He answered most of them with
surprising correctness. "His name? His name begins with an S I
think:--You call him Seymour." He paused long between each clause, as
if the facts were revealed to him slowly. "Seymour--Wilbraham--Earl
of Strafford. No, not Earl of Strafford! Seymour Wilbraham
Wentworth. There seems to be some connection in somebody's mind now
present between Wentworth and Strafford. I am not English. I do not
know what it means. But they are somehow the same name, Wentworth
and Strafford."
He gazed around, apparently for confirmation. A lady came to his
rescue.
"Wentworth was the surname of the great Earl of Strafford," she
murmured gently; "and I was wondering, as you spoke, whether
Mr. Wentworth might possibly be descended from him."
"He is," the Seer replied instantly, with a flash of those dark
eyes. And I thought this curious; for though my father always
maintained the reality of the relationship, there was one link
wanting to complete the pedigree. He could not make sure that
the Hon. Thomas Wilbraham Wentworth was the father of Jonathan
Wentworth, the Bristol horse-dealer, from whom we are descended.
"Where was I born?" Sir Charles interrupted, coming suddenly to his
own case.
The Seer clapped his two hands to his forehead and held it between
them, as if to prevent it from bursting. "Africa," he said slowly,
as the facts narrowed down, so to speak. "South Africa; Cape of Good
Hope; Jansenville; De Witt Street. 1840."
"By Jove, he's correct," Sir Charles muttered. "He seems really to
do it. Still, he may have found me out. He may have known where he
was coming."
"I never gave a hint," I answered; "till he reached the door, he
didn't even know to what hotel I was piloting him."
The Seer stroked his chin softly. His eye appeared to me to have a
furtive gleam in it. "Would you like me to tell you the number of
a bank-note inclosed in an envelope?" he asked casually.
"Go out of the room," Sir Charles said, "while I pass it round the
company."
Senor Herrera disappeared. Sir Charles passed it round cautiously,
holding it all the time in his own hand, but letting his guests see
the number. Then he placed it in an envelope and gummed it down
firmly.
The Seer returned. His keen eyes swept the company with a
comprehensive glance. He shook his shaggy mane. Then he took
the envelope in his hands and gazed at it fixedly. "AF, 73549,"
he answered, in a slow tone. "A Bank of England note for fifty
pounds--exchanged at the Casino for gold won yesterday at
Monte Carlo."
"I see how he did that," Sir Charles said triumphantly. "He must
have changed it there himself; and then I changed it back again.
In point of fact, I remember seeing a fellow with long hair loafing
about. Still, it's capital conjuring."
"He can see through matter," one of the ladies interposed. It was
Madame Picardet. "He can see through a box." She drew a little gold
vinaigrette, such as our grandmothers used, from her dress-pocket.
"What is in this?" she inquired, holding it up to him.
Senor Herrera gazed through it. "Three gold coins," he replied,
knitting his brows with the effort of seeing into the box: "one,
an American five dollars; one, a French ten-franc piece; one,
twenty marks, German, of the old Emperor William."
She opened the box and passed it round. Sir Charles smiled a quiet
smile.
"Confederacy!" he muttered, half to himself. "Confederacy!"
The Seer turned to him with a sullen air. "You want a better sign?"
he said, in a very impressive voice. "A sign that will convince you!
Very well: you have a letter in your left waistcoat pocket--a
crumpled-up letter. Do you wish me to read it out? I will, if you
desire it."
It may seem to those who know Sir Charles incredible, but, I am
bound to admit, my brother-in-law. What that letter
contained I cannot say; he only answered, very testily and
evasively, "No, thank you; I won't trouble you. The exhibition you
have already given us of your skill in this kind more than amply
suffices." And his fingers strayed nervously to his waistcoat
pocket, as if he was half afraid, even then, Senor Herrera would
read it.
I fancied, too, he glanced somewhat anxiously towards Madame
Picardet.
The Seer bowed courteously. "Your will, senor, is law," he said. "I
make it a principle, though I can see through all things, invariably
to respect the secrecies and sanctities. If it were not so, I might
dissolve society. For which of us is there who could bear the whole
truth being told about him?" He gazed around the room. An unpleasant
thrill supervened. Most of us felt this uncanny Spanish American
knew really too much. And some of us were engaged in financial
operations.
"For example," the Seer continued blandly, "I happened a few weeks
ago to travel down here from Paris by train with a very intelligent
man, a company promoter. He had in his bag some documents--some
confidential documents:" he glanced at Sir Charles. "You know the
kind of thing, my dear sir: reports from experts--from mining
engineers. You may have seen some such; marked _strictly private_."
"They form an element in high finance," Sir Charles admitted coldly.
"Pre-cisely," the Seer murmured, his accent for a moment less
Spanish than before. "And, as they were marked _strictly private_,
I respect, of course, the seal of confidence. That's all I wish to
say. I hold it a duty, being intrusted with such powers, not to use
them in a manner which may annoy or incommode my fellow-creatures."
"Your feeling does you honour," Sir Charles answered, with some
acerbity. Then he whispered in my ear: "Confounded clever scoundrel,
Sey; rather wish we hadn't brought him here."
Senor Herrera seemed intuitively to divine this wish, for he
interposed, in a lighter and gayer tone--
"I will now show you a different and more interesting embodiment
of occult power, for which we | 284.876804 |
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Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN
or Making Good
by
ALBERT W. TOLMAN
Illustrated
[Illustration: [See page 279
HE PLUNGED INTO THE SEA AND DRAGGED HIMSELF TOWARD THE ROCK TO WHICH HIS
FATHER WAS FASTENED]
[Illustration]
Harper & Brothers Publishers
New York and London
JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN
Copyright, 1918, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
TO MY BOYS
ALBERT AND EDWARD
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. SMASHED UP 1
II. A FRESH START 18
III. TARPAULIN ISLAND 29
IV. MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS 41
V. GETTING READY 53
VI. TRAWLING FOR HAKE 66
VII. SHORTS AND COUNTERS 78
VIII. SALT-WATER GIPSIES 90
IX. FISTS AND FIREWORKS 102
X. REBELLION IN CAMP 114
XI. TURN OF THE TIDE 128
XII. PULLING TOGETHER 138
XIII. FOG-BOUND 150
XIV. SWORDFISHING 162
XV. MIDSUMMER DAYS 174
XVI. A LOST ALUMNUS 186
XVII. BLOWN OFF 198
XVIII. BUOY OR BREAKER 208
XIX. ON THE WHISTLER 221
XX. SQUARING AN ACCOUNT 233
XXI. OLD FRIENDS 243
XXII. PERCY SCORES 255
XXIII. WHITTINGTON GRIT 269
XXIV. CROSSING THE TAPE 283
ILLUSTRATIONS
HE PLUNGED INTO THE SEA AND DRAGGED HIMSELF
TOWARD THE ROCK TO WHICH HIS FATHER WAS
FASTENED _Frontispiece_
THE CAMP AT SPROWL'S COVE _Facing p._ 56
LEANING AGAINST THE MAST-HOOP THAT ENCIRCLED
HIS WAIST, HE LIFTED THE LONG LANCE AND
POISED IT FOR THE BLOW " 166
KNEES BRACED TIGHTLY AGAINST THE SIDES OF THE
STERN, HANDS LOCKED ROUND THE STOUT BUTT
OF THE LANCE, HE FOILED RUSH AFTER RUSH OF
THE BLACK-FINNED, WHITE-BELLIED PIRATES " 172
THEY STOOD CLOSE TOGETHER ON THE CIRCULAR TOP,
HOLDING ON TO THE CROSSED BAILS, WAIST-HIGH " 222
"WE NEED THAT SLOOP AND WE'RE GOING TO HAVE
HER!" " 252
JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN
JIM SPURLING
FISHERMAN
I
SMASHED UP
"Here comes J. P. Whittington, Junior, Esquire, in his new Norman! Some
speed--what?"
The three Graffam Academy seniors, Jim Spurling, Roger Lane, and
Winthrop Stevens, who were sitting on the low, wooden fence before the
campus, earnestly discussing the one thing that had engrossed their
minds for the past two weeks, stopped talking and leaned forward.
On the broad, elm-lined street beyond the Mall suddenly appeared a cloud
of dust, out of which shot a gray automobile. Its high speed soon
brought it to the academy grounds, and it came to an abrupt stop before
the fence.
"Pile in, fellows!" shouted the driver, a bareheaded youth in white
flannels, "and I'll take you on a little spin."
He was a slim, sallow lad of seventeen, with a straw- pompadour
crowning his freckled forehead. The sleeves of his outing shirt were
rolled up above his elbows, revealing his bony, sunburnt arms. He wore a
gay red tie, and a tennis blazer, striped black and white, lay on the
seat beside him.
"No, thanks, Percy," replied Lane. "Sorry we can't go; but we're too
busy."
Spurling and Stevens nodded as Whittington's light-blue eyes traveled
inquiringly from one to the other.
"Ah, come on!" he invited. "Be sports! Let's celebrate the end of the
course. Just to show how good I feel, I'm going to scorch a three-mile
hole through the atmosphere between here and Mount Barlow faster than it
was ever done before. Tumble aboard and help hold this barouche down on
the pike while I burn the top off it for the last time."
Pulling out a book of tissue wrappers and a sack of tobacco, he began to
roll a cigarette with twitching, yellowed fingers.
"Anybody got a match? No? Then I'll have to dig one up myself."
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a lucifer. Soon he was inhaling
the smoke and talking rapidly.
"I'm so glad this is my last week here I feel like kicking my head off.
Once I shake the dust of this dump off my tires, you can bet you'll
never catch me here again. Say, do you know what this Main Street
reminds me of? An avenue in Metairie Cemetery in New Orleans, with a row
of white tombs on each side. I saw it last Christmas. They bury 'em
aboveground there, too. The Rubes in this burg are just as dead, only
they don't know it."
Drawing a final, long, luxurious whiff, he tossed the half-smoked
cigarette away.
"Well, so long! My dad's coming on the five-ten to see his only son
graduate _cum laude_. And me loaded down with conditions a truck-horse
couldn't haul! Wouldn't that jar you? Guess I'll have to do my
road-burning before he gets here. Hold a watch on me, will you? I'm out
for the record."
"Careful, or you'll get pinched for over-speeding," cautioned Stevens.
Whittington spat contemptuously.
"Pinch your grandmother!" he jeered. "I've been pinched too many times
to mind a little thing like that."
Off darted the gray car. The three gazed after it in silence. Then
Spurling spoke.
"Must seem rather pleasant to have a bank-account you can't touch the
bottom of, mustn't it? They say his father's all sorts of a millionaire.
Hope he doesn't get smashed up or run over somebody."
"He's a good-natured fool," commented Lane. "But you can't help liking
him, after all. Now let's get back to business."
It was Commencement week in mid-June at the old country academy nestled
among the New England hills. The lawns before the substantial white
houses were emerald with the fresh, unrivaled green of spring. Fragrant
lilacs sweetened the soft air. The walks under the thick-leafed elms
were thronged with talking, laughing groups. Bright- dresses
dotted the campus before the dingy brick buildings. Tennis-courts and
ball-field were alive with active figures. A few days more and students
and strangers would be gone, and the old town would sink into the drowsy
quiet of the long summer vacation.
Lounging on the notched, whittled fence, Lane, Spurling, and Stevens
fell once more into earnest conversation.
Spurling came from a Maine coast town. He was nineteen, tall,
broad-shouldered, dark-complexioned, deliberate in speech and movements.
Physically very strong, he had caught on the academy ball team and
played guard in football. Mentally he was a trifle slow; but in the
whole school there was no squarer, more solid fellow. So far as finances
went, he was dependent on his own resources; whatever education he got
he must earn himself.
Lane afforded in many respects a decided contrast to Spurling. Reared on
a New Hampshire farm in the shadow of the White Mountains, he was of
medium build, wiry and active, a practical joker, full of life and
spirit. He had red hair and the quick temper that goes with it. Though
not much of a student, he had at eighteen a keen, clear business head.
Like Spurling, he had been obliged to make his own way; and, like
Spurling, he was abundantly able to make it.
Winthrop Stevens, or "Throppy," as his friends nicknamed him, claimed a
small Massachusetts city as his home. He was the best scholar of the
three, dark, quiet, studious, with a decided trend toward mechanics and
electricity. Though not obliged to work for his schooling, he had always
chummed with the other two, and with them had been a waiter at a shore
hotel the previous season.
The trio were endeavoring to decide what they should do the coming
summer.
"Well," said Lane, "what shall it be? Juggling food again at the
Beachmont?"
"Not for me," answered Spurling, decidedly. "I'm sick of hanging round a
table, pretending to do as many unnecessary things as you can, wondering
whether the man you've waited on is going to give up a half-dollar or a
nickel, knowing that the more uncomfortable you can make him feel the
bigger fee you'll pull down. No more tipping for me! I'd rather earn my
money, even if I don't get so much."
"Hits me, Jim," assented Stevens. "What do you say, Budge?"
"Same here," agreed Roger.
The long-drawn shriek of a locomotive rose from the valley-bottom.
"There's the five-ten!" ejaculated Lane. "I pity Whittington when his
dad finds how things have gone."
"Percy isn't the only one who needs sympathy," said Spurling, soberly.
"What about his father?"
"I'm sorry for 'em both," was Lane's comment. "But the Whittington
family'll have to handle its own troubles. Now, fellow-members, to the
question before the house! Unless I raise at least two hundred dollars
in the next three months, it's no college for me in September."
A short silence followed. Spurling took out his knife and deliberately
slithered a long, splintery shaving off the fence-top.
"I've an idea," he said, slowly. "Give me till evening and I'll tell
you about it. What d'you say to a last game of tennis?"
The others agreed and slipped off the fence. Lane glanced up the road.
"Here comes Whittington, scorching like a blue streak! And there's Bill
Sanders's old auto crawling up May Street hill from the railroad
station! If Percy should hit him--good-night!"
The gray machine rapidly grew larger. The people on the sidewalks stood
still and watched.
May Street crossed Main at right angles, and a high cedar hedge before
the corner house made it impossible for the two drivers to see each
other until they were close together. On sped the gray car.
"Isn't he humming!"
Suddenly Whittington thrust out his left arm.
"He's going to turn down May Street!" shouted Lane. "Bound to the
station after his father. He'll hit Sanders, sure as fate! Hi! Hi there,
Percy!"
Heedless of the warning, Whittington whirled round into May Street and
plunged full tilt into the hotel bus, striking it a glancing blow back
of its front wheel. There was a tremendous crash.
"Come on, fellows!" cried Lane.
They ran at top speed toward the wreck. Through the clearing dust three
figures were visible, extricating themselves from the ruins. Sanders,
the hotel chauffeur, was groaning and rubbing his ankle. His only
passenger, a bald, thick-set man, with smooth face and bulldog jaw, had
a bleeding scratch down his right cheek and a badly torn coat.
Whittington, apparently unharmed, was chalky and stuttering from
fright.
Spurling, for all his slowness, was the first to reach the wreck. He
helped the stout stranger to his feet, and the man turned angrily toward
Whittington. An exclamation of surprise burst from both.
"Dad!"
"Percy!"
Understanding struggled with indignation on the older man's face.
"Well," he growled, "so you've done it again!"
For a moment the lad stood in shamefaced alarm, shaking from head to
foot.
"Are you much hurt, Dad?" he stammered.
"Only a scratch," returned Whittington, senior. "But it's no thanks to
you that I wasn't killed."
He turned to Sanders, who was still chafing his ankle.
"Anything broken?"
"No, sir; only a sprain."
"I'm glad it's no worse. Have this mess cleared away and I'll fix up
with you later at the hotel; and get my suit-case over to my room, will
you?"
To his son he said:
"We'll go to your dormitory."
He limped grimly ahead; Percy followed. As he passed the three seniors
he pulled a face of mock repentance. The boys resumed their way to the
tennis-court.
"Pretty poor stick, isn't he?" commented Lane, disgustedly. "Almost
kills his father, and then laughs at it. Throws away in a few seconds
more than enough to put the three of us half-way through our freshman
year in college. No, I've no use for Whittington."
"If he'd had to earn his own money," remarked Spurling, "he'd look on
things differently. He's got a good streak in him."
"Maybe so; but it'll take mighty hard work to bring it out. Well, here's
the court. How'll we play?"
In Whittington's room father and son silently removed the traces | 284.995818 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.0591330 | 6,499 | 19 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by Cornell University Digital Collections.)
[Illustration:
The American Missionary
VOL. XXXIX.
NO. 8.
August, 1885.]
CONTENTS
* * * * *
PAGE.
EDITORIAL.
THE FIGURES--FINANCIAL 213
FAREWELL AND GREETING 215
HIGHER EDUCATION OF THE <DW64> 217
OPINIONS 219
PARAGRAPHS 221
THE SOUTH.
BEREA COLLEGE, KY. 221
ANNIVERSARY AT TALLADEGA 222
TOUGALOO COMMENCEMENT 223
TILLOTSON INSTITUTE 224
AVERY INSTITUTE--BREWER NORMAL SCHOOL 226
STUDENT'S LETTER 227
THE INDIANS.
THE APACHE RAID 229
INDIAN SUMMER TENT (cut) 230
THE CHINESE.
TOUR AMONG THE MISSIONS 231
BUREAU OF WOMAN'S WORK.
RESOLUTIONS AT SARATOGA 233
PAPER MISSION--INDUSTRIAL LETTER FROM LE MOYNE 234
CHILDREN'S PAGE.
PLAYING 'POSSUM 234
RECEIPTS 235
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION.
Rooms, 56 Reade Street.
* * * * *
Price 50 Cents a Year, in Advance.
Entered at the Post-Office at New York, N. Y., as second-class
matter.
* * * * *
AMERICAN MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION.
* * * * *
PRESIDENT, Hon. WM. B. WASHBURN, LL. D., Mass.
_Vice-Presidents._
Rev. C. L. GOODELL, D. D., Mo.
Rev. A. J. F. BEHRENDS, D. D., N. Y.
Rev. D. O. MEARS, D. D., Mass.
Rev. F. A. NOBLE, D. D., Ill.
Rev. ALEX. McKENZIE, D. D., Mass.
_Corresponding Secretary._
Rev. M. E. STRIEBY, D. D., _56 Reade Street, N. Y._
_Assistant Corresponding Secretary._
Rev. JAMES POWELL, D. D., _56 Reade Street, N. Y._
_Treasurer._
H. W. HUBBARD, Esq., _56 Reade Street, N. Y._
_Auditors._
W. H. ROGERS,
PETER McCARTEE.
_Executive Committee._
JOHN H. WASHBURN, Chairman.
A. P. FOSTER, Secretary.
_For Three Years._
LYMAN ABBOTT.
A. S. BARNES.
J. R. DANFORTH.
CLINTON B. FISK.
A. P. FOSTER.
_For Two Years._
S. B. HALLIDAY.
SAMUEL HOLMES.
SAMUEL S. MARPLES.
CHARLES L. MEAD.
ELBERT B. MONROE.
_For One Year._
J. E. RANKIN.
WM. H. WARD.
J. L. WITHROW.
JOHN H. WASHBURN.
EDMUND L. CHAMPLIN.
_District Secretaries._
Rev. C. L. WOODWORTH, D. D., _21 Cong'l House, Boston_.
Rev. J. E. ROY, D. D., _112 West Washington Street, Chicago_.
Rev. CHARLES W. SHELTON, _Financial Secretary for Indian Missions_.
_Field Officer._
----
_Bureau of Woman's Work._
_Secretary_, Miss D. E. EMERSON, _56 Reade Street, N. Y._
* * * * *
COMMUNICATIONS
Relating to the work of the Association may be addressed to the
Corresponding Secretary; those relating to the collecting fields, to
Rev. James Powell, D. D., or to the District Secretaries; letters for
the "American Missionary," to the Editor, at the New York Office.
DONATIONS AND SUBSCRIPTIONS
May be sent to H. W. Hubbard, Treasurer, 56 Reade Street, New York,
or, when more convenient, to either of the Branch Offices, 21
Congregational House, Boston, Mass., or 112 West Washington Street,
Chicago, Ill. A payment of thirty dollars at one time constitutes a
Life Member.
FORM OF A BEQUEST.
"I BEQUEATH to my executor (or executors) the sum of ---- dollars, in
trust, to pay the same in ---- days after my decease to the person
who, when the same is payable, shall act as Treasurer of the
'American Missionary Association,' of New York City, to be applied,
under the direction of the Executive Committee of the Association, to
its charitable uses and purposes." The Will should be attested by
three witnesses.
* * * * *
THE AMERICAN MISSIONARY
VOL. XXXIX. AUGUST, 1885. No. 8.
* * * * *
American Missionary Association.
* * * * *
$365,000
NEEDED FOR THE CURRENT YEAR.
* * * * *
Your Committee are convinced that not less than a THOUSAND DOLLARS a
day are imperatively demanded to perfect the admirably organized
plans of the Association, even for the present, to say nothing of the
pressing needs of the early future.--
[FINANCE COMMITTEE'S REPORT ADOPTED BY ANNUAL MEETING AT SALEM.]
* * * * *
THE FIGURES.
Donations. Legacies. Total.
Oct. 1, 1884, to June 30, 1885 - $153,072.30 $23,884.35 $176,956.65
Oct. 1, 1883, to June 30, 1884 - 145,821.49 31,169.90 176,991.39
----------- ---------- -----------
Inc. $7,250.81 Dec. $7,285.55 Dec. $34.74
These figures on their face are encouraging rather than discouraging.
They show that our receipts from living donors are better by a few
thousand dollars than last year, an evidence of the hold that we
still have upon the churches, made all the more conspicuous in these
hard times. But these figures do not tell the whole story. The
$40,000 debt to which we have made frequent reference hitherto is
still pending. To this must be added the $13,000 debt that came over
from last year.
Only two working months are left. Our fiscal year ends with
September. From month to month we have published the figures. Our
friends have been able to trace for themselves just how the financial
struggle has been maintained. Donations from churches and
individuals have been kept distinct from legacies, and comparison
made with receipts of the corresponding months in the preceding year.
A varying story the figures have had to tell.
There is a slave hymn:
"I'm sometimes up and I'm sometimes down,
But still my soul is heavenly bound."
That has been the case with our feelings as we have followed the rise
and fall in the comparisons. But amid all the fluctuations we have
had an abiding confidence that before the year ends there will be
such a rally by our friends that we shall come out free of debt. Are
we to be disappointed? We are approaching the time for decisive
thought and action. We cannot delay much longer. The figures this
month not only show that in the total we are a little behind, but
they also indicate that our reliance for relief must be in the living
and not in the dead. We have no large legacies that are available in
sight, and we have no reserve fund on which to draw to avert
disaster. Can the threatening deficit be averted? Can our friends
meet the demand? Yes, and much more. All that is needed is the will
to do; the ability exists.
We appeal to the wealthy to take this matter upon their hearts and
minds at once. We beg them to send on, as soon as possible, generous
donations to our treasury. Their example at this time will be most
inspiring.
We ask all our friends to do what they can. "The two mites" that in
the Lord's mode of estimating count more than many of the larger
gifts, we cannot possibly do without. The little rills and the small
streams must make their contributions, or the broad and deep river on
which we are to float and be saved will not form.
Especially do we plead that _every_ Congregational church in the
country, large and small, without exception, will see to it that
before the end of next September it shall be on record as having
taken a contribution within the year for the American Missionary
Association. Pastors, deacons, church clerks and church treasurers,
will you not, for the sake of this endangered cause, for the sake of
the millions of Christ's poor for whom we labor, give us the help of
your influence to secure this? We believe you will.
* * * * *
The Thirty-ninth Annual Meeting of the American Missionary
Association will be held in Madison, Wisconsin, October 27-29. The
sermon will be preached by the Rev. Reuen Thomas, D. D., Brookline,
Mass. We hope to see the East well represented at this meeting, and
trust that as many of our friends as possible will make their plans
to be there. The brethren in the West will be glad to welcome them.
Additional notices will appear hereafter.
* * * * *
FAREWELL AND GREETING.
We regret to announce that Professor Salisbury, who for the past
three years has been Superintendent of our school work, this month
severs his connection officially with the A. M. A. He goes to take
charge of the State Normal School at Whitewater, Wis. This is the
school in which we found him as a professor, when we called him to
our ranks, and now we are called to give him up that he may go back
to stand at its head. We can ill afford to spare him. He is not only
a master in his knowledge of everything connected with schools, in
respect to organization, discipline and best methods of teaching, but
he is also a man of remarkable executive ability.
When he entered our work he certainly came into the kingdom for a day
that had been providentially prepared. The work had taken on massive
proportions. All over the South our schools had been planted. These
schools were branches of the same tree; they had a common trunk and
drew their life and spirit from the same soil. But, separated so far
from one another, as many of them were, there came to be a felt
necessity that some one competent to care for their common interests,
while recognizing at the same time their separate prerogatives and
rights, must be found. Multiplied variety necessarily had
characterized their development, and as a consequence, the unity of
their origin and aim had been endangered. That is a law of nature. We
had been brought to see and feel this. We looked around to find the
man equal to the task involved. It was not easy to find him. We
realized the difficulty. Our workers realized it. It would not have
been strange if we had made a mistake. A rare combination of
qualifications was demanded. We believed that Professor Salisbury
possessed these qualifications. We invited him to take up the work.
He accepted. He entered, and continued in it down to the last moment
he held the office, with all his heart and soul, and now that he has
felt constrained to leave us we are glad, not only on his account,
but also on our own, unreservedly to bear testimony that, we believe,
no mistake was made when he was appointed.
He has rendered the American Missionary Association signal service,
and when we remember how intimately the work of this Association is
connected with the welfare of the nation, it is not too much to say
that he has in these three years of hard and faithful work rendered
signal service to the whole land. Our school work has steadily grown
in efficiency and power ever since he took it up, and the general
cause of education all over the South has been benefited by the
impulse his teaching, character and devotion have inspired. Not alone
the schools, but the white schools as well, have been the
gainers. By his lectures and instruction given in Normal Institutes,
and by his personal contact with the leading educators of the South,
he has brought in no small degree a knowledge of the most approved
methods of teaching to the attention of Southern educators, and has
done much to develop a sentiment in favor of popular education among
the people.
It is a high compliment to his ability the State of Wisconsin pays in
calling him back and investing him with the principalship of the same
school from which we took him; and, as we reluctantly return him, we
can wish for him no greater blessing than that the same success may
attend his labors in the field to which he goes that, with God's
favor, has so abundantly crowned him in the one he leaves.
* * * * *
"The king is dead; long live the king." We have just been speeding
the parting guest. We now turn to welcome the coming. That we have
done the "speeding" reluctantly does not abate the heartiness with
which we now do the "welcoming." To such an extent had our church
work been systematized under Superintendent Roy, and our school work
under Superintendent Salisbury, that when we had to transfer the one
to the Western District Secretaryship, and had to lose the other, we
felt that the two positions might possibly be merged. The very
success of these workers had made this practicable. Not that the work
of the two could be done by any one man. They are not that kind of
men, as our constituents well know. They are both of them drivers. It
is almost enough to discourage any ordinary man to see either of them
work. A hard position to fill surely. We are glad to say that after a
good deal of searching we believe we have found the man.
We have appointed Rev. C. J. Ryder, of Medina, Ohio, as our Field
Superintendent. He accepts the appointment and will take up the work
the first of September. He will be located at Cincinnati, from which
point, by reason of its central location and excellent railroad
facilities, he will be able to reach out in all directions. A
successful pastor--an able preacher, having had experience and
success as a teacher, and in addition possessing already considerable
knowledge of our work, he will enter the field with the opinions of
all those who know him best united that he will make it a success. We
welcome him to the ranks of our fellowship in the glorious cause of
bringing the light of the gospel and Christian education to the poor;
we welcome him to the rich joy the expressions of their heart-felt
gratitude will cause him to experience. We welcome him to the love
and confidence and co-operation of our missionaries whose hearts will
be made glad by his visits and whose toil will be made lighter by his
counsel; above all we welcome him to the rewards God bestows upon
those who are ready, if need be, to surrender everything that they
may follow Christ.
* * * * *
HIGHER EDUCATION OF THE <DW64>.
REV. W. W. PATTON, D. D.
Many strangely adopt this wrong principle with regard to the <DW64>
race--that they are to be treated not simply as men, but as <DW52>
men, as members of a peculiar and inferior race, about whom one must
not reason as he would about others, and especially about white men.
One writer thinks that his eyes have just been opened to the truth,
for he says: "Like most Northern men, I have made the mistake of
judging the black by the standard of the white. A freer intercourse
with him and a closer study of his characteristics have shown me that
he is not to be so judged, and that the training adapted to the white
man is not adapted to the black." In any reasonable sense of these
words, we regard them as involving the same error which so long
hindered emancipation--the idea that <DW64>s could not be expected to
act as would other men in the same circumstances. It used to be
argued that freed <DW64>s would refuse to labor, and would simply
plunder and massacre. The history of the last twenty years, and the
enormous crops raised at the South since the war, have disproved this
absurdity, although the writer quoted still has his doubts, for he
says of the <DW64>: "We must take him as he is; and because we have
not done this, his freedom, which has been of inestimable value to
the Southern white man, has until now been a most questionable
blessing to the <DW64>!" One who can utter that doubt has some defect
of vision, which disqualifies him from reaching safe conclusions
respecting the <DW52> race. Now, every race has certain
peculiarities, and so has every nation, and to these we have a degree
of regard in our intercourse with them. In minor matters, we
remember, in our dealings, that this man is a Scotchman, and that man
a Welshman, and that a Frenchman, and that a German. But in great
questions of principle and method touching humanity, such as
education and religion, we drop race and nation, and act upon simple
manhood. If we do not, we are sure to err. The true idea in the case
before us is, not to think perpetually of the black skin and the
African blood, but of the man, and to use with the <DW64> precisely
the measures which should be used with white men in the same
circumstances of ignorance and poverty, and with the same
responsibilities as citizens. And it is singular that objectors to
our work do not seem to be aware that the precise difficulty which
they emphasize respecting the black masses at the South has been
equally emphasized by others respecting the white masses at the
North. The complaint everywhere heard in the Northern States is, that
the common people are being so highly educated as to become
dissatisfied with labor. The young men and young women refuse to work
at manual industries, and take to trade and the professions, or else
become dissipated idlers. Hence attempts are making to attach
industrial education to our common schools. Why, then, talk of the
peculiarities of the <DW64> in this matter? There are none. He simply
shares in the temptations which beset all races, and we must reason
accordingly, and plan alike for the masses of the people, black and
white.
One should avoid extreme and disproportionate statements and
implications. The same writer runs a tilt against all education for
the <DW64> above the most rudimental, and says: "I have failed to see
one who has been made a better man or a better citizen by this higher
education; on the contrary, I know of very many who have been morally
and socially ruined by it." We are sorry that his acquaintance has
been so unfortunate with this class. Others have had the happiness to
know scores and hundreds of well-educated <DW52> people who are
doing great credit to their race as ministers, physicians, editors,
lawyers, teachers and authors. To one of these, a graduate of a
theological institution, aided by this Association, the District
Attorney in the part of Virginia where he now lives, recently
addressed a letter of thanks for his having wrought a moral
revolution in that county, saying: "Your boldness in condemning the
wrong and asserting and approving the right has not only impressed
the, and influenced their conduct in the right direction, but
it has at the same time won for you the confidence and esteem of all
the thinking portion of the white race, who are interested in good
government and a well-ordered and law-abiding community... for which
this community ought to be profoundly grateful." And this man is also
"ebon black." And here we would correct the impression that a large
disproportion of the <DW64>s are receiving "a higher education." The
idea is given out that a great mistake has been made by the societies
and philanthropists that are seeking the elevation of the freedmen.
It would relieve the quite unnecessary alarm of objectors if they
would consult the United States census for the statistics of the
<DW64> population, and then compare with its six millions of <DW52>
people the few thousands of them found in the colleges, academies,
high schools, theological seminaries, medical and law schools of the
land. Probably not more than one <DW64> in a thousand is receiving
anything beyond the very simplest instruction. Surely, then, no great
harm can yet have been done, or is likely to be done, for many years
to come. And yet, long before the objectors had spoken, these same
educators had begun to add industrial training to book learning, and
they are now pushing this branch as fast as the pecuniary means are
furnished.
Nor should we overlook the vast and pressing necessities to which the
higher education stands related. There is a loud and general call for
_competent_ teachers, instead of there being such a surplus
as the aforementioned writer found when he says, "There was only one
vacancy where there were fifty teachers." A remarkably favored
locality! The superintendents of Southern schools tell a very
different story. Not long since, the Rev. Dr. Haygood, of Georgia,
in an article in the _Independent_, called for fifty thousand
physicians, to be furnished as speedily as possible. And who can
exaggerate the need of educated ministers to take the place
of the old ignorant preachers? And how is any race to rise without
intelligent leaders of their own in every locality? These will
naturally be found in their men of education and property, in their
ministers, physicians, lawyers, editors, teachers and political
representatives. It is idle and wrong to repress or ignore the
ambition of <DW64>s of talent to be something more than laborers and
servants, bootblacks and whitewashers. They must have the chance that
others have, in proportion to their numbers; no more, no less. And
all these rising <DW52> men must have correspondingly intelligent
wives, for their comfort and improvement and for the training of
their children. To meet such wants the existing schools of high grade
will all be needed and should all be liberally endowed.
* * * * *
OPINIONS.
The American Missionary Association and those allied to it have been
the chief agency at the South, so far as benevolent effort is
concerned, in diffusing right notions of religion, and in carrying
education to the darkened mind of the <DW64>.--_Hon. J. L. M. Curry._
* * * * *
Of all the questions which disturb the mental equanimity of the
patriotic and thinking citizen of our Republic, none is looming in
his horizon with a more lurid and portentous aspect than the black
cloud of illiteracy which is rapidly spreading over the country, and
especially resting upon the Southern States of the Union. Compared
with it as an element of vital danger to the Republic, Mormonism,
Communism and Socialism sink into obscurity. The only way out of the
unfortunate dilemma or of ameliorating the condition in which the
country is placed by the thrusting upon it of this mass of ignorance,
is by education--an education both mental and moral.--_George R.
Stetson._
* * * * *
The real tests of Northern zeal and liberality, of Northern faith and
patience in the work of educating the <DW64>, are yet to come. At the
first, Christian zeal was mightily stimulated by the patriotic
fervors of a great war for the preservation of the Union. In most
minds the course of events identified the preservation of the Union
and the abolition of slavery. The tremendous moral and political
forces that were at work during the war, and for many years after its
close, all conspired to make such an appeal to the thought, sentiment
and conscience of the church in the North as was perhaps never before
made for any form of Christian philanthropy. Christian men and women
were filled with pity for the poor <DW64>s, and there was a movement
of "men and money" for their education that was never before seen in
this, or perhaps any other, country. The effort was stupendous, and
the results are amazing.
But the conditions that obtained from 1865 to 1875 will obtain no
more. The enthusiasms peculiar to that period pass away with the
coming of a new generation. The work must go on now as the foreign
missionary movement of Christendom goes on--by the force that is born
of a fixed conviction and an unquestioning faith in God's purpose to
save the world and in His plan of saving it.
It is saddening, it is not surprising, to know that some noble men
and women teaching in <DW64> schools in the South are discouraged.
This is natural, but nevertheless perilous, as well as distressing.
One teacher, long in the service, speaks thus: "Some are much
discouraged; we have expected by this time to see results more
permanent in the <DW64> character; we thought it would be somewhat as
we have seen it in our Western colleges after a few years."
Such a basis of comparison is very unjust to the <DW64> and very
hurtful to his teacher. We must not forget heredity; we must compare
the <DW64> as to education in schools in 1884 with 1864. The white man
has behind him a thousand years of the influences that enter into our
best education. Yet how much he has to learn! How much easier for
white pupils to learn books than virtue--how much easier to acquire
knowledge than wisdom! Let us have patience with each other. Let us
also settle down to steady work, steady giving and constant praying.
This is a work for the next hundred years--and more.--_The Advance._
* * * * *
The feeling is too prevalent, even among Christians, that "the only
good Indian is a dead Indian." If parents would put into the hands
of their children reports of our missionaries, so they could see
what is being done for the Indians, instead of letting them get
their opinions of the Indian race from newspaper articles and from
books of Indian wars, in which the rifle and scalping knife were
the only arguments used, much prejudice would be removed and the
missions among Indians would be better sustained. Further, if
parents themselves would take the above advice, it would be time
and money well spent, as some grown-up children might learn as
well.--_Correspondent in St. Louis Evangelist._
* * * * *
Bishop H. M. Turner, of the M. E. Church South, is said to be the
first <DW52> man who has ever received the degrees of D. D. and LL. D.
He educated himself at night among the cotton fields of South
Carolina, and was the first chaplain in the United States
Army.
* * * * *
It is said by the _Journal of Education_ that the <DW52> people of
the country now edit over 100 newspapers, teach 18,000 public schools
with 900,000 pupils, raise annually 150,000,000 bushels of cereals
and 2,700,000,000 pounds of cotton.
* * * * *
THE CONGREGATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF CHRISTIAN CHINESE.
Out of our missions in California has sprung the Congregational
Association of Christian Chinese. What is its object? "Mutual watch
and care; arrangement for special seasons of worship in connection
with the missions, the appointment of brethren to preach at stated
times and places, and a certain measure of mutual aid and relief." A
grand object, surely. The Central Association, with three branches,
is in San Francisco. In other parts of the State there are nine
branches. The total membership is 378. Jee Gam, whom many of our
readers will remember in connection with his visit East four years
ago, is the Secretary.
* * * * *
The new catalogue of Straight University, by an error of the printer,
is made to say that the first building on Esplanade street was
erected and destroyed in 1870. This | 285.079173 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.1585440 | 198 | 70 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
IN INDIAN TENTS
IN INDIAN TENTS
Stories
TOLD BY PENOBSCOT, PASSAMAQUODDY
AND MICMAC INDIANS
TO
ABBY L. ALGER
[Illustration: colophon]
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1897
_Copyright, 1897_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
This Book
IS
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
TO
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND | 293.178584 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.3597120 | 2,689 | 22 |
Produced by Cedric Vonck, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
SENATOR NORTH
BY GERTRUDE ATHERTON
_"When, Mr. President, a man, however eminent in other pursuits and
whatever claims he may have to public confidence, becomes a member of
this body, he has much to learn and much to endure. Little does he know
of what he will have to encounter. He may be well read in public
affairs, but he is unaware of the difficulties which must attend and
embarrass every effort to render what he may know available and useful.
He may be upright in purpose and strong in the belief of his own
integrity, but he cannot even dream of the ordeal to which he cannot
fail to be exposed; of how much courage he must possess to resist the
temptations which must daily beset him; of that sensitive shrinking
from undeserved censure which he must learn to control; of the ever
recurring contest between a natural desire for public approbation and a
sense of public duty; of the load of injustice he must be content to
bear even from those who should be his friends; the imputations on his
motives; the sneers and sarcasms of ignorance and malice; all the
manifold injuries which partisan or private malignity, disappointed of
its object, may shower upon his unprotected head. All this, if he would
retain his integrity, he must learn to ear unmoved and walk steadily
onward in the path of public duty, sustained only by the reflection
that time may do him justice; or if not, that his individual hopes and
aspirations and even his name among men should be of little account to
him when weighed in the balance of a people of whose destiny he is a
constituted guardian and defender."_
--WILLIAM PITT FESSENDEN
_In memorial address before the Senate, 1866._ _Miss Betty Madison
embarks on the Political Sea. Her Discoveries, Surprises, and Triumphs._
SENATOR NORTH
I
"If we receive this Lady Mary Montgomery, we shall also have to receive
her dreadful husband."
"He is said to be quite charming."
"He is a Representative!"
"Of course they are all wild animals to you, but one or two have been
pointed out to me that looked quite like ordinary gentlemen--really."
"Possibly. But no person in official life has ever entered my house. I
do not feel inclined to break the rule merely because the wife of one
of the most objectionable class is an Englishwoman with a title. I
think it very inconsiderate of Lady Barnstaple to have given her a
letter to us."
"Lee, never having lived in Washington, doubtless fancies, like the
rest of the benighted world, that its officials are its aristocracy.
The Senate of the United States is regarded abroad as a sort of House
of Peers. One has to come and live in Washington to hear of the 'Old
Washingtonians,' the 'cave-dwellers,' as Sally calls us; I expected to
see a coat of blue mould on each of them when I returned."
"Really, Betty, I do not understand you this morning." Mrs. Madison
moved uneasily and took out her handkerchief. When her daughter's rich
Southern voice hardened itself to sarcasm, and her brilliant hazel eyes
expressed the brain in a state of cold analysis, Mrs. Madison braced
herself for a contest in which she inevitably must surrender with what
slow dignity she could command. Betty had called her Molly since she
was fourteen months old, and, sweet and gracious in small matters,
invariably pursued her own way when sufficiently roused by the strength
of a desire. Mrs. Madison, however, kept up the fiction of an authority
which she thought was due to herself and her ancestors. She continued
impatiently,--
"You have been standing before that fireplace for ten minutes with your
shoulders thrown back as if you were going to make a speech. It is not
a nice attitude for a girl at all, and I wish you would sit down. I
hope you don't think that because Sally Carter crosses her knees and
cultivates a brutal frankness of expression you must do the same now
that you have dropped all your friends of your own age and become
intimate with her. I suppose she is old enough to do as she chooses,
and she always was eccentric."
"She is only eight years older than I. You forget that I shall be
twenty-seven in three months."
"Well, that is no reason why you should stand before the fireplace like
a man. Do sit down."
"I'd rather stand here till I've said what is necessary--if you don't
mind. I am sorry to be obliged to say it, and I can assure you that I
have not made up my mind in a moment."
"What is it, for heaven's sake?"
Mrs. Madison drew a short breath and readjusted her cushions. In spite
of her wealth and exalted position she had known much trouble and
grief. Her first six children had died in their early youth. Her
husband, brilliant and charming, had possessed a set of affections too
restless and ardent to confine themselves within the domestic limits.
His wife had buried him with sorrow, but with a deep sigh of relief
that for the future she could mourn him without torment. He had
belonged to a collateral branch of a family of which her father had
been the heir; consequently the old Madison house in Washington was
hers, as well as a large fortune. Harold Madison had been free to spend
his own inheritance as he listed, and he had left but a fragment. Mrs.
Madison's nerves, never strong, had long since given way to trouble and
ill-health, and when her active strong-willed daughter entered her
twentieth year, she gladly permitted her to become the mistress of the
household and to think for both. Betty had been educated by private
tutors, then taken abroad for two years, to France, Germany, and Italy,
in order, as she subsequently observed, to make the foreign attache.
Feel more at ease when he proposed. Her winters thereafter until the
last two had been spent in Washington, where she had been a belle and
ranked as a beauty. In the fashionable set it was believed that every
attache, in the city had proposed to her, as well as a large proportion
of the old beaux and of the youths who pursue the business of Society.
Her summers she spent at her place in the Adirondacks, at Northern
watering-places, or in Europe; and the last two years had been passed,
with brief intervals of Paris and Vienna, in England, where she had
been presented with distinction and seen much of country life. She had
returned with her mother to Washington but a month ago, and since then
had spent most of her time in her room or on horseback, breaking all
her engagements after the first ten days. Mrs. Madison had awaited the
explanation with deep uneasiness. Did her daughter, despite the health
manifest in her splendid young figure, feel the first chill of some
mortal disease? She had not been her gay self for months, and although
her complexion was of that magnolia tint which never harbours colour,
it seemed to the anxious maternal eye, looking back to six young
graves, a shade whiter than it should. Or had she fallen in love with
an Englishman, and hesitated to speak, knowing her mother's love for
Washington and bare tolerance of the British Isles? She looked askance
at Betty, who stood tapping the front of her habit with her crop and
evidently waiting for her mother to express some interest. Mrs. Madison
closed her eyes. Betty therefore continued,--
"I see you are afraid I am going to marry an Oriental minister or
something. I hear that one is looking for an American with a million.
Well, I am going to do something you will think even worse. I am going
in for politics."
"You are going to do what?" Mrs. Madison's voice was nearly inaudible
between relief and horrified surprise, but her eyes flew open. "Do you
mean that you are going to vote?--or run for Congress?--but women don't
sit in Congress, do they?"
"Of course not. Do you know I think it quite shocking that we have
lived here in the very brain of the United States all our lives and
know less of politics than if we were Indians in Alaska? I was ashamed
of myself, I can assure you, when Lord Barnstaple asked me so many
questions the first time I visited Maundrell Abbey. He took for
granted, as I lived in Washington, I must be thoroughly well up in
politics, and I was obliged to tell him that although I had
occasionally been in the room with one or two Senators and Cabinet
Ministers, who happened to be in Society first and politics afterward,
I didn't know the others by name, had never put my foot in the White
House or the Capitol, and that no one I knew ever thought of talking
politics. He asked me what I had done with myself during all the
winters I had spent in Washington, and I told him that I had had the
usual girls'-good-time,--teas, theatre, Germans, dinners, luncheons,
calls, calls, calls! I was glad to add that I belonged to several
charities and had read a great deal; but that did not seem to interest
him. Well, I met a good many men like Lord Barnstaple, men who were in
public life. Some of them were dull enough, judged by the feminine
standard, but even they occasionally said something to remember, and
others were delightful. This is the whole point--I can't and won't go
back to what I left here two years ago. My day for platitudes and
pouring tea for men, who are contemptible enough to make Society their
profession, is over. I am going to know the real men of my country. It
is incredible that there are not men in that Senate as well worth
talking to as any I met in England. The other day I picked up a bound
copy of the Congressional Record in a book-shop. It was frantically
interesting."
"It must have been! But, my dear--of course I understand, darling, your
desire for a new intellectual occupation; you always were so
clever--but you can't, you really can't know these men. They are--they
are--politicians. We never have known politicians. They are dreadful
people, who have come from low origins and would probably call me
'marm.'"
"You are all wrong, Molly. I bought a copy of the Congressional
Directory a day or two ago, and have read the biography of every
Senator. Nine-tenths of them are educated men; if only a few attended
the big Universities, the rest went to the colleges of their State.
That is enough for an American of brains. And most of them are lawyers;
others served in the war, and several have distinguished records. They
cannot be boors, whether they have blue blood in them or not. I'm sick
of blue blood, anyway. Vienna was the deadliest place I ever visited.
What makes London interesting is its red streak of plebeianism;--well,
I repeat, I think it really dreadful that we should not know even by
name the men who make our laws, who are making history, who may be
called upon at any moment to decide our fate among nations. I feel a
silly little fool."
"I suppose you mean that I am one too. But it always has been my boast,
Betty, that I never have had a politician in my house. Your father knew
some, but he never brought them here; he knew the fastidious manner in
which I had been brought up; and although I am afraid he kept late
hours with a good many of them at Chamberlin's and other dreadful
places, he always spared me. I suppose this is heredity working out in
you."
"Possibly. But you will admit, will you not, that I am old enough to
choose my own life?"
"You always have done every single thing you wanted, so I don't see why
you talk like that. But if you are going to bring a lot of men to this
house who will spit on my carpets and use toothp | 293.379752 |
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Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the
Internet Web Archive
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: The Internet Web Archive
https://archive.org/details/indeadofnightnov02spei
(University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
A Novel.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1874.
(_All rights reserved_.)
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
A Novel.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1874.
(_All rights reserved_.)
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER
I. THE EVE OF THE TRIAL.
II. THE TRIAL.
III. A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY.
IV. DR. DRAYTON'S SUSPICIONS.
V. HIDE AND SEEK.
VI. FLOWN.
VII. GENERAL ST. GEORGE.
VIII. CUPID AT PINCOTE.
IX. AT THE VILLA PAMPHILI.
X. BACK AGAIN AT PARK NEWTON.
XI. MRS. MCDERMOTT WANTS HER MONEY.
XII. FOOTSTEPS IN THE ROOM.
XIII. THE SQUIRE'S TRIBULATION.
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
CHAPTER I.
THE EVE OF THE TRIAL.
Within a week of Tom Bristow's first visit to Pincote, and his
introduction to the Copes, father and son, Mr. Cope, junior, found
himself, much to his disgust, fairly on his way to New York. He would
gladly have rebelled against the parental dictum in this matter, if he
had dared to do so; but he knew of old how worse than useless it would
be for him to offer the slightest opposition to his father's wishes.
"You will go and say goodbye to Miss Culpepper as a matter of
course," said Mr. Cope to him. "But don't grow too sentimental over
the parting. Do it in an easy, smiling way, as if you were merely
going out of town for a few days. Don't make any promises--don't talk
about the future--and, above all, don't say a word about marriage. Of
course, you will have to write to her occasionally while you are away.
Just a few lines, you know, to say how you are, and all that. No
mawkish silly love-nonsense, but a sensible, manly letter; and be
wisely reticent as to the date of your return. Very sorry, but you
don't know how much longer your business may detain you--you know the
sort of thing I mean."
When the idea had first entered Mr. Cope's mind that it would be an
excellent thing if he could only succeed in getting his son engaged to
Squire Culpepper's only child, it had not been without an ulterior eye
to the fortune which that young lady would one day call her own that
he had been induced to press forward the scheme to a successful issue.
By marrying Miss Culpepper, his son would be enabled to take up a
position in county society such as he could never hope to attain
either by his own merits, which were of the most moderate kind, or
from his father's money bags alone. But dearly as Mr. C | 293.382009 |
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Transcriber's Notes:
Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_
in the original text.
A single underscore designates a subscript.
Equal signs "=" before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold=
in the original text.
Carat symbol "^" designates a superscript.
Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals.
Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up paragraphs.
Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.
DECEMBER,
Volume XVI. 1915 Number 2.
The Ohio
Journal of Science
(Continuation of The Ohio Naturalist)
Official Organ of the
OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY SCIENTIFIC SOCIETY
and of the
OHIO ACADEMY OF SCIENCE
COLUMBUS, OHIO
Annual Subscription Price, $2.00 Single Number, 30 Cents
Entered at the Post-Office at Columbus, Ohio, as Second-Class Matter.
THE OHIO JOURNAL OF SCIENCE
PUBLISHED BY THE
Ohio State University Scientific Society
Issued Monthly during the Academic Year,
from November to June (eight numbers).
OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE OHIO ACADEMY OF SCIENCE
Subscription Price: $2.00 per Year, payable in advance;
to Foreign Countries, $2.50.
Single Copies, 30 Cents.
Editor, JOHN H. SCHAFFNER
Associate Editor, JAMES S. HINE
Associate Editor, FREDERICK W. IVES
EDITORIAL BOARD
J. F. LYMAN Agricultural Chemistry
F. W. IVES Agricultural Engineering
A. G. MCCALL Agronomy
F. L. LANDACRE Anatomy
J. H. SCHAFFNER Botany
CARL B. HARROP Ceramic Engineering
JAS. R. WITHROW Chemistry
F. H. ENO Civil Engineering
MINNA C. DENTON Home Economics
N. W. SCHERER Forestry
C. S. PROSSER Geology
V. H. DAVIS Horticulture
W. A. KNIGHT Industrial Arts
C. J. WEST Mathematics
HORACE JUDD Mechanical Engineering
JONATHAN FORMAN Pathology
F. C. BLAKE Physics
R. J. SEYMOUR Physiology (General)
CLAYTON MCPEEK Physiology (Medical)
E. R. HAYHURST Public Health & Sanitation
J. S. HINE Zoology and Entomology
THE OHIO JOURNAL OF SCIENCE is owned and controlled by the Ohio State
University Scientific Society. By a special arrangement with the Ohio
Academy of Science, the OHIO JOURNAL OF SCIENCE is sent without
additional expense to all members of the Academy who are not in arrears
for annual dues.
The first fifteen volumes of the old OHIO NATURALIST may be obtained at
$1.00 per volume.
Remittances of all kinds should be made payable to the Business Manager,
J. S. HINE.
Address The Ohio Journal of Science Ohio State University,
Columbus
=Ohio Academy of Science Publications.=
First and Second Annual Reports Price 30 cts. each
Third and Fourth Annual Reports Price 25 cts. each
Fifth to Sixteenth Annual Reports Price 20 cts. each
Seventeenth to Twenty-fourth Annual Report Price 40 cts. each
SPECIAL PAPERS.
1. Sandusky Flora. pp. 167. E. L. MOSELEY 60 cts.
2. The Odonata of Ohio. pp. 110. DAVID S. KELLICOTT 60 cts.
3. The Preglacial Drainage of Ohio. pp. 76. W. G. TIGHT,
J. A. BOWNOCKER, J. H. TODD and GERARD FOWKE 50 cts.
4. The Fishes of Ohio. pp. 105. RAYMOND C. OSBURN 60 cts.
5. Tabanidæ of Ohio. pp. 63. JAMES S. HINE 50 cts.
6. The Birds of Ohio. pp. 241. LYNDS JONES 75 cts.
7. Ecological Study of Big Spring Prairie. pp. 96.
THOMAS A. BONSER 50 cts.
8. The Coccidæ of Ohio, i. pp. 66. JAMES G. SANDERS 50 cts.
9. Batrachians and Reptiles of Ohio. pp. 54. MAX MORSE 50 cts.
10. Ecological Study of Brush Lake. pp. 20. J. H. SCHAFFNER,
OTTO E. JENN | 293.413287 |
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RICHARD DARE'S VENTURE
OR
STRIKING | 293.509574 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
IN THE MIST OF THE MOUNTAINS
+----------------------------+
| |
| _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ |
| |
| (Uniform with this volume) |
| |
| SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS |
| THE FAMILY AT MISRULE |
| THE LITTLE LARRIKIN |
| MISS BOBBIE |
| THE CAMP AT WANDINONG |
| THREE LITTLE MAIDS |
| THE STORY OF A BABY |
| LITTLE MOTHER MEG |
| BETTY AND CO. |
| MOTHER'S LITTLE GIRL |
| THE WHITE-ROOF TREE |
| THE STOLEN VOYAGE |
| |
+----------------------------+
[Illustration: "'I'm so sorry, chickies,' she said kindly." (Page 19.)]
IN THE MIST OF
THE MOUNTAINS
By
ETHEL TURNER
(Mrs. H. R. Curlewis)
_Author of "Seven Little Australians," "The Little Larrikin,"
"Miss Bobbie," etc., etc._
ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. MACFARLANE
LONDON
WARD LOCK & CO. LIMITED
1908
TO
H. R. C.
"They that have heard the overword
Know life's a dream worth dreaming."
_Henley._
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I Somewhat Contagious 9
II Treating of Larkin and his Commission 23
III Miss Bibby 31
IV The Famous Novelist 43
V Ante-prandial Visitors 55
VI A Grocery Order 60
VII Letters to a Mother 72
VIII Across the Rubicon 87
IX The Interview for the "Evening Mail" 96
X Anna enjoys Ill-health 112
XI Miss Bibby's Holiday 126
XII In Black and White 135
XIII An Interview with the Interviewer 144
XIV The Literary Microbe 156
XV "Out of the Mouths of Babes" 170
XVI Wooing the Muse 179
XVII Literature is Low 190
XVIII An Editing Pencil 197
XIX Max Runs Amuck 205
XX A Lesson in Discipline 216
XXI In Print at last 227
XXII A Master Mind 229
XXIII The Picnic at the Falls 243
XXIV At the Second Fall 259
CHAPTER I
SOMEWHAT CONTAGIOUS
It is October and the mountains are waking from their short winter
sleep.
It is October, the month of the moving mists.
Come and let us take a walk, not down Fleet Street with Dr. Johnson, but
up a mountain side with Nature,--nay, with God Himself. There is nothing
to see, absolutely nothing at all. You know that there are trees on
either hand of you, and that the undergrowth is bursting into the stars
and delicate bells of its springtime bloom. But your knowledge of this
is merely one of the services your memory does for you, for the mist has
covered it all away from sight.
You look behind you and your world is blotted out.
You look in front of you,--nay, you cannot look in front of you, for the
mist lies as a veil, actually on your face.
"I breathed up a whole cloud this morning," Lynn remarked once.
"I eated one--and it was nasty," said Max.
Still you continue to look in front of you as far as may be.
And the next moment the veil lifts,--clean up over your head perhaps,
and you see it rolling away on the wind to one side of you, yards and
yards of flying white gossamer, its ragged edges catching in the trees.
And now your gaze leaps and lingers, and lingers and leaps for miles in
front of you. You look downward and the ball of the earth has split at
your feet and the huge fissure has widened and widened till a limitless
valley lies there. You look down hundreds of feet and see like sprouting
seedlings the tops of gum trees,--gum trees two hundred feet high.
The far side of the valley shows a rolling mountain chain washed in in
tender shades of purple, paling nearer at hand to blue, the tender
indescribable mountain blue. Great jagged headlands hang perilously over
the deep, and the silver thread of a distant waterfall gleams here and
there down the face of the gorges of whose wonderful beauty the tourist
has heard and comes thousands of miles to see.
A billowy cloud, soft and dazzling as snow, has fallen from the sky or
risen with the mist, you are not sure which, and lies bewilderingly low
and lovely on the purple hills. Then there comes that damp, delicate
sensation on your face and all is mist again.
It is just as if a lovely girl now playfully hid her exquisite face with
the gauzy scarf twined round her head, and now showed it, each fresh
glimpse revealing a newer and tenderer beauty.
Lynn, who, though but eight, is given to quaint and delicate turns of
thought, calls it all "God's kaleidoscope."
Nearer to the station cluster the weatherboard business places of the
little township of Burunda. The butcher does a trade of perhaps two
sheep a week during the winter, but leaps to many a score of them when
"the strangers" begin to come up from the moist city at the first touch
of November's heat. The bakers--there are two of them--fight bitterly
for "the strangers'" custom.
All the winter a few decrepit-looking tarts and buns form the shop
window display of each. But when signs of life begin in the cottages the
battle starts.
"Seven for sixpence," Benson writes in red letters on a card in the
midst of his "drop" cakes.
"Eight for sixpence," Dunks retorts in larger type in the midst of _his_
heap of the popular confectionery.
"Nine for sixpence," is Benson's desperate challenge,--the cakes of
course shrinking somewhat in size.
The baker does not live who can afford to give ten for sixpence.
Benson has now to create new signs. "No second-class flour used in the
cakes of _this_ establishment," is one of his efforts.
Dunks caps it.
"No miserable counting out of currants in cakes baked _here_. Visitors
are invited to sample." And on his counter is a very fruity specimen cut
across. As a result of this competition "the strangers" may count on
quite respectable cakes for their tea.
There are two grocers--brothers, oddly enough, though not connected in
trade; steady, peaceable old men with whom brotherly love continues
despite trade rivalry.
But they possess a live young assistant each, and it is war to the knife
between these lads.
They fall on the startled stranger before he is fairly out of the train
and thrust before him the merits of their respective establishments.
Howie, the boy of Septimus Smith, is lean and lanky and can stretch a
long arm and a trade card for an amazing distance to just beneath your
nose. But Larkin is small and wiry and has a knack of squeezing himself
right into the midst of your mountain of luggage and children and
porters, and earnestly informing you that Octavius Smith keeps the best
bacon in the district, and promising you that if you deal with him, he,
Larkin, will bring your letters with him from the post office every
morning when he calls for orders.
It is said that the loser invariably fights the winner after these
contests unless there falls to his lot another passenger by the same
train. But if it happens that the luck is to neither,--that is, if all
are hotel or boarding-house visitors, or (an unforgivable thing in the
eyes of both) if the newcomers are people who bring their own groceries
from the metropolis, then the two go off almost friends and help each
other up with any boxes the train may have brought for them.
The Lomax children took a keen interest in the warfare, and always asked
Larkin, when he came for orders in the morning, how many of the new
people's custom he had secured.
For it was Larkin's trick of insinuating himself among the portmanteaus
and confused servants and children, and then talking rapidly of bacon
and letters, that had gained him Mrs. Lomax's custom when the family
first came to Burunda. That bewildered lady simply had to consent that
he might call to get him out of the knot of seemingly inextricable
confusion with which she had to deal.
There are two photographers, two shoe-menders, two house agents, two
visiting doctors.
It is conceivable that if a third man of any trade come along the
character of business in Burunda may entirely change. But while there
are but two of each, the chances are that any day the visitors may have
the quiet monotony of the place broken up by a civil war.
Not far from the station stand the hotels and the more modest
boarding-houses.
And then begin the cottages and villas--nearly all of them
weatherboard--of people who like to have a foothold a few thousand feet
in the air when summer's shroud of damp enwraps the Harbour city.
The Lomax children swung disconsolately on the gate of their summer
home. All they could see was the road in front of them, now clear, now
filled with flying mist, and their senses were wearied of it.
Might they go down the gully?
No, they might not go down the gully. Who had time on a busy day like
this, and Miss Bibby writing to New Zealand, to go trapesing down all
those rough places with them?
Couldn't they go alone?
No, they could not go alone. A nice thing it would be for the Judge's
children to be lost down a gully and sleeping out all night.
Well, might they go down to the waterfall? They couldn't get lost on
made paths and with picnickers everywhere.
No, they might not go down to the waterfall. What would the Judge | 293.513089 |
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Produced by Andrew Sly
DARKNESS AND DAWN
BY
GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND
To
Robert H. Davis
Unique inspirer of plots
Do I dedicate
This my trilogy
G.A.E.
CONTENTS
BOOK I
The Vacant World
I. The Awakening
II. Realization
III. On the Tower Platform
IV. The City of Death
V. Exploration
VI. Treasure-Trove
VII. The Outer World
VIII. A Sign of Peril
IX. Headway Against Odds
X. Terror
XI. A Thousand Years!
XII. Drawing Together
XIII. The Great Experiment
XIV. The Moving Lights
XV. Portents of War
XVI. The Gathering of the Hordes
XVII. Stern's Resolve
XVIII. The Supreme Question
XIX. The Unknown Race
XX. The Curiosity of Eve
XXI. Eve Becomes an Amazon
XXII. Gods!
XXIII. The Obeah
XXIV. The Fight in the Forest
XXV. The Goal, and Through It
XXVI. Beatrice Dares
XXVII. To Work!
XXVIII. The Pulverite
XXIX. The Battle on the Stairs
XXX. Consummation
BOOK II
Beyond The Great Oblivion
I. Beginnings
| 293.682827 |
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The Little Maid of Israel.
BY
Emma Howard Wight.
SECOND EDITION
ST. LOUIS, MO., 1910
PUBLISHED BY B. HERDER
17 SOUTH BROADWAY
FREIBURG (BADEN) LONDON, W. C.
GERMANY 68, GREAT RUSSELL ST.
Copyright, 1900, by Jos. Gummersbach.
-- BECKTOLD --
PRINTING AND BOOK MFG. CO.
ST. LOUIS, MO.
THE LITTLE MAID OF ISRAEL.
BY EMMA HOWARD WIGHT.
CHAPTER I.
In the Land of Israel, not a great distance from the city of Samaria,
dwelt Ezra with his wife, Sarah, and their two children, Isaac and
Leah. The sun was sinking behind the hills as Ezra and Sarah sat before
the door of their humble dwelling resting after the labors of the day.
On a couch in the doorway reclined a youth with a pale, sickly face and
emaciated limbs. Isaac, the eldest-born of Ezra and Sarah, had been
a <DW36> from birth. His eyes, dull and languid from constant pain,
tired and sad, were fixed eagerly upon the wide white | 294.013282 |
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Produced by Lewis Jones
Divine Songs
Attempted in the Easy Language of Children.
By I. Watts.
_Out of the Mouth of Babes and Sucklings thou hast perfected
Praise_. Matt. xxi. 16.
Transcriber's Note.
Throughout, modern numerals have been substituted for their Roman
equivalents.
In Watts' dedication the original capitalisation, italics and
spelling are retained; the aim thereby is to convey more accurately
the flavour of the original.
TO
Mrs. SARAH )
Mrs. MARY _and_) ABNEY,
Mrs. ELIZABETH )
_Daughters of Sir_ THOMAS ABNEY, _Kt. and Alderman of London_.
_My Dear Young Friends_,
Whom I am constrained to love and honour by many Obligations. It was
the generous and condescending Friendship of your Parents under my
weak Circumstances of Health, that brought me to their Country-Seat
for the Benefit of the Air; but it was an Instance of most uncommon
Kindness, to supply me there so chearfully for two Years of Sickness
with the richest Conveniences of Life. Such a Favour requires my
most affectionate Returns of Service to themselves, and to all that
is dear to them; and meer Gratitude demands some solemn and publick
Acknowledgment.
But great Minds have the true Relish and Pleasure of doing Good, and
are content to be unknown.
It is such a silent Satisfaction Sir _Thomas Abney_ enjoys in the
unspeakable Blessings of this Year, that brought our present King to
the Throne: and he permits the World to forget that happy Turn that
was given to the Affairs of the Kingdom by his wise Management in
the Highest Office of the City, whereby the Settlement of the Crown
was so much strengthen'd in the Illustrious Family which now
possesses it. O may the Crown flourish many Years on the Head of our
Soveraign, and may his House possess it to the End of Time, to
secure all Religious and Civil Liberties to the Posterity of those
who have been so zealous to establish this Succession!
The fair and lovely Character your Honoured Father hath acquired by
passing thro' all the chief Offices of the City, and leaving a
Lustre upon them, seems imperfect in his own Esteem, without the
Addition of this Title, _A Succourer and a Friend of the Ministers
of Christ_. And in this part of his Honour the Lady your Mother is
resolved to have an unborrow'd Share, and becomes his daily Rival.
It is to her unwearied Tenderness, and many kind Offices by Night
and Day, in the more violent Seasons of my Indisposition, that
(under God) I own my Life, and Power to write or think. And while I
remember those Hours, I can't forget the cheerful and ready
Attendance of her worthy Sister, her dear Companion and Assistant in
every good Work.
Under the Influence of two such Examples I have also enjoy'd the
Pleasure and Conveniency of your younger Services, according to the
Capacity of your Years; and that with such a Degree of sincere and
hearty Zeal for my Welfare, that you are ready to vie with each
other in the kind Imployment, and assist all you can toward my
Recovery and Usefulness. So that whoever shall reap benefit by any
of my Labours, it is but a reasonable Request, that you share with
me in their Thanks and their Prayers.
But this is | 294.110665 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
GRAY YOUTH
OLIVER ONIONS
NOVELS BY OLIVER ONIONS
IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE EVIDENCE
THE DEBIT ACCOUNT
THE STORY OF LOUIE
GRAY YOUTH
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
NEW YORK
GRAY YOUTH
THE STORY OF A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP
AND A VERY MODERN MARRIAGE
BY
OLIVER ONIONS
Author of "In Accordance with the Evidence,"
"The Debit Account."
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
NEW YORK
_Publishers in America for Hodder & Stoughton_
Copyright, 1913,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1914,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
TO
MARY STEWART
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
Gray Youth is published in England in two volumes under the titles:
The Two Kisses and A Crooked Mile.
CONTENTS
BOOK ONE: A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP--THE TWO KISSES
PART I
CHAPTER PAGE
ARGUMENT 11
I CHEYNE WALK 18
II THE SURPRISE PARTY 33
III THE FASHION STUDIO 52
IV THE MCGRATH 67
V POUNDS AND SHILLINGS 83
VI WOMAN'S WHOLE EXISTENCE 99
VII THE VOICE THAT BREATHED O'ER EDEN 120
PART II
I PENCE 142
II A DAMSEL ERRANT 160
III "BUSINESS AS USUAL" 176
IV "IL FAUT QU' UNE PORTE--" 191
V BOND AND FREE 215
PART III
I THE LEAGUE 243
II "BARRAGE" 263
III EPITHALAMIUM 287
ENTR' ACTE 314
BOOK TWO: A VERY MODERN MARRIAGE--A CROOKED MILE
PART I
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE WITAN 321
II THE POND-ROOM 337
III THE "NOVUM" 352
IV THE STONE WALL 369
V THREE SHIPS 393
VI POLICY 414
PART II
I THE PIGEON PAIR 435
II THE 'VERT 447
III THE IMPERIALISTS 463
IV THE OUTSIDERS 485
V "HOUSE FULL" 503
VI THE SOUL STORM 524
PART III
I LITMUS 553
II BY THE WAY 568
III DE TROP 588
IV GRAY YOUTH 598
V TAILPIECE 620
BOOK ONE
A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP
PART I
ARGUMENT
A girl of seventeen, with a knitted tam-o'-shanter cap and a thick
cable of red-bronze hair hanging down her back, walked along a gallery
| 294.111963 |
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The Golden Key
OR
A HEART’S SILENT WORSHIP
_By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
AUTHOR OF
“Thrice Wedded,” “Little Miss Whirlwind,”
“The Magic Cameo,” “A Hoiden’s
Conquest,” “Mona,” etc.
[Illustration]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
POPULAR BOOKS
By MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
In Handsome Cloth Binding
Price per Volume, 60 Cents
Audrey’s Recompense
Brownie’s Triumph
Churchyard Betrothal, The
Dorothy Arnold’s Escape
Dorothy’s Jewels
Earl Wayne’s Nobility
Edrie’s Legacy
Esther, the Fright
Faithful Shirley
False and The True, The
For Love and Honor
Sequel to Geoffrey’s Victory
Forsaken Bride, The
Geoffrey’s Victory
Girl in a Thousand, A
Golden Key, The
Grazia’s Mistake
Heatherford Fortune, The
Sequel to The Magic Cameo
He Loves Me For Myself
Sequel to the Lily of Mordaunt
Helen’s Victory
Her Faith Rewarded
Sequel to Faithful Shirley
Her Heart’s Victory
Sequel to Max
Heritage of Love, A
Sequel to The Golden Key
His Heart’s Queen
Hoiden’s Conquest, A
How Will It End
Sequel to Marguerite’s Heritage
Lily of Mordaunt, The
Little Marplot, The
Little Miss Whirlwind
Lost, A Pearle
Love’s Conquest
Sequel to Helen’s Victory
Love Victorious, A
Magic Cameo, The
Marguerite’s Heritage
Masked Bridal, The
Max, A Cradle Mystery
Mona
Mysterious Wedding Ring, A
Nameless Dell
Nora
Queen Bess
Ruby’s Reward
Shadowed Happiness, A
Sequel to Wild Oats
Sibyl’s Influence
Stella Roosevelt
That Dowdy
Thorn Among Roses, A
Sequel to a Girl in a Thousand
Threads Gathered Up
Sequel to Virgie’s Inheritance
Thrice Wedded
Tina
Trixy
True Aristocrat, A
True Love Endures
Sequel to Dorothy Arnold’s Escape
True Love’s Reward
Sequel to Mona
True to Herself
Sequel to Witch Hazel
Two Keys
Virgie’s Inheritance
Wedded By Fate
Welfleet Mystery, The
Wild Oats
Winifred’s Sacrifice
Witch Hazel
With Heart so True
Sequel to His Heart’s Queen
Woman’s Faith, A
Sequel to Nameless Dell
For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
52 Duane Street New York
Copyright 1896, 1897, 1905
BY STREET | 294.27981 |
2023-11-16 18:21:58.5614760 | 356 | 7 |
Produced by Sandra Laythorpe
THE DAISY CHAIN, OR ASPIRATIONS
By Charlotte Yonge
PREFACE.
No one can be more sensible than is the Author that the present is an
overgrown book of a nondescript class, neither the "tale" for the young,
nor the novel for their elders, but a mixture of both.
Begun as a series of conversational sketches, the story outran both
the original intention and the limits of the periodical in which it was
commenced; and, such as it has become, it is here presented to those who
have already made acquaintance with the May family, and may be willing
to see more of them. It would beg to be considered merely as what it
calls itself, a Family Chronicle--a domestic record of home events,
large and small, during those years of early life when the character
is chiefly formed, and as an endeavour to trace the effects of those
aspirations which are a part of every youthful nature. That the young
should take one hint, to think whether their hopes and upward-breathings
are truly upwards, and founded in lowliness, may be called the moral of
the tale.
For those who may deem the story too long, and the characters too
numerous, the Author can only beg their pardon for any tedium that they
may have undergone before giving it up. Feb. 22nd, 1856.
THE DAISY CHAIN
PART 1.
CHAPTER I.
Si douce est la Marguerite.--CHAUCER.
"Miss Winter, are you busy? Do you want this afternoon? Can you take a
| 294.581516 |
2023-11-16 18:21:58.6604060 | 7,435 | 8 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Wah-na-gi.]
*THE SILENT CALL*
BY
*EDWIN MILTON ROYLE*
AUTHOR OF "THE SQUAW-MAN," "THE STRUGGLE EVERLASTING,"
"FRIENDS," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK
Published by arrangement with Charles Scribner's Sons
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY
EDWIN MILTON ROYLE
Published May, 1910
To
MY FATHER AND MOTHER
WHOSE YOUNG HEARTS HAVE PRESERVED THE IDEALS OF
OLD-FASHIONED ROMANCE THROUGH FIFTY-THREE YEARS OF
WEDDED LIFE, THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR
April 12th, 1910
*THE SILENT CALL*
*CHAPTER I*
Not even snow is as white as these great masses of congealed foam
floating in a deep blue sky, six thousand feet above the sea, and yet
somewhere out of this deep cool infinity flamed a sun that searched the
mesa until it blistered and cracked. The alkali plain quivered and
burst into spirals of heat that were visible to the eye. A cloud of
dust hung like white smoke above the fiery trail over which a band of
Indian police was slowly and painfully crawling. This dust is very
penetrating and very irritating. The reins hung limp on the ponies'
necks and their heads swung low as though they looked for a place to
sink down.
As far as the eye could see you would have known that they were Indians.
The uniform furnished them by the government is a dark purplish blue
with a red piping down the trousers. It's a plain affair, but each
Indian wears it with a difference and adds a decorative touch that is
his own, and that is always pictorial and Indian. One had encircled his
broad-brimmed black hat with a wide purple ribbon, lapped by a narrow
pink ribbon. A yellow neckerchief rested on his green silk shirt, and
about his waist was a sash braided of many worsteds, and,
strange to say, the result was pleasing if rather brilliant. Another had
a pink feather apparently plucked from the tail of the domestic duster
tied loosely to his hat, which lent to the changing airs a graceful note
of color. Some wore cowboy boots, yellow and elaborately stitched in
fancy designs; others adhered to the ever beautiful moccasins. Most of
them wore brown or drab cowboy hats, but made them their own by
beautifully beaded hat-bands. Here and there gleamed gauntlets heavy
with a stiff beaded deer which seemed trying to jump away from the
cuffs, but couldn't because it was so obviously and eternally stiff and
beaded. Some had beaded sleeve bands and all sported guns hung in
holsters elaborately outlined in brass. No one wore a coat except a
tall elderly man with glasses who, in spite of the torture, felt that
his out-of-date captain's uniform enhanced his straight unbending
dignity.
The police had no prisoner in charge, nor even an air of expectancy, or
remote or possible interest. Horse and man were as near sleep as it was
possible to be in the quivering heat. The pack animals were loaded with
surveyors' instruments, and there was evidently nothing more warlike or
strenuous on foot than to creep across the table-land and reach the
Agency. To the close observer even at a distance there was a difference
in the figures as they straggled through the sage-brush. The man who
rode behind was well set up and sat his horse like a cavalryman. He wore
khaki that fitted well his close-knit and athletic figure, and he
carried the suggestion of authority. He was the chief of Indian police.
"Calthorpe," as he called himself, hadn't explained himself and nothing
had as yet explained him. He had been from the first a mild mystery to
his neighbors, in a country where neighbors were few and far between,
and as he had a gift for silence, and it did not appear to be any one's
business in particular to unravel him, a task which might, too, involve
risk as well as trouble, he had remained a mystery. Oscar Wilde once
expressed great astonishment at finding a miner in Leadville reading
Darwin's "Origin of Species," but in this Western country one ought to
be surprised at nothing.
On closer observation, there was a certain resemblance between the
leader and his men. He might have been one of them with his swarthy
skin and coarse black hair, but that a startling pair of frank blue eyes
flashed out from their dark surroundings. They were friendly eyes set in
a strong, immobile face. He glanced at his companions, at the burning
plateau, then at his companions again.
"And they expect the hunter and warrior to turn farmer in a country like
this," he thought. A horned toad startled by the intrusion darted
across the trail from the shelter of one sage-brush to another--"In a
country that raises sage-brush, horned toads, and hell," and he laughed
softly to himself. "The Indian only gets the land the white man
wouldn't have." Then his eyes fell on the pack mules, and again the
blue eyes gleamed with amusement. "And sometimes valuable minerals are
found on land the white man refused, and then he wants even the
God-forsaken remnant he promised by solemn treaty never to take from the
red man and his children's children." "God-forsaken" was a stock phrase
for that country and Calthorpe reflected, "And it _is_ the last word in
desolation, the last word, but _I_ like it. Yes, I like it." And he was
amused with himself.
He didn't understand it or try to, but something in him responded to the
crimson and yellow glory of the cactus flower, the purple of the
thistle, the dull red of the "Indian's paintbrush," or, as the mountain
children call them, "bloody noses." He knew a secret joy when the pale
greens of the sage-brush and greasewood, and the live shimmer of the
scrub oak were relieved by the larkspur, wild roses, the white columbine
and sago lillies, and the flashing black and white of the magpie's wing,
and somehow he knew that these things were more appealing because set in
wide spaces and in silence and desolation.
By chance or telepathy something like this was passing through the mind
of another, a man in middle life who sat in front of a tent pitched on
the bank of a clear mountain stream that separated the Agency from the
rest of the Reservation. He was a big framed man, stoop shouldered,
with the face of a scholar and a saint. His clothes hung loosely on
him, and he sat as though it would be an exertion for him to rise. Near
by was the blasted trunk of a hollow tree. It had been fired by the
cigarette of some careless smoker, and it was afire within and
smouldering. A look at the man's pensive eyes showed that he too was
afire within and smouldering.
"Fine boy, strange boy," he mused. Then he caught the vibration of the
thought of the young chief of police who was riding toward him on the
dusty trail.
"Some sins," he thought, "are magnificent. Milton's villain is superb,
but"--and his eyes rested on the rather pretty cottage of the agent
nestling in a grove of trees below--"small sins are really inexcusable."
Rather an unusual reflection for a clergyman, who ought surely to be
irreconcilable to sin in any form. But then he _was_ unusual, the Rev.
Dr. John McCloud. "We send these wild children to our great cities, and
show them how hopeless it would be to resist our countless millions, but
we never show them righteousness. We only make the Indian hopeless.
And who of the countless millions knows or cares what happens to this
bewildered anachronism, this forlorn child of a day that is gone? With
really generous and noble purposes we hand him over to the spoiler, and
so a great people becomes _particeps criminis_ in petty larcenies and
other pitiful and ignoble wrongs. I wish I could awaken our people to
their privileges, their divine opportunities--not so much for the sake
of the Indian, but for our own sakes." And he coughed and sank deeper
into his camp chair. "Why should a great, mighty, enlightened people
stoop to crush such obviously harmless and helpless ones? Is it because
they have no votes, no lobby in Washington, are unorganized, obscure,
and ignorant?" And his eyes drooped to the book open on his lap and
rested on these figures: "7,000,000 families on a medium wage of $436 a
year, and 5,000,000 farmers with an average income of $350 a year.
Which means that 60,000,000 people must think before buying a penny
newspaper, that they must save and plan for months to get a yearly
holiday, that sickness means debt or charity, that things that make for
comfort or beauty in a home are out of the question."
"Yes, yes," he reflected, "that is it. Why should we trouble to save
the Indian? We are not even troubled to save our own. At least the Red
Man has the fresh air, the light, the sun," and his mind wandered back
to the crowded cities, with their gaunt men, slatternly women, and
pallid children.
Between this middle-aged man sitting under the flap of his tent and the
young man riding across the desert there had been from the first, quick,
instantaneous sympathy and understanding. And now the thought of each
jumped from the general to the particular.
"She's a fine woman," clicked the instrument in the elder man's head.
"It's very tragic, her situation. I wonder if the boy realizes its full
significance? I wonder if he knows his own peril?"
"She's a fine woman," was the response in the younger man's
consciousness. "I must speak to the agent about her. I've given her
such protection as I could, but he _is_ the man; it is _his_ duty. Duty
isn't Ladd's strong point, but perhaps I can ram it gently down his
throat. If he doesn't do it, it will lead to trouble," and he looked
grim and his teeth set.
He reined in his horse for a moment to take in the beauties of the view.
His men had already descended from the mesa into the huge basin that
opened out suddenly at their feet, disclosing a dreary waste that was
beautiful and absolute, for not a dwarfed tree or a sage-brush or a twig
lived there. The wind and rain had cut and carved the hills and mounds
into strange and sometimes grotesque shapes, and merged and blended the
sands, so that they presented versions of the spectrum, sand
rainbows, giving brilliancy and color to this dead desolation.
The Bad Lands were buttressed by a ring of sandstone battlements,
twisted, tortured, pock-marked, broken away here and there in huge
masses, weird and fantastic. Time had painted them the Indian colors--a
dull red at the top blending into a faded yellow, then half-way to the
valley the dirty drab of earth, looking as if it had been polished with
sandpaper, escarped to the plain. He had crossed this trail many times,
but never failed to pause on this brink to wonder and admire. It was
lucky for the chief of police that just at that moment he raised his hat
to wipe his dripping brow, for the report of a rifle rang out, and
reverberated again and again among the hills, pockets, and gullies of
the Bad Lands. Instantly every policeman sat erect, unslung his rifle
from the pommel of his saddle, but with unanimity that told of unusual
discipline, they turned and waited for their commander's orders. The
latter made a gesture which in the sign language meant "Wait." The men
deployed and waited, their eyes sweeping the broken ground before them.
Calthorpe looked at his hat, and laughed as he replaced it on his head.
"By Jove," he muttered; "he picked his place. What a mark I was on this
sky-line! Don't know how he could have missed me!"
When he had rejoined his men in the valley below, he called to his
interpreter:
"Chavanaugh, I think these boys savey my English pretty well by now, but
you make sure; explain it again to them when I am not by. You savey
Wah-na-gi?"
Chavanaugh signified that he did.
"Well, I want some of my men always near her, pretty close by. Good
woman, Wah-na-gi. Pretty bad men all time round loose. No father, no
mother, Wah-na-gi! No harm come to Wah-na-gi, savey? Bad come to
Wah-na-gi? Well, you kill 'em, kill 'em; anybody; me too! I do wrong,
_me_ too. You savey me?"
Chavanaugh paused for a long while, then wiped his brow with painful
deliberation, and they rode on.
*CHAPTER II*
With a whoop and on the run, they dashed into the water, throwing the
spray high into the air, and the weary animals buried their noses in the
stream and drank so greedily that the water ran out of their nostrils,
the men leaning over and drinking out of their hands, and throwing it
over their heads and faces.
"Hello, Calthorpe," joyously called McCloud from the bank above.
"You're late."
Calthorpe made no reply, but having allowed his horse another gulp, with
quirt and spur drove him through the stream to the further bank.
"Hold my horse, will you?" throwing him the reins. "And don't let him
get back into the stream."
"What in the world are you doing?"
But to this the young man did not trouble to reply, but tore his clothes
off as if they burnt him.
"See here, you can't bathe here at this ford; some of the women might
come this way."
"Well, you stand there and shoo them away."
The other smiled good-humoredly as Calthorpe lurched down the bank above
the ford and slid into the water with complete abandon.
"Oh, Lord," he sighed, "how heavenly."
Standing Bear "river," except in the spring, was a "crik." The young
man lay where he fell, on a beautiful clean pebbly bed, with just enough
water to cover him, eyes closed, blissfully inert.
"Bless the chap who invented water," he murmured feebly. "Parson, my
throat's lined with alkali dust; say a few words for me to fit the
occasion, won't you?"
A beautiful smile lit up the pallid face of the preacher as he said
simply: "Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and forget not all His benefits,
who preserveth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with loving
kindness and tender mercy."
"That's it. That's me. Thanks!--I could drink it dry, _this_; but I
mustn't." Then he managed energy enough to spurt a mouthful into the
air. "If I put this into my boiler I'd explode. I'm taking it in
through the skin. See the steam? Now if I had a 'horse's neck' with
cracked ice--oh, a yard long, and a soup plate full of Maillard's ice
cream and the Savoy Hotel orchestra to play to me, and I could eat and
drink and sleep at the same time--but it's pretty good as it is."
"We've been expecting you for the last two or three days." McCloud had
descended to the brink of the stream and was sitting under a willow with
a towel in his hand. "Mr. Ladd's been getting nervous about you."
At the mention of the agent's name the lids of the young man's eyes
dropped half over his eyes in a peculiar way.
"Yes? What's up?"
"A powwow over the asphalt lands! all the interests are to be
represented. You're just in time. The agent has been very anxious to
see you before it took place."
The young man sat up with a sudden accession of life. "Yes, I ought to
see the agent before that. All right, I'm alive again, and as good as
new," and he shook himself and clambered out on the bank, catching the
towel McCloud tossed to him.
"Thanks. This _is_ luxury. One dries by evaporation in this climate."
"Mr. Ladd seems to think your report of the highest importance in the
settlement of this dispute."
"Well, what I don't know now about the asphalt lands isn't worth
knowing. If information is what is wanted, I'm dripping with it.
There!" as he threw the towel aside, "I'm not clothed, but I'm in my
right mind, and I am a human being once more." Offering his brawny hand
to the older man--"How is the good doctor, eh?"
"Oh, not complaining, my boy; not complaining."
The other was quick to detect the subtle shade of over-emphasis, and
immediately met it with a jocularity and buoyancy that did not
altogether conceal its anxiety.
"By Jove! Why, you're getting fat. I'll wager you're gaining every
day!" And then realizing that his tone had not carried complete
conviction with it, he hurriedly began to throw his dusty clothes on.
"No, my dear fellow," said the clergyman with a plaintive smile and
sinking into the camp chair before his tent. "No, I'm losing,
gradually, but steadily losing every day."
"Nonsense," laughed the other with a determination not to be impressed.
"Nonsense. Look at _me_. Almost forgotten I ever had a cough. When
you've been here as long as I have----"
"You came in time. I'm afraid I came a little late--just a little
late." And the smouldering eyes dreamed off to the snow-capped
mountains in the distance.
"Better grub, that's all you need, John."
Calthorpe was not a demonstrative man and McCloud realized the affection
that the use of his first name implied.
"You're coming to live with _me_. I'll make a new man of you."
"You?" interjected the other with some surprise. "You and Big Bill
haven't enough room for yourselves, much less for----"
"No, not at this exact moment, but, as you public speakers would say, we
are on the verge of momentous changes, fellow citizens. Say nothing,
look wise, and wait for the dinner-bell. And when my ship comes in, why
you sit at the captain's table--savey? Ladd doesn't cater to you."
A shade of annoyance crossed the brow of the elder man.
"The agent has been exceedingly kind to me since I've been here."
"I know," protested Calthorpe. "You brought letters of introduction
from the Secretary of War, and----"
"Who was one of my former parishioners, that's all."
"That's all," mocked the impertinent youngster, "and other people of
influence, social and political, and you have been ostensibly the
agent's honored guest, but Ladd likes you, John; yes, he likes you, just
about as much as a burglar likes dodging a search-light. The fact of
the matter is that you're an infernal nuisance around here, and when I
get ready I'll have no difficulty in kidnapping you and having you all
to myself." And the blue eyes laughed impudently into the obvious
disapproval of the grave eyes opposite.
"You ought not to make me listen to reflections on my host. By the way,
he has asked me to preside at the conference this afternoon."
"Really?" said the other seriously. "What have _you_ to do with it?"
"That is just it. Presumably a disinterested party may help along."
"I'm rather sorry."
"Why?"
"Well, they're a rough lot, quick, passionate, not too scrupulous----"
"Why, this is a peace affair, isn't it?"
"Yes," dryly; "so make every son-of-a-gun disarm before he becomes a
part of it."
With this the young man, now dressed, flung into his saddle with an
alert grace that spoke favorably of the regeneration of his bath.
Perhaps the most significant thing about this interview was that neither
had spoken of what was uppermost in the mind of each--Wah-na-gi!
"Hello!" exclaimed the chief of police as he settled in his saddle;
"here come McShay and his pals. Howdy, boys," he shouted down to the
three men who had halted their horses in mid-stream. "By the way,
McShay, I've just had a chat with our chairman. Perhaps you'd like a
word with him before we confer this afternoon."
"Sure," called back a thick-set man with a meaty face; "sure, only ain't
got nuthin' to say nobody couldn't hear."
"Well, so long, see you later," and Calthorpe whirled his pinto and shot
off to the agency. Pinto is the local word for piebald. There is taste
in horse-flesh just as much as in neckties or hose, and evidently the
owner's taste was a little loud. At all events, he shared the Indian
prejudice in favor of the calico horse. The Indians regard the pinto as
"good medicine," good luck.
"Glad to see you, Mr. McShay," said the preacher heartily as the burly
figure of McShay disengaged itself from his saddle in a lumbering way.
In the saddle McShay was at home, but for purposes of embarking or
disembarking, his weight was badly distributed.
"You know Orson Lee and 'Silent' Smith, don't you?" said the Irishman.
"If we had a church over our way these two scoundrels would be deacons
or whatever you call the fellers that's on the inside of the inside
ring, you can bet on that. They're two of our most influential
citizens. Couldn't pass your wickiup without sayin' hello."
The preacher greeted the two awkward cattlemen and made them feel at
ease at once.
"I hope you won't ever pass by my tent. I should feel hurt if you did.
I'm rather lonesome at times and it's a great pleasure to see friends.
Sit down, won't you?"
He got another camp stool for McShay, and Lee and Smith sat on a
decaying log near by. McShay had already noted that the gaunt figure
was a bit gaunter, so he said with pleased surprise,
"Why, you're lookin' well, Parson--you're lookin' fine."
Like most active men forced by ill-health to think too often of
themselves, McCloud disliked any allusion to his condition or
appearance, but he replied gently and without irritation,
"Thank you, Mr. McShay, I've nothing to complain of."
"That's good," said the other heartily. "Have a torch? You needn't
hesitate. I smoke 'em myself," he added with a laugh, as he offered the
preacher a cigar. "Wouldn't throw 'em away on them longhorns," with a
jerk of his head toward Smith and Lee. "They just's leave smoke
alfalfa."
"No, Mr. McShay, thank you. I used to smoke a little, very mild cigars,
but had to give up even that dissipation."
"Honest?" said the other, with an awkward smile, almost incredulous.
McShay was built after the bulldog style of architecture, and with a
physical equipment and adjustment that left such things as ill-health in
the category of objective phenomena, but he had a sort of respect for
it, as for a form of culture he didn't and couldn't possess. He had
always been a smoker since he could remember. The only objection he had
to sleep was that no one had yet discovered a method of smoking during
sleep. He had sometimes felt that even this difficulty might be
overcome if he had time to "go after it." McShay was a man who was in
the habit of getting things he "went after." The fact that he couldn't
at all measure the dimensions of the preacher's sacrifice gave him a
painful impression, and he shot a covert but searching look at the
other, and then he said with uneasy gentleness:
"We sure got a superior brand of climate out here, parson, but you
mustn't git discouraged if the improvement don't come by special
delivery. Takes a little coaxin' sometimes, you know."
"Oh, I'm sure I am as well here as I should be anywhere, Mr. McShay."
"Sure," and the cattleman was strangely conscious of a peculiar feeling
in his throat, and he coughed, spat, sat down, and became unduly busy
with his cigar.
"You know," he said, changing the subject, "it's some spunky of you to
preside at these festivities to-day, Parson. Ladd says you're goin' to
take the chair."
"Why, you don't imagine there will be any trouble, do you?" said McCloud
lightly.
"No, don't know as there will. You bein' in the saddle will have a
steadyin' and refinin' inflooence, because you're respected round here,
parson, and that's sayin' a good deal for a preacher. Most of the
salvation experts we've been used to has inspired practical jokes."
"I'm glad the presumption is in my favor," said the preacher, greatly
amused, "but I didn't suppose any of my neighbors even knew that I was
here."
"Oh, it gits around, Doc; amazin' how it gits around. Don't know as
we're much smarter'n ordinary folks--maybe we are, but any way we're on.
We got you tagged. We're not only onto your present game, but we know
your record. We got it pretty straight that you had to let go your holt
in Minneapolis just when the cards was a comin' fine, just when you was
the acknowledged pulpit champion of the Middle West, with standin' room
only at every performance. Say, it must have been tough, just when you
had the Old Boy licked, just needin' an easy little punch to put him
out; say, it must have been tough to have to throw up the sponge and
crawl under the ropes."
The preacher smiled. "It _was_ a bit tough, Mr. McShay."
Then, realizing that he might have called up painful memories, McShay
hastened to add:
"But you're all right, Parson; you're grit clean through. Don't suppose
you could throw a lariat or pull a gun--parsons ain't supposed to be up
in the useful things, are they?--but we like you. We like you, and the
feller as don't has got to explain it to us or put us out of business.
Personally, we ain't no better'n we ought to be, don't profess no
religion. We're on the make; we're in the little game of grab along with
all the rest of 'em, but we know the spiritual goods when we see 'em,
and you can touch us for anything we've got--in the pocket, on the
cards, or in the fryin' pan, and at any spot in the road. Now, I can't
make it stronger than that, can I? I guess I've about expressed the
prevailing sentiment," and he turned to his two companions for the
approval of which he felt serenely certain, as befits an admitted
leader.
Neither Lee nor Smith had spoken up to this time, and even now neither
felt called upon to pass upon the subject of the great man's remarks.
That was obviously superfluous.
"Say, Silent," said Lee to that sphinx, with open admiration, "ain't he
a wonder? Ain't Mike got a cinch on the language? Why, when he wants a
word all he's got to do is to whistle to it, and it'll come up and eat
out of his hand. He's got the English language broke to single or
double harness--in fact, he kin make it do tricks like a circus hoss.
Say, Parson, Mike's a orator."
"Oh, git out," protested McShay, obviously pleased. "You're locoed."
"He sure is all right," insisted Lee.
"I'm sure of that," said the clergyman heartily, glad that the centre of
interest had been shifted to the other.
"Oh, shucks," laughed McShay, with good-humored toleration. "When it
comes to savin' the nation or plantin' a prominent citizen, I kin
sprinkle a little language over the occasion, but I ain't a braggin'
about it, Orson, before a feller as is a artist. I have the savin' grace
to know where I come in, and it's at the back door, son. I daresay,
Parson, you've heard that I keep a saloon over at 'Calamity'?"
"Yes, I've heard so," said the other simply, without a trace of
pharisaism even in the tone of his voice.
"Well, any time you want to keep your hand in at the preachin' game,
come right along, and I'll personally guarantee the character of the
proceedings. They tell me that as a preacher you're a stampede."
The big eyes in the pallid face glowed for a moment, then they suffused
with melancholy. There was a sensible pause before he said:
"Thank you, Mr. McShay; thank you. Perhaps I'll take advantage of your
offer some Sunday, but at present I've had to give up preaching: it
seems to exhaust my vitality." He paused for a second and then added
with a shy little smile, as if he were confessing to a fault: "I like to
preach, too, and, as you say, it's been 'tough' to be compelled to give
it up, but, after all," suddenly alarmed at the thought that he was
bidding for sympathy, "living is more important than preaching, isn't
it?"
McShay filled in the pause, that threatened to be too obvious, by
jerking out his Waterbury.
"Hello, gitting on to the time! Guess we'll be moseying along. Well,
Parson, I've expressed myself pretty free, ain't I? And in something of
a complimentary vein, not with a view to inflooincin' your attitude in
this approachin' conference. Mind you, I ain't above doin' it if I
could. I don't do it 'cause I know it wouldn't go, that's all," and he
laughed generously as he hoisted himself into the saddle. McShay was a
man with few illusions. He fancied he was pretty familiar with the
ordinary phases of human nature, and his code of morality was a working
code; it would bear comparison, he felt sure, with that of the average
citizen, and it wasn't so high as to be inconvenient. He had never felt
called upon to experiment with a code obviously theoretical. He wouldn't
hesitate at cards or in a trade to cheat one who was engaged in trying
to cheat him. In fact he looked upon it as a joyous and holy duty to
skin the skinner. He was not inexperienced in the ways of the world.
He knew more of Doctor McCloud than that worthy man dreamed of, for when
a very young man he had been a policeman in St. Paul and during the
uncomfortable times following a reform upheaval had felt obliged to
leave that saintly city. Indeed, he had brought about the upheaval by
his own obstinacy, for there are degrees of graft, and the young
Irish-American wouldn't violate his own wholly illogical standards of
what was fair or decent any more than he would accept the standards of
the too-good. He had come into his own in the cattle country, opened a
saloon, became a political leader, a boss, and a cattle king. He had
prospered. He was loved by his friends and feared by his enemies, and
he was fond of both. And when the cowboys on one of their summer
round-ups found something that looked like coal or jet, and which,
unlike coal or jet | 294.680446 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
PAPERS AND PROCEEDINGS
OF THE
TWENTY-THIRD GENERAL MEETING
OF THE
AMERICAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
HELD AT
WAUKESHA, WISCONSIN
JULY 4-10
1901
PUBLISHED BY THE
AMERICAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
1901
CONTENTS.
TITLE. AUTHOR. PAGE.
Address of the President _Henry J. Carr_ 1
What may be done for libraries by the city _T. L. Montgomery_ 5
What may be done for libraries by the state _E. A. Birge_ 7
What may be done for libraries by the nation _Herbert Putnam_ 9
The trusteeship of literature--I. _George Iles_ 16
" " " " II. _R. T. Ely_ 22
Book copyright _Thorvald Solberg_ 24
The relationship of publishers, booksellers
and librarians _W. Millard Palmer_ 31
Library buildings _W. R. Eastman_ 38
The relationship of the architect to the
librarian _J. L. Mauran _ 43
The departmental library _J. T. Gerould_ 46
Suggestions for an annual list of American}
theses for the degree of doctor of } _W. W. Bishop_ 50
philosophy }
Opportunities _Gratia Countryman_ 52
Some principles of book and picture selection _G. E. Wire_ 54
Book reviews, book lists, and articles on }
children's reading: Are they of practical} _Caroline M. Hewins_ 57
value to the children's librarian? }
Books for children:
I. Fiction _Winifred L. Taylor_ 63
II. Fairy tales _Abby L. Sargent_ 66
III. Science _Ella A. Holmes_ 69
Bulletin work for children _Charlotte E.
Wallace_ 72
Reference work with children _Harriet H. Stanley_ 74
Vitalizing the relation between the library
and the school:
I. The school _May L. Prentice_ 78
II. The library _Irene Warren_ 81
Opening a children's room _Clara W. Hunt_ 83
Report on gifts and bequests, 1900-1901 _G. W. Cole_ 87
Report of the A. L. A. Publishing Board _J. Le Roy
Harrison_ 103
Proceedings 107-141
First Session: Public meeting 107
Second Session 107-118
Secretary's report 107
Treasurer's report and necrology 108
Report of Trustees of Endowment Fund 111
Report of Co-operation Committee 113
Report of Committee on Foreign Documents 113
Report of Committee on Title-pages and Indexes of
Periodical Volumes 114
Report of Committee on "International Catalogue of
Scientific Literature" 116
Memorial to John Fiske 117
Third Session 118-125
Report of Committee on Public Documents 118
Report of Committee on Co-operation with N. E. A. 120
Report of Committee on International Co-operation 122
Report of Committee on Library Training 124
Collection and cataloging of early
newspapers. _W. Beer_ 124
Some principles of book and picture selection 124
Fourth Session 125-127
Some experiences in foreign libraries. _Mary W. Plummer_ 125
From the reader's point of view, and the era of the
placard. _J. K. Hosmer_ 127
Fifth Session 127-137
Report on gifts and bequests 127
Report of A. L. A. Publishing Board 127
Invitation from L. A. U. K. 128
Report of Committee on Handbook of American libraries 128
By-laws 129
Memorial to John Fiske 130
Co-operative list of children's books 130
Printed catalog cards 131
Book copyright 131
Trusteeship of literature 131
Relationship of publishers, booksellers and librarians 134
Sixth Session 137-140
Relationship of publishers, booksellers and
librarians, _continued_ 137
Seventh Session 141-142
Election of officers 141
Report of Committee on Resolutions 141
College and Reference Section 142-145
Catalog Section 146-162
Section for Children's Librarians 163-170
Round Table Meeting: State Library Commissions and
Traveling Libraries 171-183
Round Table Meeting: Work of State Library Associations
and Women's Clubs in Advancing Library Interests 183-195
Trustees' Section 196
Round Table Meeting: Professional Instruction in
Bibliography 197-205
Transactions of Council and Executive Board 206-208
Elementary Institute 208
Illinois State Library School Alumni Association 208
The social side of the Waukesha conference
_Julia T. Rankin_ 209
Officers and Committees 211
Attendance register 212
Attendance summaries. _Nina E. Browne_ 218
CONFERENCE OF LIBRARIANS.
_WAUKESHA, WISCONSIN._
JULY 4-10, 1901.
BEING A LIBRARIAN: ADDRESS OF THE PRESIDENT.
BY HENRY J. CARR, _Librarian Scranton (Pa.) Public Library_.
In your presence, and in addressing you to-night as presiding officer, I
feel to a far greater extent than I can express in words the high honor
that has been conferred in each instance upon all who from time to time
have been chosen to serve as a president of this particular association.
There is in this present age, to be sure, no lack of those popular and
peculiar entities termed associations--associations of many kinds, and
for almost every conceivable purpose. Throughout the entire continent
there exist few, perhaps none, whose history, objects, and work, have
warranted a more justifiable pride in being a member thereof, than is
found in being a member of the American Library Association.
It may here be said that conditions and circumstances have been
favorable to the success of the A. L. A.; not the least of which has
been the faithful loyalty of its individual members. We realize, too,
that even time has dealt leniently with it, upon noting that of the 64
members who attended its first meeting, held at Philadelphia twenty-five
years ago, but 18 have died, and that 20 persons are yet included in its
membership list out of the 69 who joined the association in 1876, that
initial year. Some of that original number, much to our gratification,
are present with us at this 23d general meeting.
Considering its purely voluntary nature, the migratory holding of its
successive meetings in different parts of the land, and the notable
avoidance of fads, or any tendency towards selfish ends that might
otherwise mark its united efforts, it becomes almost a matter of
surprise that so many persons have unfalteringly kept up their
allegiance from year to year ever since the time of their joining the
association. But, as a matter of fact, the A. L. A. has at no time
fallen off in its total membership; and at this date it numbers nearly
one thousand contributing members paying dues for the current year.
The American Library Association has now attained a period of
twenty-five years in its history--a quarter of a century. During that
time, in the addresses given at its general meetings, as well as in the
multiplicity of noteworthy and valuable papers contributed to its
Proceedings, and the sundry publications devoted to library interests,
it would appear as if there must have been presented almost every
conceivable phase of library thought and sentiment. Can anything new be
said, or old ideas placed in a new light, so as to be worthy of hearing
and attention at this time? I fear not, except as some lessons may be
drawn from the experience of one's past work, perhaps, that shall serve
to aid yet others who are to tread like paths in life.
I beg, therefore, that you will bear with me for a short space of time
while I give expression to some thoughts drawn from the experience of
myself and others while Being a Librarian.
Without now restricting their application to particular phases of
librarianship, let us at the outset consider them as relating to any and
all conditions of it as a vocation. "Why did you take up library work?"
is a question not infrequently asked. To that query various answer may
be given, according to the individual views of the persons replying.
Perhaps one general reason, that in a certain way has had its
unconscious influence upon many of us, is best stated in the following
characteristic passage from the "Book-hunter:"
"To every man of our Saxon race endowed with full health and strength,
there is committed the custody of a restless demon, for which he is
doomed to find ceaseless excitement, either in honest work, or some less
profitable or more mischievous occupation. Countless have been the
projects of man to open up for this fiend fields of exertion great
enough for the absorption of its tireless energies, and none of them is
more hopeful than the great world of books, if the demon is docile
enough to be coaxed into it."
Since Burton's day the "great world of books" has taken on many phases
of which he never dreamed. And we, as librarians, may reasonably believe
that if not entirely a part and parcel of it, we are nevertheless called
upon to deal with that "world" in almost every form, and are ourselves
more or less important factors in it. We may not be called upon to adopt
the "strenuous life," or seek to impart it to the conduct and activities
of others. But necessarily we are and must be accustomed to "doing
things"; and, by that very doing, will in some degree, each in our own
field, inspire and influence others also.
Furthermore, do we not find _our_ "restless demon of work" more
agreeably inclined and contentedly occupied in the library field than in
other lines of life which we may have previously entered into? I, for
one, certainly think so, even though we may not have had that idea in
mind at the outset, or when making the change. And, too, that we derive
a certain feeling of encouragement akin to inspiration, that in itself
renders _us_ contented and happy, when responding to the varied demands
on our time and energy that are entailed by our positions as librarians.
That is half the battle, the rest being but a question of persistence in
the application of means and ability.
Therefore, in the consoling words of one of Elbert Hubbard's salient
sayings: "Blessed is that man who has found his work."
It is not the purpose of these present remarks to set forth particularly
the compensations in a librarian's work; neither the advantages or
disadvantages, the opportunities or drawbacks therein. Those factors
have all been frequently and well discussed in prior years, by some of
our well-known associates and various contributors to library
literature. I desire, rather, to suggest some features and relationships
connected with our work as a profession, from which an occasional lesson
may be taken, and possibly a word of encouragement, if such be needed.
First of all, is librarianship a profession? Does it possess the
characteristics that make it such; and is that work more nearly
professional than otherwise, which lies at its hands to be done? Some
such queries were propounded to me by the president of a state library
association one day last fall, as we were journeying together to an
annual meeting. He, himself, had been a teacher and an educational
administrator for a number of years before becoming a librarian; and of
the recognized professional standing of his _former_ occupation there
could be no doubt.
My first, and off-hand, answer was to the effect that librarianship
certainly has many professional features, even though its being a true
and undoubted profession in every respect might be disputed now and
then. Going further into this question of professional status, however,
it will be found that the literature of views and discussions thereon,
pro and con, is by no means small. For one of us to now express a doubt
that librarianship, as a whole, is a profession, would be almost
presumptuous; and I, for one, do not propose to do so. My thesis, so far
as it relates to the present remarks, is in affirmation of the claim;
not only that it is a profession--our profession--but really the
profession of professions!
All other professions now depend to a considerable extent upon that of
the librarian for the custodianship of their literature, without whose
care much of it might be lost. We may not be able to transmit to future
eras such enduring records of antiquity as has been done by the
librarian of old in his collection of clay tablets (which now serve to
tell us of the affairs of mankind as transacted thousands of years ago),
but it is certain that we are doing our part towards making modern
literature available in disseminating it, and in preserving it as far as
lies in our power.
Cotemporaneous with the organization of this association Melvil Dewey
made the following decided and well-supported assertion: "The time has
at last come when a librarian, may, without assumption, speak of his
occupation as a profession." I cite Mr. Dewey's words, not as
necessarily conclusive, but because he has ever been an active and
constant supporter of that doctrine in both his work as a librarian, as
a noted stimulator of the library movement, and as an originator of
professional instruction of other librarians. Similar enthusiastic and
persistent efforts on the part of librarians generally may do much
towards the furtherance of such features, and the consequent development
of librarianship as a profession in all its aspects.
Let us now consider for a few moments some features of resemblance and
diversity between the library profession and others quite as well or
better known. It has been said that the library exists chiefly for the
use of its patrons, and that the librarian is necessarily and
essentially a servant. Therefore the librarian must, of equal necessity,
earn a livelihood or receive compensation of some kind for his services.
All of which, in the main, is true of the professions generally, as will
be seen from a brief statement of circumstances.
Doctors, lawyers, accountants, engineers, artists, etc., are engaged by
and receive pay from their respective clients. The clergy are supported
by contributions of their church members or from denominational
resources. Teachers in the public schools are paid from public taxes,
while those of private schools, or endowed institutions, receive their
compensation from various sources.
The clergy and teachers, as a rule, like most librarians, no matter how
willing or how well qualified, are under the further necessity of
obtaining a "call," or position, as a prerequisite to the exercise of
their professional faculties. In that respect they are at a disadvantage
in comparison with those practitioners in the other professions, already
named, who can go to any locality, solicit clients and seek business
opportunities, with reasonable assurance of obtaining both according to
place and the circumstances of supply and demand.
In some of the professions, both the so-called "learned" and the
practical ones, there have been developed certain well recognized
differentiations and specializations of professional work. Those lines
have usually been taken up in response to what has seemed a reasonable
demand for them; and in their exercise have not unfrequently brought
both reputation and corresponding remuneration to the specialists.
Possibly the time has arrived for doing much more of that nature in the
library profession than has yet been customary. And there are those
among us, possessing a due amount of working experience coupled with
knowledge of other and allied affairs, who might now do well to devote
themselves to some special features of library enterprise as a matter of
desirable business opportunity. Some from the library schools, and a few
others, have gone out as "organizers," and found more or less of a field
for the exercise of their limited special qualifications. The field
ought to be a growing one, it would seem, if recourse to incompetent aid
is carefully avoided.
But the offices of "consulting librarianship," while possessing many
desirable and much needed features, do not appear to be practised as a
specific function. Something of the kind has been urged in past years,
to be sure, and several well-known librarians did undertake at different
times to supply such services. Sooner or later, however, each one was
persuaded into a more certain, or better compensated, and permanent,
position of local librarianship, and thereupon abandoned that special
line of work.
In this era of the establishment of so many new libraries, small and
great, and of the gift of hundreds of buildings for such purposes, there
is a decided need for the effective services which a consulting
librarian might render; and this to a greater extent than is yet fully
understood or appreciated. Lacking such, some librarians and more
library trustees work too often at a disadvantage. Many more, too, are
burdened with repeated calls for information which more properly ought
to be obtained from an independent expert; one so situated as to take an
unbiased view of circumstances and equally able to give advice best
suited to the particular case in hand. Serious mistakes are sometimes
made in the preliminary details of new library enterprises that might
be just as easily avoided by the employment of a competent and paid
professional adviser.
Turning now to another side of our subject, and considering the relation
of the individual librarians rather than of the profession as a class, a
few words upon personal actions may not be out of place. A librarian's
position is usually of a public or semi-public nature; ability for its
duties is implied; and the compensation received is for present services
as a rule, rather than as a reward of merit. In order that the library
shall perform all that is expected of it, not only in being to some
extent an ever-running machine but equally in respect to its recognized
higher functions, there must be the application of watchful care,
constant attention, foresight, and unremitting work. The direction of
all of which, and perhaps much of its actual execution, must depend upon
the person placed in charge of the institution as its librarian.
It is true that, having a well-trained body of assistants, a library may
be able to run on for a time in the prolonged absence of, or when
lacking, a chief; because impetus and the effects of past direction are
not lost at once, provided that no demoralization has taken place. But
it is not a safe policy to allow a library, or other working institution
that depends largely upon the work of trained employees for its
effectiveness, to go long at a time without the presence and oversight
of an actual and capable head.
Yet it does not follow that the working hours of chief librarians should
be absorbed in attending to innumerable and trivial items of detail
which might be delegated to and done quite as well, or better, by their
assistants. Not only is "genius a capacity for evading hard work," as
has been said, but one of the proper duties of the executive of a
library is to obtain the best results possible from the respective
capacities of those through whom the library does its work. All of which
should imply the exercise of a kindly and broad-minded disposition
towards one's assistants, just as truly as of respect and obedience to
one's superiors, or of courtesy and suavity in dealing with customers
and the public. It may be only human for one to desire to be that "king
of his world," of whom Carlyle speaks; but any policy which reduces the
assistants to mere machines is not a true professional one, since it
tends to rob the library world of talent which is needed and, except for
such repression, might be developed and brought forward.
On the other hand I might plead no less for corresponding loyalty and
fidelity on the part of all library workers, both to their respective
chiefs and the institutions that employ them. As a matter of | 294.781031 |
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Produced by Melissa McDaniel, Suzanne Shell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=.
[Illustration: "'STOP!'"]
THE
KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT
BY
GUY BOOTHBY
AUTHOR OF
'DR. NIKOLA,' 'A BID FOR FORTUNE,' 'THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL,'
ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY STANLEY L. WOOD
_LONDON_
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE
1902
'THE KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT'
CHAPTER I
I suppose to every man, at some period in his life, there comes some
adventure upon which, in after life, he is destined to look back with
a feeling that is very near akin to astonishment. Somebody has said
that adventures are to the adventurous. In my case I must confess that
I do not see how the remark applies. I was certainly fourteen years at
sea, but in all that time, beyond having once fallen overboard in
Table Bay, and, of course, the great business of which it is the
purpose of this book to tell you, I cannot remember any circumstance
that I could dignify with the title of an adventure. The sailor's
calling in these times of giant steamships is so vastly different from
what it was in the old days of sailing ships and long voyages that,
with the most ordinary luck, a man might work his way up the ratlines
from apprentice to skipper with little less danger than would be met
with in a London merchant's office. Though I was not aware of it,
however, I was destined to have an adventure, stirring enough to
satisfy the most daring, before my seafaring life came to an end.
How well I remember the day on which I was appointed fourth officer of
the ocean liner _Pernambuco_, running from London to South America. I
should here remark that I held a second officer's certificate, but I
was, nevertheless, glad enough to take what I could get, in the hope
of being able to work my way up to something better. It was not a bad
rise, when all was said and done, to leave a ramshackle old tub of a
tramp for the comparatively luxurious life of a mail boat; much
jollier merely to run out to the Argentine and back, instead of
dodging at a snail's pace from port to port all round the world. Then
again there was the question of society. It was pleasanter in every
respect to have pretty girls to flirt with on deck, and to sit beside
one at meals, than to have no one to talk to save a captain who was in
an intoxicated state five days out of seven, a grumpy old chief mate,
and a Scotch engineer, who could recite anything Burns ever wrote,
backwards or forwards, as you might choose to ask him for it. When I
had been six months on board the _Pernambuco_, I was made third
officer; at the end of the year I signed my name on the pay-sheet as
second. Eventually I got my Master's Certificate, and became chief
officer. Now everybody knows, or ought to know, that the duties of
chief officer on board a big liner, and, for the matter of that, on
any other boat, are as onerous as they are varied. In the first place,
he is the chief executive officer of the ship, and is held
responsible, not only for its appearance, but also for the proper
working of the crew. It is a position that requires consummate tact.
He must know when to see things and when not to see them, must be able
to please the passengers, and yet protect the interests of his owners,
must, and this is not the least important fact, be able to keep his
men constantly employed, yet not earn for himself the reputation of
being too hard a task-master. Finally, he has to see that all the
credit for what he does is not appropriated by himself, but goes to
increase the _kudos_ of his commanding officer. If the latter is a
gentleman, and can appreciate his officers' endeavours at their real
value, matters will in all probability go smoothly; on the other hand,
however, if the captain is a bully, then the chief officer is likely
to wish himself elsewhere, or at least that he was the holder of some
other rank. This was my case on my last and most memorable voyage in
the service of a particular Company that every one knows, but which,
for various reasons, shall be nameless.
I had never met Captain Harveston until he joined us in dock on the
day previous to sailing, but I had heard some scarcely complimentary
remarks about him from men who had sailed with him. I must confess,
therefore, that I was prepared to dislike him. In appearance he was as
unlike a sailor as a man could well be, was a great dandy in his
dress, and evidently looked upon himself as an undoubted lady-killer.
So far as I was concerned, he had hardly set foot on the vessel before
he commenced finding fault. A ship in dock, before the passengers come
aboard, and while the thousand and one preparations are being made for
a voyage, is seldom an example of tidiness. Surely a skipper, who had
been at sea for thirty years, must have realized this; for some
reason, however, best known to himself, it pleased Captain Harveston
to inaugurate our acquaintance by telling me that he liked a "<DW74> and
span ship," and that he judged his officers by what he saw of their
work.
"You shall have nothing to complain of as soon as I get the workmen
out, sir," I replied, a bit nettled at being called over the coals
upon such a trumpery matter.
"I trust I shall not," he answered superciliously, and then strutted
down the bridge to his own cabin, which was just abaft the
chart-room.
As it turned out, the Isle of Wight was scarcely astern before the
trouble began. Young Herberts, our second officer, was the first to
get a wigging, and Harrison, the fourth, quickly followed suit. I felt
sure my time would not be long in coming, and I was not wrong. On the
second day out, and during my watch below, I was talking to the purser
in his cabin, when the fourth officer appeared to inform me that the
captain wished to see me on the promenade deck. Thither I made my way,
to find him seated there with a number of lady passengers round him.
"Surely he is not going to be nasty before these ladies," I said to
myself as I approached him.
I discovered, however, that this was exactly what he was going to do.
"Mr. Helmsworth," he began, "I am told that you have refused the
passengers the use of the bull-board."
"Indeed, sir, I have not," I replied. "I informed one of the gentlemen
who spoke to me about it that I would have it brought up directly we
were clear of the Channel. As a rule we never produce it until we're
out of the Bay. I had Captain Pomeroy's instructions to that effect."
"I am captain of this vessel now," he returned. "Please see that the
board is brought on deck at once. I must ask you for the future to do
all that lies in your power to promote the pleasure of the passengers.
It is a duty I have a right to expect of my officers."
"Very good, sir," I answered and walked away.
From that day forward I saw that my service under Captain Harveston
was likely to be a short one, and, indeed, by the time we reached
Buenos Ayres, I felt as if I could throw up my appointment altogether.
He was never satisfied, never pleased, and did nothing but grumble and
find fault from morning until night.
After the usual fortnight's stay at the capital of the Argentine, we
commenced our homeward voyage. Our first port of call was Rio, where
Harveston and the third officer came to loggerheads. By this time the
whole ship's company had taken his measure, and I fancy he must have
known it. Being of a petty disposition, he attributed this to me, and
accordingly laid himself out to make my life aboard as disagreeable as
it was possible for him to do. How bitterly I regretted the loss of my
old skipper, who had been kindness and consideration itself, I must
leave you to imagine.
And now I must turn from a narration of my own misfortunes during
that miserable voyage to give you a description of a man, whose
personality is destined to play such an important part in my
narrative. He joined us at Rio, and was one of the last passengers to
come aboard. He was a Spaniard, and, as could be seen at a glance, a
well-bred one at that. He called himself Don Guzman de Silvestre. He
was very tall; I should say some inches over six feet, with the
darkest of dark eyes and hair, aquiline features, and a small pointed
beard, that he had a habit of stroking when thinking. Taken
altogether, a more romantic personality could scarcely be imagined,
and as he came up the gangway, I told myself that he was the best
figure of a man I had seen for some considerable time. When he asked
me at what hour we should sail, I noticed that he spoke English
perfectly, and in a musical voice that was very pleasant to listen to.
Before we had been many days at sea, he and I had had several talks
upon all sorts of subjects, considerably to Captain Harveston's
annoyance, for the latter did not approve of his officers being on
anything like friendly terms with the passengers. Having no desire to
quarrel with my chief, I endeavoured, as far as possible, to keep out
of his way, but for some reason this only had the effect of incensing
him more against me.
We were a full ship on the homeward voyage, and, as we generally did
a lot of painting between Barbadoes and Madeira, I found my time
pretty well taken up. It was in connection with this painting that the
climax came. We had left the West Indies behind us, and at the time
were steering a straight course for Madeira. The men, when the
incident I am about to describe happened, were at work on the port
rails of the promenade deck. One of them, who had been outside the
rail, climbed over, pot in hand, to obey an order I had given him. At
the moment that he did so, the long Atlantic swell caused the vessel
to give a big roll, and before he could save himself, he was flying
across the deck towards a chair in which a lady was seated. They came
into violent collision, with the result that the pot of white paint
was deposited in her lap. I hastened to her assistance, and did all
that was possible at the moment to remedy the mishap. Fortunately for
the man, who was overcome by the magnitude of the catastrophe, she
took the accident in excellent part.
"You must not blame the man," she said to me. "It was not his fault. I
shall have to sue the ocean for damages."
Then with a laugh she went below to change her attire.
As ill luck would have it, just after she had disappeared, the
skipper emerged from the companion, and saw the splashes of paint.
"What's the meaning of this, sir?" he asked, turning on me angrily.
"One of the men met with an accident, sir," I replied. "The roll of
the ship caused him to upset the paint-pot."
"You should not put that class of fellow to do such work," he
returned, oblivious to the fact that he was committing the
unpardonable sin of admonishing an officer before the men. "You seem
to have no discrimination at all, Mr. Helmsworth."
With that he walked away, leaving me to chew my cud of humiliation in
silence. After luncheon I received an order to go to the captain's
cabin. I could see that I was in for more trouble, but could not guess
what. One thing was very evident; he was in a towering rage.
"How is it, Mr. Helmsworth," he began, when I had entered the cabin
and had closed the door, "that you deliberately kept things from | 294.900065 |
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Produced by Tor Martin Kristiansen, Joseph Cooper and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: "THEY SAILED ON, IN THE MOONLIGHT"
(See page 297)]
The Sandman:
His Sea
Stories
By
William J. Hopkins
Author of "The Sandman: His Farm Stories,"
"The Sandman: More Farm Stories," "The
Sandman: His Ship Stories," etc.
With Forty Illustrations by
Diantha W. Horne
This special edition is published by arrangement
with the publisher of the regular edition,
The Page Company.
CADMUS BOOKS
E. M. HALE
AND COMPANY
CHICAGO
_Copyright, 1908_
BY THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
Made in U.S.A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE SEPTEMBER-GALE STORY 1
THE FIRE STORY 31
THE PORPOISE STORY 44
THE SEAWEED STORY 57
THE FLYING-FISH STORY 74
THE LOG-BOOK STORY 85
THE SHARK STORY 102
THE CHRISTMAS STORY 120
THE SOUNDING STORY 139
THE TEAK-WOOD STORY 153
THE STOWAWAY STORY 171
THE ALBATROSS STORY 185
THE DERELICT STORY 194
THE LIGHTHOUSE STORY 210
THE RUNAWAY STORY 222
THE TRAFALGAR STORY 243
THE CARGO STORY 253
THE PRIVATEER STORY 270
THE RACE STORY 291
THE PILOT STORY 310
THE DRIFTWOOD STORY 325
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"They sailed on, in the moonlight." (See page 297) _Frontispiece_
"Sometimes he had to hold on to the fences" 11
"They saw all sorts of things going up the river" 23
"A great tree that was blown down" 29
"It floated, burning, for a few minutes" 42
"They swam in a funny sort of way" 48
"They had more porpoises on deck than you would
have thought that they could possibly use" 55
"The surface of the sea seemed covered with them" 65
"They amused themselves for a long time" 72
"A school of fish suddenly leaped out of the water" 78
"The sailors were having a good time" 81
The Hour Glass 90
"Little Jacob liked to watch Captain Solomon" 93
"'Right there,' he said, 'you can see his back fin'" 109
The Shark 114
"'Yes, little lad,' he said. 'For you--if you want it'" 129
Christmas Island, 1st View, bearing N by E 132
Christmas Island, 2nd View, bearing SW 133
"Little Jacob watched it... settle into the ocean" 138
The Lead 149
"He walked all around the great yard with the boys on
his back" 167
"He was in the hold of | 294.900132 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.0641170 | 298 | 100 |
Produced by David Widger from PG etext #1581 prepared by Dennis
McCarthy, Atlanta, Georgia and Tad Book, student, Pontifical North
American College, Rome
THE HOLY BIBLE
Translated from the Latin Vulgate
Diligently Compared with the Hebrew, Greek,
and Other Editions in Divers Languages
THE OLD TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Douay
A.D. 1609 & 1610
and
THE NEW TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Rheims
A.D. 1582
With Annotations
The Whole Revised and Diligently Compared with
the Latin Vulgate by Bishop Richard Challoner
A.D. 1749-1752
HISTORY
This e-text comes from multiple editions of Challoner's revised Douay-
Rheims Version of the Holy Bible. In 1568 English exiles, many from
Oxford, established the English College of Douay (Douai/Doway), Flanders,
under William (later Cardinal) Allen. In October, 1578, Gregory Martin
began the work of preparing an English translation of the Bible for
Catholic readers, the first such translation into Modern English.
Assisting were William Allen, Richard Bristow, Thomas Worthington, and
William Reynolds who revised, criticized, and corrected Dr. Martin's
work. The college | 295.084157 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.1824050 | 2,331 | 6 |
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
THE GOOD SOLDIER
By Ford Madox Ford
PART I
I
THIS is the saddest story I have ever heard. We had known the
Ashburnhams for nine seasons of the town of Nauheim with an extreme
intimacy--or, rather with an acquaintanceship as loose and easy and yet
as close as a good glove's with your hand. My wife and I knew Captain
and Mrs Ashburnham as well as it was possible to know anybody, and yet,
in another sense, we knew nothing at all about them. This is, I believe,
a state of things only possible with English people of whom, till today,
when I sit down to puzzle out what I know of this sad affair, I knew
nothing whatever. Six months ago I had never been to England, and,
certainly, I had never sounded the depths of an English heart. I had
known the shallows.
I don't mean to say that we were not acquainted with many English
people. Living, as we perforce lived, in Europe, and being, as we
perforce were, leisured Americans, which is as much as to say that we
were un-American, we were thrown very much into the society of the
nicer English. Paris, you see, was our home. Somewhere between Nice and
Bordighera provided yearly winter quarters for us, and Nauheim always
received us from July to September. You will gather from this statement
that one of us had, as the saying is, a "heart", and, from the statement
that my wife is dead, that she was the sufferer.
Captain Ashburnham also had a heart. But, whereas a yearly month or so
at Nauheim tuned him up to exactly the right pitch for the rest of the
twelvemonth, the two months or so were only just enough to keep
poor Florence alive from year to year. The reason for his heart was,
approximately, polo, or too much hard sportsmanship in his youth. The
reason for poor Florence's broken years was a storm at sea upon our
first crossing to Europe, and the immediate reasons for our imprisonment
in that continent were doctor's orders. They said that even the short
Channel crossing might well kill the poor thing.
When we all first met, Captain Ashburnham, home on sick leave from an
India to which he was never to return, was thirty-three; Mrs Ashburnham
Leonora--was thirty-one. I was thirty-six and poor Florence thirty.
Thus today Florence would have been thirty-nine and Captain Ashburnham
forty-two; whereas I am forty-five and Leonora forty. You will perceive,
therefore, that our friendship has been a young-middle-aged affair,
since we were all of us of quite quiet dispositions, the Ashburnhams
being more particularly what in England it is the custom to call "quite
good people".
They were descended, as you will probably expect, from the Ashburnham
who accompanied Charles I to the scaffold, and, as you must also expect
with this class of English people, you would never have noticed it.
Mrs Ashburnham was a Powys; Florence was a Hurlbird of Stamford,
Connecticut, where, as you know, they are more old-fashioned than even
the inhabitants of Cranford, England, could have been. I myself am a
Dowell of Philadelphia, Pa., where, it is historically true, there
are more old English families than you would find in any six English
counties taken together. I carry about with me, indeed--as if it
were the only thing that invisibly anchored me to any spot upon the
globe--the title deeds of my farm, which once covered several blocks
between Chestnut and Walnut Streets. These title deeds are of wampum,
the grant of an Indian chief to the first Dowell, who left Farnham in
Surrey in company with William Penn. Florence's people, as is so
often the case with the inhabitants of Connecticut, came from the
neighbourhood of Fordingbridge, where the Ashburnhams' place is. From
there, at this moment, I am actually writing.
You may well ask why I write. And yet my reasons are quite many. For it
is not unusual in human beings who have witnessed the sack of a city or
the falling to pieces of a people to desire to set down what they have
witnessed for the benefit of unknown heirs or of generations infinitely
remote; or, if you please, just to get the sight out of their heads.
Some one has said that the death of a mouse from cancer is the whole
sack of Rome by the Goths, and I swear to you that the breaking up
of our little four-square coterie was such another unthinkable event.
Supposing that you should come upon us sitting together at one of the
little tables in front of the club house, let us say, at Homburg, taking
tea of an afternoon and watching the miniature golf, you would have said
that, as human affairs go, we were an extraordinarily safe castle. We
were, if you will, one of those tall ships with the white sails upon a
blue sea, one of those things that seem the proudest and the safest of
all the beautiful and safe things that God has permitted the mind of men
to frame. Where better could one take refuge? Where better?
Permanence? Stability? I can't believe it's gone. I can't believe that
that long, tranquil life, which was just stepping a minuet, vanished in
four crashing days at the end of nine years and six weeks. Upon my word,
yes, our intimacy was like a minuet, simply because on every possible
occasion and in every possible circumstance we knew where to go, where
to sit, which table we unanimously should choose; and we could rise and
go, all four together, without a signal from any one of us, always to
the music of the Kur orchestra, always in the temperate sunshine, or, if
it rained, in discreet shelters. No, indeed, it can't be gone. You can't
kill a minuet de la cour. You may shut up the music-book, close the
harpsichord; in the cupboard and presses the rats may destroy the white
satin favours. The mob may sack Versailles; the Trianon may fall, but
surely the minuet--the minuet itself is dancing itself away into the
furthest stars, even as our minuet of the Hessian bathing places must
be stepping itself still. Isn't there any heaven where old beautiful
dances, old beautiful intimacies prolong themselves? Isn't there any
Nirvana pervaded by the faint thrilling of instruments that have
fallen into the dust of wormwood but that yet had frail, tremulous, and
everlasting souls?
No, by God, it is false! It wasn't a minuet that we stepped; it was a
prison--a prison full of screaming hysterics, tied down so that they
might not outsound the rolling of our carriage wheels as we went along
the shaded avenues of the Taunus Wald.
And yet I swear by the sacred name of my creator that it was true. It
was true sunshine; the true music; the true splash of the fountains from
the mouth of stone dolphins. For, if for me we were four people with the
same tastes, with the same desires, acting--or, no, not acting--sitting
here and there unanimously, isn't that the truth? If for nine years I
have possessed a goodly apple that is rotten at the core and discover
its rottenness only in nine years and six months less four days, isn't
it true to say that for nine years I possessed a goodly apple? So it may
well be with Edward Ashburnham, with Leonora his wife and with poor dear
Florence. And, if you come to think of it, isn't it a little odd that
the physical rottenness of at least two pillars of our four-square
house never presented itself to my mind as a menace to its security? It
doesn't so present itself now though the two of them are actually dead.
I don't know....
I know nothing--nothing in the world--of the hearts of men. I only know
that I am alone--horribly alone. No hearthstone will ever again witness,
for me, friendly intercourse. No smoking-room will ever be other than
peopled with incalculable simulacra amidst smoke wreaths. Yet, in the
name of God, what should I know if I don't know the life of the hearth
and of the smoking-room, since my whole life has been passed in those
places? The warm hearthside!--Well, there was Florence: I believe
that for the twelve years her life lasted, after the storm that seemed
irretrievably to have weakened her heart--I don't believe that for one
minute she was out of my sight, except when she was safely tucked up in
bed and I should be downstairs, talking to some good fellow or other in
some lounge or smoking-room or taking my final turn with a cigar before
going to bed. I don't, you understand, blame Florence. But how can she
have known what she knew? How could she have got to know it? To know it
so fully. Heavens! There doesn't seem to have been the actual time. It
must have been when I was taking my baths, and my Swedish exercises,
being manicured. Leading the life I did, of the sedulous, strained
nurse, I had to do something to keep myself fit. It must have been then!
Yet even that can't have been enough time to get the tremendously long
conversations full of worldly wisdom that Leonora has reported to
me since their deaths. And is it possible to imagine that during our
prescribed walks in Nauheim and the neighbourhood she found time to
carry on the protracted negotiations which she did carry on between
Edward Ashburnham and his wife? And isn't it incredible that during
all that time Edward and Leonora never spoke a word to each other in
private? What is one to think of humanity?
For I swear to you that they were the model couple. He was as devoted
as it was possible to be without appearing fatuous. So well set up,
with such honest blue eyes, such a touch of stupidity, such a warm
goodheartedness! And she--so tall, so splendid in the saddle, so fair!
Yes, Leonora was extraordinarily fair and so extraordinarily the real
thing that she seemed too good to be true. You don't, I mean, as a rule,
get it all so superlatively together. To be the county family, to look
the county family, to be so appropriately and perfectly wealthy | 295.202445 |
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Produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: "HIS FEEBLE GLANCE TOOK IN HER FACE WITH LIFELESS
INTEREST"]
Jane Cable
By George Barr McCutcheon
CONTENTS
I When Jane Goes Driving
II The Cables
III James Bansemer
IV The Foundling
V The Bansemer Crash
VI In Sight of the Fangs
VII Mrs. Cable Entertains
VIII The Telegram
IX The Proposal
X The Four Initials
XI An Evening with Droom
XII James Bansemer Calls
XIII Jane Sees with New Eyes
XIV The Canker
XV The Tragedy of the Sea Wall
XVI Hours of Terror
XVII David Cable's Debts
XVIII The Visit of Harbert
XIX The Crash
XX Father and Son
XXI In the Philippines
XXII The Chase of Pilar
XXIII The Fight in the Convent
XXIV Teresa Velasquez
XXV The Beautiful Nurse
XXVI The Separation of Hearts
XXVII "If They Don't Kill You"
XXVIII Homeward Bound
XXIX The Wreckage
XXX The Drink of Gall
XXXI The Transforming of Droom
XXXII Elias Droom's Dinner Party
XXXIII Droom Triumphs over Death
XXXIV To-morrow
CHAPTER I
WHEN JANE GOES DRIVING
It was a bright, clear afternoon in the late fall that pretty Miss
Cable drove up in her trap and waited at the curb for her father to
come forth from his office in one of Chicago's tallest buildings.
The crisp, caressing wind that came up the street from the lake put
the pink into her smooth cheeks, but it did not disturb the brown
hair that crowned her head. Well-groomed and graceful, she sat
straight and sure upon the box, her gloved hand grasping the yellow
reins firmly and confidently. Miss Cable looked neither to right
nor to left, but at the tips of her thoroughbred's ears. Slender
and tall and very aristocratic she appeared, her profile alone
visible to the passers-by.
After a very few moments, waiting in her trap, the smart young
woman became impatient. A severe, little pucker settled upon her
brow, and not once, but many times her eyes turned to the broad
entrance across the sidewalk. She had telephoned to her father
earlier in the afternoon; and he had promised faithfully to be
ready at four o'clock for a spin up the drive behind Spartan. At
three minutes past four the pucker made its first appearance; and
now, several minutes later, it was quite distressing. Never before
had he kept her waiting like this. She was conscious of the fact
that at least a hundred men had stared at her in the longest ten
minutes she had ever known. From the bottom of a very hot heart
she was beginning to resent this scrutiny, when a tall young fellow
swung around a near-by corner, and came up with a smile so full of
delight, that the dainty pucker left her brow, as the shadow flees
from the sunshine. His hat was off and poised gallantly above his
head, his right hand reaching up to clasp the warm, little tan one
outstretched to meet it.
"I knew it was you long before I saw you," said he warmly.
"Truly? How interesting!" she responded, with equal warmth.
"Something psychic in the atmosphere today?"
"Oh, no," he said, reluctantly releasing her hand. "I can't see
through these huge buildings, you know---it's impossible to look
over their tops--I simply knew you were here, that's all."
"You're romantic, even though you are a bit silly," she cried gaily.
"Pray, how could you know?"
"Simplest thing in the world. Rigby told me he had seen you, and
that you seemed to be in a great rage. He dared me to venture into
your presence, and--that's why I'm here."
"What a hopelessly, commonplace explanation! Why did you not leave
me to think that there was really something psychic about it? Logic
is so discouraging to one's conceit. I'm in a very disagreeable
humour to-day," she said, in fine despair.
"I don't believe it," he disputed graciously.
"But I am," she insisted, smiling brightly. His heart was leaping
high--so high, that it filled his eyes. "Everything has gone wrong
with me to-day. It's pretty trying to have to wait in front of a
big office building for fifteen minutes. Every instant, I expect
a policeman to come up and order me to move on. Don't they arrest
people for blocking the street?"
"Yes, and put them in awful, rat-swarming dungeons over in Dearborn | 295.580439 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.5604580 | 358 | 17 | IV (OF 8)***
E-text prepared by Charlene Taylor, Christine P. Travers, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from
page images generously made available by Internet Archive
(http://www.archive.org) and digitized by Google Books Library Project
(http://books.google.com/intl/en/googlebooks/library.html)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 29340-h.htm or 29340-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29340/29340-h/29340-h.htm)
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29340/29340-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available
through Internet Archive or Google books. See
http://www.archive.org/details/storygreatwar01ruhlgoog
or
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Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. Hyphenation
and accentuation have been made consistent. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been retained.
THE STORY OF THE GREAT WAR
History of the European War from Official Sources
Complete Historical Records of Events to Date,
Illustrated with Drawings, Maps, and Photographs
Prefaced by
What the War Means to America
Major General Leonard Wood, U.S.A.
Naval Lessons of the War
Rear Admiral Austin M. Knight, U.S.N.
The World's War
Frederick Palmer
Theatres of the | 295.580498 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.7599580 | 4,656 | 9 |
Produced by Shaun Pinder and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Common Minerals and Rocks
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boston Society of Natural History
GUIDES FOR SCIENCE-TEACHING
NO. XII
COMMON MINERALS AND ROCKS
BY WILLIAM O. CROSBY
D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Copyright_
BY THE BOSTON SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY
1881
I D 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTION.
[Illustration]
Minerals and rocks, or the inorganic portions of the earth, constitute
the proper field or subject-matter of the science of Geology. Now the
inorganic earth, like an animal or plant, may be and is studied in three
quite distinct ways, giving rise to three great divisions of geology,
which, as will be seen, correspond closely to the main divisions of
Biology.
First, we may study the forces now operating upon and in the earth—the
geological agencies—such as the ocean and atmosphere, rivers, rain and
frosts, earthquakes, volcanoes, hot springs, etc., and observe the
various effects which they produce. We are concerned here with the
dynamics of the earth; and this is the great division of _dynamical
geology_, corresponding to physiology among the biological sciences.
Or, second, instead of geological causes, we may study more particularly
geological effects, observing the different kinds of rocks and of
rock-structure produced by the geological agencies, not only at the
present time, but also during past ages. This method of study gives us
the important division of _structural geology_, corresponding to anatomy
and morphology.
All phenomena present two distinct and opposite aspects or phases which
we call _cause_ and _effect_; and so in dynamical and structural geology
we are really studying the opposite sides of essentially the same
classes of phenomena. In the first division we study the causes now in
operation and observe their effects; and then, guided by the light of
the experience thus gained, we turn to the effects produced in the past
and seek to refer them to their causes.
These two divisions together constitute what is properly known as
physiography; and they are both subordinate to the third great division
of geology,—_historical geology_,—which corresponds to embryology.
The great object of the geologist is, by studying the geological
formations in regular order, from the oldest up to the newest, to work
out, in their proper sequence, the events which constitute the earth’s
history; and dynamical and structural geology are merely introductory
chapters, the alphabet, as it were, which must be learned before we are
prepared to read understandingly the grand story of the geological
record.
Our work in this short course will be limited to the first two
divisions,—_i.e._, to dynamical and structural geology. We will attempt,
first, a general sketch of the forces now concerned in the formation of
rocks and rock-structures; and after that we will study the composition
and other characteristics of the common minerals and rocks.
The scope of this work, and its relations to the whole field of geology,
are more clearly indicated by the following classification of the
geological sciences:—
{DYNAMICAL GEOLOGY {_Physical Geology._
{_Chemical Geology._
GEOLOGY {STRUCTURAL GEOLOGY {_Mineralogy._
{_Petrography_ {Lithology.
{Petrology.
{HISTORICAL GEOLOGY.
Many teachers will desire to fill in some of the details of the outline
sketch presented in this Guide, and for this purpose the following works
are especially recommended:—
ELEMENTS OF GEOLOGY. By Prof. Joseph Le Conte. 1882. D.
Appleton & Co., New York. Nearly 600 pages.
MANUAL OF GEOLOGY. By Prof. J. D. Dana. Third edition. 1880.
800 pages.
TEXT-BOOK OF GEOLOGY. By Prof. A. Geikie. 1882. Macmillan &
Co., London. Nearly 1000 pages.
As a reference-book for mineralogy, the following treatise is
unsurpassed:—
TEXT-BOOK OF MINERALOGY. By Edward S. Dana. 1883. John Wiley
& Sons, New York.
And, as an introduction to the study of minerals, and, through these, to
the study of rocks,—
FIRST LESSONS IN MINERALS. Science Guide No. XIII. By Mrs.
E. H. Richards.
cannot be too highly recommended. Teachers will find this little primer
of 46 pages invaluable with young children, and with all who have had no
previous training in chemistry.
As an admirable continuation of the work begun in these pages, teachers
are referred to Professor Shaler’s “First Book in Geology.” In this our
brief sketch of the geological agencies is amplified and beautifully
illustrated; and rarely have the wonderful stories of the river,
ocean-beach, glacier, and volcano been told so effectively. In the
chapter on the history of life on the globe the main outlines of
historical geology are skillfully brought within the comprehension of
beginners. The directions to teachers are fully in accord with the
modern methods and ideas, and are a very valuable feature of the book.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DYNAMICAL GEOLOGY.
[Illustration]
When we think of the ocean with its waves, tides, and currents, of the
winds, and of the rain and snow, and the vast net-work of rivers to
which they give rise, we realize that the energy or force manifested
upon the earth’s surface resides chiefly in the _air_ and _water_—in the
earth’s fluid envelope and not in its solid crust. And it would be an
easy matter to show that, with the exception of the tidal waves and
currents, which of course are due chiefly to the attraction of the moon,
nearly all this energy is merely the transformed heat of the sun. Now
the air and water are two great geological agencies, and therefore the
geological effects which they produce are traceable back to the sun.
Organic matter is another important geological agent; but all are
familiar with the generalization that connects the energy exhibited by
every form of life with the sun; and, besides, it is scarcely necessary
to allude to the obvious fact that all animals and plants, so far at
least as any display of energy is concerned, are merely differentiated
portions of the earth’s fluid envelope. And so, if space permitted, it
might be shown that, with the exception of the tides, nearly every form
of force manifested upon the earth’s surface has its origin in the sun.
Of this trio of geological agencies operating upon the earth’s surface
and vitalized by the sun—_water_, _air_, and _organic matter_—the water
is by far the most important, and so it is common to call these
collectively the aqueous agencies. Hence we have _solar agencies_ and
_aqueous agencies_ as synonymous terms.
The aqueous agencies include, on one side, _air_ and _water_, or
_inorganic_ agencies; and, on the other, _animals_ and _plants_, or
_organic_ agencies.
Let us notice briefly the operation of these, beginning with the air and
water.
I. AQUEOUS AGENCIES.
1. _Air and Water, or Inorganic Agencies._
CHEMICAL EROSION.—Attention is invited first to the specimens numbered
1, 2, 3, and 4. No. 1 is a sound, fresh piece of the rather common rock,
diabase; and those who are acquainted with minerals will recognize that
the light- grains in the rock are feldspar, and the dark, augite.
This specimen came from a depth in the quarry, and has not been exposed
to the action of the weather.
The second specimen differs from the first, apparently, as much as
possible; and yet, except in being somewhat finer grained, it was
originally of precisely similar composition and appearance. In fact, it
is a portion of the same rock, but a _weathered_ portion. In this we can
no longer recognize the feldspar and augite as such, but both these
minerals are very much changed, while in the place of a strong, hard
rock we have an incoherent friable mass, which is, externally at least,
easily crushed to powder; and with the next step in the weathering, as
we may readily observe in the natural ledges, the rock is completely
disintegrated, forming a loose earth or soil.
We have two examples of such natural powders in the specimens numbered 3
and 4; and by washing these (especially the finer one, No. 4) with
water, we can prove that they consist of an impalpable substance which
we may call clay, and angular grains which we may call sand. The
sand-grains are really portions of the feldspar not yet entirely changed
to clay.
Thus we learn that the result of the exposure of this hard rock to the
weather is that it is reduced to the condition of sand and clay. What we
mean especially by the weather are _moisture_ and certain constituents
of the air, particularly _carbon dioxide_.
The action of the weather on the rocks is almost entirely chemical. With
a very few exceptions, the principal minerals of which rocks are
composed, such as feldspar, hornblende, augite, and mica, are silicates,
_i.e._, consist of silicic acid or silica combined with various bases,
especially aluminum, magnesium, iron, calcium, potassium, and sodium.
Now the silica does not hold all these bases with equal strength; but
carbon dioxide, in the presence of moisture, is able to take the sodium,
potassium, calcium, and magnesium away from the silica in the form of
carbonates, which, being soluble, are carried away by the rain-water.
The silicate of aluminum, with more or less iron, takes on water at the
same time, and remains behind as a soft, impalpable powder, which is
common clay.
In the case of our diabase, continued exposure to the weather would
reduce the whole mass to clay. But other rocks contain grains of quartz,
a hard mineral which cannot be decomposed, and it always forms sand.
Certain classes of rocks, too, such as the limestones and some
iron-ores, are completely dissolved by water holding carbon dioxide in
solution, and nothing is left to form soil, except usually a small
proportion of insoluble impurities like sand or clay.
Let us see next how these agents of decay get at the rocks. Neither
water nor air can penetrate the solid rock or mineral to any
considerable extent, so that practically the action is limited to
surfaces, and whatever multiplies surfaces must favor decomposition.
First, we have the upper surface of the rock where it is bare, but more
especially where it is covered with soil, for there it is always wet.
All rocks are naturally divided by joints into blocks, which are
frequently more or less regular, and often of quite small size. Water
and air penetrate into these cracks and decompose the surfaces of the
blocks, and thus the field of their operations is enormously extended.
These rock-blocks sometimes show very beautifully the progress of the
decomposing agents from the outside inward by concentric layers or
shells of rotten material, which, in the larger blocks, often envelop a
nucleus of the unaltered rock.
It is interesting to observe, too, that these concentric lines of decay
cut off the angles of the original blocks, so that the undecomposed
nucleus, when it is found, is approximately spherical instead of
cuboidal. Both these points are well illustrated by specimen No. 2; for
although now nearly spherical, it was originally perfectly angular, and
has become rounded by the peeling off, in concentric layers, of the
decomposed material, and in most cases several of these layers are
distinctly visible, like the coats of an onion. But by stripping these
off we should discover, in all the larger balls at least, a solid,
spheroidal nucleus, while in the smaller balls the decomposition has
penetrated to the centre.
In the rocks also we find many imperfect joints and minute cracks. In
cold countries these are extended and widened by the expansive power of
freezing water, and thus the surfaces of decomposition become constantly
greater.
Nearly all rocks suffer this chemical decomposition when exposed to the
weather, but in some the decay goes on much faster than in others.
Diabase is one of the rocks which decay most readily; while granite is,
among common rocks, one of those that resist decay most effectually.
The caverns which are so large and numerous in most limestone countries
are a splendid example of the solvent action of meteoric waters, being
formed entirely by the dissolving out of the limestone by the water
circulating through the joint cracks. The process must go on with
extreme slowness at first, when the joints are narrow, and more rapidly
as they are widened and more water is admitted. We get some idea, too,
of the magnitude of the results accomplished by these silent and
unobtrusive agencies when we reflect that almost all the loose earth and
soil covering the solid rocks are simply the insoluble residue which
carbon dioxide and water cannot remove. In low latitudes, where a warm
climate accelerates the decay of the rocks, the soil is usually from 50
to 300 feet deep.
MECHANICAL EROSION.—_On the edge of the land._—Let us trace next the
_mechanical_ action of water and air upon the land. First we will
consider the _edge_ of the land, where it is washed by the waves of the
sea. Whoever has been on the shore must have noticed that the sand along
the water’s edge is kept in constant motion by the ebb and flow of the
surf.
Where the beach is composed of gravel or shingle the motion is evident
to the _ear_ as well as the eye; and when the surf is strong, the
rattling and grinding of the pebbles as they are rolled up and down the
beach develops into a roar.
The constant shifting of the grains of sand, pebbles, and stones is, of
course, attended by innumerable collisions, which are the cause of the
noise. Now it is practically impossible, as we may easily prove by
experiment, to knock or rub two pieces of stone together, at least so as
to produce much noise, without abrading their surfaces; small particles
are detached, and sand and dust are formed.
That this abrasion actually occurs in the case of the moving sand is
most beautifully shown by the sandblast. We are to conclude, then, that
every time a pebble, large or small, is rolled up or down the beach it
becomes smaller, and some sand and dust or clay are formed which are
carried off by the water.
But what are the pebbles originally? This question is not difficult. A
little observation on the beach shows us that the pebbles are not all
equally round and smooth, but many are more or less angular. And we soon
see that it is possible to select a series showing all gradations
between the most perfectly rounded forms and angular fragments of rock
that are only slightly abraded on the corners. The three principal
members of such a series are shown in specimens 5, 6, and 7 from the
beach on Marblehead Neck; but equally instructive specimens can be
obtained at many other points on our coast. It is also observable that
the well-rounded pebbles are much smaller on the average than the
angular blocks.
From these facts we draw the legitimate inference that the pebbles were
all originally angular, and that the same abrasion which diminishes
their size makes them round and smooth.
A little reflection, too, shows that the rounding of the angular
fragments is a natural and necessary result of their mutual collisions;
for the angles are at the same time their weakest and most exposed
points, and must wear off faster than the flat or concave surfaces.
Having traced each pebble back to a larger angular rock-fragment, the
question arises, Whence come these angular blocks?
Behind our gravel-beach, or at its end, we have usually a cliff of
rocks. As we approach this it is distinctly observable that the angular
pebbles are more numerous, larger, and more angular; and a little
observation shows that these are simply the blocks produced by jointing,
and that the cliff is entirely composed of them. In other words, our
cliff is a mass of natural masonry, which chemical agencies, the frost,
and the sea are gradually disintegrating and removing. As soon as the
blocks are brought within reach of the surf their mutual collisions make
them rounder and smaller; and small round pebbles, sand, and clay are
the final result.
For a more complete account of the formation of pebbles, teachers are
referred to the first or introductory number of this series of guides,
by Prof. Hyatt, “About Pebbles.”
Where the waves can drive the shingle directly against the base of the
cliff, this is gradually ground away in the same manner as the loose
stones themselves, sometimes forming a cavern of considerable depth, but
always leaving a smooth, hard surface, which is very characteristic, and
contrasts strongly with the upper portion of the cliff, which is acted
on only by the rain and frost. A good example of such a pebble-carved
cliff may be seen behind the beach on the sea-ward side of Marblehead
Neck.
The sea acts within very narrow limits vertically, a few feet or a few
yards at most; but the coast-lines of the globe (including inland lakes
and seas) have an aggregate length of more than 150,000 miles. Hence it
is easy to see that the amount of solid rock ground to powder in the
mill of the ocean-beach annually must be very considerable.
MECHANICAL EROSION.—_On the surface of the land._—I next ask attention
to the _mechanical_ action of water upon the _surface_ of the land.
It is a familiar fact that after heavy rains the roadside rills carry
along much sand and clay (which we know have been produced by the
previous action of chemical forces), and also frequently small pebbles
or gravel. It is easy to show that in all important respects the rill
differs in size only from brooks and rivers; and the former afford us
fine models of the systems of valleys worn out during the lapse of ages
by rivers. The turbidity of rivers is often very evident, and in shallow
streams we can sometimes see the pebbles rolled along by the current.
Now here, just as on the beach, the collisions of rock-fragments are
attended by mutual abrasion, sand and clay are formed, and the fragments
become smaller and rounder. Our series of pebbles from the beach might
be matched perfectly among the river-gravel. In mountain streams
especially we may often observe that pebbles of a particular kind of
rock become more numerous, larger, and more angular as we proceed up
stream, until we reach the solid ledge from which they were derived,
showing the same gradation as the beach pebbles when followed back to
the parent cliff.
The pebbles, however, not only grind each other, but also the solid
rocks which form the bed of the streams in many places, and these are
gradually worn away. When the rocky bed is uneven and the water is
swift, pebbles collect in hollows where eddies are formed, by which they
are kept whirling and turning, and the hollow is deepened to a pot-hole,
while the pebbles, the river’s tools, are worn out at the same time.
By these observations we learn not only that running water carries away
sand and clay already formed, but that it also has great power of
grinding down hard rocks to sand and clay. Of course the pulverized rock
always moves in the same direction as the stream which carries it; and,
in a certain sense, all streams run in one direction, viz., toward the
sea. Therefore the constant tendency of the rain falling upon the land
is to break up the rocks by chemical and mechanical action and transport
the débris to the sea.
Rivers, as we all know, are continually uniting to form larger and
larger streams; and thus the drainage of a wide area sometimes, as in
the case of the Mississippi Valley, reaches the sea through a single
mouth. By careful measurements made at the mouth of the Mississippi it
has been shown that the 20,000,000,000,000 cubic feet of water
discharged into the Gulf of Mexico annually carries with it no less than
7,500,000,000 cubic feet of sand, clay, and dissolved mineral matter;
and this, spread over the whole Mississippi basin, would form a layer a
little more than 1/5000 of a foot in thickness. So that we may conclude
| 295.779998 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.9630090 | 2,692 | 7 |
Produced by David Widger
NIGHT WATCHES
by W.W. Jacobs
EASY MONEY
A lad of about twenty stepped ashore from the schooner Jane, and joining
a girl, who had been avoiding for some ten minutes the ardent gaze of
the night-watchman, set off arm-in-arm. The watchman rolled his eyes
and shook his head slowly.
Nearly all his money on 'is back, he said, and what little bit 'e's got
over he'll spend on 'er. And three months arter they're married he'll
wonder wot 'e ever saw in her. If a man marries he wishes he 'adn't,
and if he doesn't marry he wishes he 'ad. That's life.
Looking at them two young fools reminds me of a nevy of Sam Small's; a
man I think I've spoke to you of afore. As a rule Sam didn't talk much
about 'is relations, but there was a sister of 'is in the country wot 'e
was rather fond of because 'e 'adn't seen 'er for twenty years. She 'ad
got a boy wot 'ad just got a job in London, and when 'e wrote and told
'er he was keeping company with the handsomest and loveliest and best
'arted gal in the whole wide world, she wrote to Sam about it and asked
'im to give 'is nevy some good advice.
Sam 'ad just got back from China and was living with Peter Russet and
Ginger Dick as usual, and arter reading the letter about seven times and
asking Ginger how 'e spelt "minx," 'e read the letter out loud to them
and asked 'em what they thought about it.
Ginger shook his 'ead, and, arter thinking a bit, Peter shook his too.
"She's caught 'im rather young," ses Ginger.
"They get it bad at that age too," ses Peter. "When I was twenty, there
was a gal as I was fond of, and a regiment couldn't ha' parted us."
"Wot did part you then?" ses Sam.
"Another gal," ses Peter; "a gal I took a fancy to, that's wot did it."
"I was nearly married when I was twenty," ses Ginger, with a far-away
look in his eyes. "She was the most beautiful gal I ever saw in my
life; she 'ad one 'undred pounds a year of 'er own and she couldn't bear
me out of her sight. If a thump acrost the chest would do that cough of
yours any good, Sam--"
"Don't take no notice of 'im, Ginger," ses Peter. "Why didn't you marry
'er?"
"'Cos I was afraid she might think I was arter 'er money," ses Ginger,
getting a little bit closer to Sam.
Peter 'ad another turn then, and him and Ginger kept on talking about
gals whose 'arts they 'ad broke till Sam didn't know what to do with
'imself.
"I'll just step round and see my nevy, while you and Peter are amusing
each other," he ses at last. "I'll ask 'im to come round to-morrow and
then you can give 'im good advice."
The nevy came round next evening. Bright, cheerful young chap 'e was,
and he agreed with everything they said. When Peter said as 'ow all
gals was deceivers, he said he'd known it for years, but they was born
that way and couldn't 'elp it; and when Ginger said that no man ought to
marry afore he was fifty, he corrected 'im and made it fifty-five.
"I'm glad to 'ear you talk like that," ses Ginger.
"So am I," ses Peter.
"He's got his 'ead screwed on right," ses Sam, wot thought his sister
'ad made a mistake.
"I'm surprised when I look round at the wimmen men 'ave married," ses
the nevy; "wot they could 'ave seen in them I can't think. Me and my
young lady often laugh about it."
"Your wot?" ses Sam, pretending to be very surprised.
"My young lady," ses the nevy.
Sam gives a cough. "I didn't know you'd got a young lady," he ses.
"Well, I 'ave," ses his nevy, "and we're going to be married at
Christmas."
"But--but you ain't fifty-five," ses Ginger.
"I'm twenty-one," ses the nevy, "but my case is different. There isn't
another young lady like mine in the world. She's different to all the
others, and it ain't likely I'm going to let 'er be snapped up by
somebody else. Fifty-five! Why, 'ow I'm to wait till Christmas I don't
know. She's the prettiest and handsomest gal in the world; and she's
the cleverest one I ever met. You ought to hear 'er laugh. Like music
it is. You'd never forget it."
"Twenty-one is young," ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead. "'Ave you known
'er long?"
"Three months," ses the nevy. "She lives in the same street as I do.
'Ow it is she ain't been snapped up before, I can't think, but she told
me that she didn't care for men till she saw me."
"They all say that," ses Ginger.
"If I've 'ad it said to me once, I've 'ad it said twenty times," ses
Peter, nodding.
"They do it to flatter," ses old Sam, looking as if 'e knew all about
it. "You wait till you are my age, Joe; then you'll know; why I should
ha' been married dozens o' times if I 'adn't been careful."
"P'r'aps it was a bit on both sides," ses Joe, looking at 'is uncle.
"P'r'aps they was careful too. If you only saw my young lady, you
wouldn't talk like that. She's got the truthfullest eyes in the world.
Large grey eyes like a child's, leastways sometimes they are grey and
sometimes they are blue. It seems to depend on the light somehow; I
'ave seen them when they was a brown-brownish-gold. And she smiles with
'er eyes."
"Hasn't she got a mouth?" ses Ginger, wot was getting a bit tired of
it.
"You've been crossed in love," ses the nevy, staring at 'im. "That's
wot's the matter with you. And looking at you, I don't wonder at it."
Ginger 'arf got up, but Sam gave him a look and 'e sat down agin, and
then they all sat quiet while the nevy went on telling them about 'is
gal.
"I should like to see 'er," ses his uncle at last.
"Call round for me at seven to-morrow night," ses the young 'un, "and
I'll introduce you."
"We might look in on our way," ses Sam, arter Ginger and Peter 'ad both
made eyes at 'im. "We're going out to spend the evening."
"The more the merrier," ses his nevy. "Well, so long; I expect she's
waiting for me."
He got up and said good-bye, and arter he 'ad gorn, Sam and the other
two shook their leads together and said what a pity it was to be twenty-
one. Ginger said it made 'im sad to think of it, and Peter said 'ow any
gal could look at a man under thirty, 'e couldn't think.
They all went round to the nevy's the next evening. They was a little
bit early owing to Ginger's watch 'aving been set right by guess-work,
and they 'ad to sit in a row on the nevy's bed waiting while 'e cleaned
'imself, and changed his clothes. Although it was only Wednesday 'e
changed his collar, and he was so long making up 'is mind about his
necktie that 'is uncle tried to make it up for him. By the time he 'ad
finished Sam said it made 'im think it was Sunday.
Miss Gill was at 'ome when they got there, and all three of 'em was very
much surprised that such a good-looking gal should take up with Sam's
nevy. Ginger nearly said so, but Peter gave 'im a dig in the back just
in time and 'e called him something under 'is breath instead.
"Why shouldn't we all make an evening of it?" ses Ginger, arter they 'ad
been talking for about ten minutes, and the nevy 'ad looked at the clock
three or four times.
"Because two's company," ses Mrs. Gill. "Why you was young yourself
once. Can't you remember?"
"He's young now, mother," ses the gal, giving Ginger a nice smile.
"I tell you wot we might do," ses Mrs. Gill, putting 'er finger to her
forehead and considering. "You and Joe go out and 'ave your evening,
and me and these gentlemen'll go off together somewhere. I shall enjoy
an outing; I ain't 'ad one for a long time."
Ginger said it would be very nice if she thought it wouldn't make 'er
too tired, and afore Sam or Peter could think of anything to say, she
was upstairs putting 'er bonnet on. They thought o' plenty to say while
they was sitting alone with Ginger waiting for 'er.
"My idea was for the gal and your nevy to come too," ses pore Ginger.
"Then I thought we might lose 'im and I would 'ave a little chat with
the gal, and show 'er 'ow foolish she was."
"Well, you've done it now," ses Sam. "Spoilt our evening."
"P'r'aps good will come out of it," ses Ginger. "If the old lady takes
a fancy to us we shall be able to come agin, and then to please you,
Sam, I'll have a go to cut your nevy out."
Sam stared at 'im, and Peter stared too, and then they looked at each
other and began to laugh till Ginger forgot where 'e was and offered to
put Sam through the winder. They was still quarrelling under their
breath and saying wot they'd like to do to each other when Mrs. Gill
came downstairs. Dressed up to the nines she was, and they walked down
the street with a feeling that everybody was looking at em.
One thing that 'elped to spoil the evening was that Mrs. Gill wouldn't
go into public'ouses, but to make up for it she went into sweet-stuff
shops three times and 'ad ices while they stood and watched 'er and
wondered 'ow she could do it. And arter that she stopped at a place
Poplar way, where there was a few swings and roundabouts and things.
She was as skittish as a school-gal, and arter taking pore Sam on the
roundabout till 'e didn't know whether he was on his 'eels or his 'ead,
she got 'im into a boat-swing and swung 'im till he felt like a boy on
'is fust v'y'ge. Arter that she took 'im to the rifle gallery, and
afore he had 'ad three shots the man took the gun away from 'im and
threatened to send for the police.
It was an expensive evening for all of them, but as Ginger said when
they got 'ome they 'ad broken the ice, and he bet Peter Russet 'arf a
dollar that afore two days 'ad passed he'd take the nevy's gal for a
walk. He stepped round by 'imself the next arternoon and made 'imself
agreeable to Mrs. Gill, and the day arter they was both so nice and kind
that 'e plucked up 'is courage and offered to take Miss Gill to the Zoo.
She said "No" at fust, of course, but arter Ginger 'ad pointed out that
Joe was at work all day and couldn't take 'er 'imself, and that 'e was
Joe's uncle's best pal, she began to think better of it.
"Why not?" ses her mother. " | 295.983049 |
2023-11-16 18:22:00.1597390 | 299 | 46 |
Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
THE DAY'S WORK
By Rudyard Kipling
CONTENTS
THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS
A WALKING DELEGATE
THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF
THE TOMB OF HIS ANCESTORS
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR
.007
THE MALTESE CAT
BREAD UPON THE WATERS
AN ERROR IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION
MY SUNDAY AT HOME
THE BRUSHWOOD BOY
THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS
The least that Findlayson, of the Public Works Department, expected was
a C. I. E.; he dreamed of a C. S. I.: indeed, his friends told him
that he deserved more. For three years he had endured heat and cold,
disappointment, discomfort, danger, and disease, with responsibility
almost too heavy for one pair of shoulders; and day by day, through that
time, the great Kashi Bridge over the Ganges had grown under his charge.
Now, in less than three months, if all went well, his Excellency the
Viceroy would open the bridge in state, an archbishop would bless it,
and the first trainload of soldiers would come over it, and there would
be speeches.
Findlayson, C. E | 296.179779 |
2023-11-16 18:22:00.1821970 | 2,462 | 11 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Squire's Little Girl
By L.T. Meade
Illustrations by Lewis Baumer
Published by W and R Chambers, Ltd, London and Edinburgh.
This edition dated 1902.
The Squire's Little Girl, by L.T. Meade.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE SQUIRE'S LITTLE GIRL, BY L.T. MEADE.
CHAPTER ONE.
The Squire's little daughter rode her pony down the avenue. She stopped
for a moment at the gate, and the children at the other side could get a
good view of her. There were four children, and they pressed together
and nudged each other, and took in the small erect figure, and her
sturdy pony, with open eyes and lips slightly apart. The Squire's
daughter was a fresh arrival at Harringay. Her existence had always
been known, the children of the village and the children of the Rectory
had talked of her, but she had never come to live amongst them until
now, for her mother had died at her birth, and her father had gone to
live abroad, and Phyllis, the one child of his house, had been with him.
Now he had returned; Phyllis was twelve years old; the Hall was open
once more, full of servants and full of guests, and Phyllis Harringay
rode her pony in full view of the Rectory children. Phyllis had a
thick, rather short bush of tawny hair. Her eyes were of a grey blue,
her little features were short and straight, and her small face had many
freckles on it. She was by no means a pretty child, but there was
something piquant and at the same time dignified about her. She stopped
now to speak to Mrs Ashley, the woman at the Lodge; and the children
pressed a little nearer, and Ralph touched Rose, and Rose nodded to
Susie, and all three gazed at Edward with the same question on each pair
of lips and in each pair of eyes.
"Shall we introduce ourselves," said Susie to her brother. "Do say yes,
Ned; it is such an opportunity, and we are longing to know her. Do say
that we may speak to her now."
But Ned shook his head. "It is not manners," he said; "we must not push
ourselves on her. If, indeed, we could do anything for her it would be
different."
And just then, as if to help the children in their darling wish, the
white gates which led to the Hall refused to open at Phyllis's push, and
Ned and Ralph both rushed to the rescue.
"Thank you," said Phyllis, with a toss of her head and a smile in her
bright eyes. Then she paused and looked the boys all over. They were
sturdy little chaps, and Ned in particular had the brightest brown eyes
and the most honest face in the world.
"It is awfully dull, isn't it?" said the Squire's daughter. "I wonder
how any one can live in a place like this. Are there more than two of
you, and have you lived here always?"
"There are more than two of us," answered Ned, lifting his cap in the
most polite manner, "and we don't find it dull. Here are my two
sisters," he added; "may we introduce ourselves to you?"
"Oh, what a funny speech, and how nice it sounds!" cried Phyllis. "Four
of you, and all children! I haven't spoken to anything approaching a
child for a whole fortnight. If it wasn't for Bob here,"--she laid her
hand on her pony's mane as she spoke--"I believe I should lose my
senses."
"Well, you are all right now," said Ned, who certainly never lost his.
"Here's Susie, and she's dying to know you; and here's Rosie, and I do
believe she'd let her hair be cut short just for the pleasure of looking
at you. And here am I, at your service; and I think I can promise that
Ralph will do everything for you that boy could."
Phyllis's little face turned quite a bright pink. She glanced eagerly
at both the girls, then she looked at Ralph, and finally she laughed.
"Let's be friends," she said. "I don't know who you are nor anything
about you, but, oh, you are human beings, you are children! and I am so
glad--I am so glad."
As she said the last words she held out her hand to Ned. He clasped it,
and then let it drop, while the colour filled his own brown face.
"This makes all the difference in the world," said Phyllis. "What shall
we do? How are we to spend the afternoon? You don't suppose, you four,
that I'm going to lose sight of you, for if you do you are greatly
mistaken."
"What shall we do? Where shall we go?" cried Susie.
She came close to Phyllis and looked earnestly into her face.
Susie was a very pretty little girl; she had bright black eyes and a
quantity of curling black hair, and her cheeks were rosy like the soft
bloom of a peach, and her lips when she opened them showed pearly-white
teeth.
Phyllis looked right down into Susie's black eyes, and something in her
heart stirred, so that the colour suffused her face, and she had
difficulty in keeping back her tears.
"You are the Rectory children," she said; "please tell me what your
surname is."
"Hilchester," said Ralph, without a moment's hesitation. "Oh! you will
like father so much, Phyllis."
"And mother too," cried Rosie.
"Well, I tell you what it is," cried Phyllis. "I am going with you as
far as ever you'll take me. Take me to the wildest and highest place in
this neighbourhood, then I'll get off my pony and run; I want to run for
bare life; I want to feel wild and free; I want to forget that I'm the
Squire's little daughter, and that I've lots of money and grand dresses.
I want to be, oh, _shabby_! oh, _wild_! dancing, joyful, just as if I
hadn't a care in the world."
"Let's do it," cried Susie. "I know how; I know where. We'll take her
to the Friar's Mount, won't we, Ralph? Oh, you may ride, pretty little
Phyllis, but I don't think your pony can take you faster than we can
run, and when we get to the Friar's Mount you'll know what freedom
means."
"I should just think so," cried Phyllis. "I felt in prison until I saw
you all, and now I'm so happy."
She touched Bob's neck with her whip, and soon she was cantering down
the village street, the Rectory children following at her heels.
"Hullo!" cried a merry voice. "Where are you going, Phyl? Stop this
instant, and tell me."
The words came from Squire Harringay. He was standing on the steps of
the principal inn. He did not know his little daughter with her cheeks
on fire, her eyes bright, her mane of hair standing out from her pretty
neck, and four shabbily dressed but decidedly energetic children
following her.
"Don't keep me now, Dad," was Phyllis's answer. "I've found playmates,
and I am going to have a real good time. I'll tell you in the evening,
but not now."
The gay little party turned a corner and were soon lost to view. The
Squire turned to a neighbour--
"That's a pretty sight!" he exclaimed. "And who are those young
termagants who, to all appearance, have made my little daughter lose her
senses?"
"The Rectory children," was the response; "quite the wildest young imps
in the countryside."
"Phyllis will be a match for them," said her father, and he rubbed his
hands in a contented manner.
CHAPTER TWO.
Phyllis came home quite late. Her habit was torn; Bob, the pony, was
covered with mud; mud had also been splashed all over the little girl's
neat costume--even her face and hands were more or less disfigured by
it. Her curly hair was disfigured too with the mud from the swamps and
dirty roads over which she had passed, but there was a brilliant colour
in her cheeks and a happy light in her eyes. She rode into the yard,
and a groom came up to take her pony.
"Miss Phyllis," he exclaimed, "you have Bob in a lather!"
"Oh, never mind," said Phyllis; "I have had a jolly time. I have found
playmates."
The groom touched his hat respectfully. It was the custom to be very
respectful to the Squire's little daughter. She entered the house. Her
governess, Miss Fleet, was waiting in the hall to receive her.
"Where have you been?" she said in a stern voice.
"Oh, Miss Fleet," cried Phyllis, "I have had such a time!--such fun,
such delight! I met a lot of children, and I went up on to the hills
with them. They are quite the most splendid children I ever came across
in the whole course of my life. There are four of them--two boys and
two girls."
"Don't you even know their names?" asked Miss Fleet.
"Yes, yes, of course. One is called Ned, and one Ralph; and there is a
girl Susie, and another Rosie; and they adore me, and, oh, I am so
happy!"
"You are very nearly late for dinner," said Miss Fleet, "and you are in
a most disgraceful mess; it will take half-an-hour to clean you and make
you respectable; and you missed your music-master. In short, you are a
very naughty girl."
"I am a very happy girl," said Phyllis in the most contented voice in
the world. "Please don't scold me, Miss Fleet; but I may as well say at
once that I don't greatly care whether you are angry or not."
"Oh, don't you?" said Miss Fleet. "Do you suppose I am going to put up
with such a very disobedient little girl?" Her voice was stern. She
did not often scold Phyllis, for Phyllis, as a rule, was too good to be
reprimanded. She followed her now to her pleasant bedroom. There Nurse
was waiting to pet the little girl and make her presentable for dinner.
Miss Fleet looked into the room and said, "Here she is, Nurse, and I am
extremely angry with her;" and then the governess closed the door and
walked away.
Phyllis gazed at Nurse, her eyes brimful of laughter. Then | 296.202237 |
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P R E H I S T O R I C M A N
[Illustration]
[Illustration: KASKATACHYUH.
A CHIMPSEYAN CHIEF.
Drawn by D. Wilson LL.D. from sketches by Paul Kane.
Cooper & Hodson Lith. 188, Strand, London, W.C.]
P R E H I S T O R I C M A N
Researches into the Origin of Civilisation
in the Old and the New World.
BY
DANIEL WILSON, LL.D., F.R.S.E.
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY & ENGLISH LITERATURE IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, TORONTO;
AUTHOR OF THE ‘PREHISTORIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND,’ ETC.
THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED,
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON:
M A C M I L L A N A N D C O.
1876.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
Edinburgh University Press:
THOMAS AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY.
IN FOND MEMORIAL
OF A BROTHER’S LIFE-LONG SYMPATHY
IN MANY FAVOURITE RESEARCHES
THESE VOLUMES
DEPRIVED BY DEATH OF THEIR PURPOSED DEDICATION
ARE INSCRIBED WITH THE LOVED NAME OF
GEORGE WILSON, M.D. F.R.S.E.
LATE REGIUS PROFESSOR OF TECHNOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH
AND DIRECTOR OF THE INDUSTRIAL MUSEUM OF SCOTLAND.
P R E F A C E.
THE subject primarily treated of in the following pages is the man of
that new hemisphere which was revealed to Europe in 1492. There through
all historic centuries he had lived apart, absolutely uninfluenced by
any reflex of the civilisation of the Ancient World; and yet, as it
appears, pursuing a course in many respects strikingly analogous to that
by means of which the civilisation of Europe originated. The recognition
of this is not only of value as an aid to the realisation of the
necessary conditions through which man passed in reaching the stage at
which he is found at the dawn of history; but it seems to point to the
significant conclusion that civilisation is the development of
capacities inherent in man.
The term used in the title was first employed, in 1851, in my
_Prehistoric Annals of Scotland_, where evidence was adduced in proof of
man’s presence in Britain “long anterior to the earliest indications of
the Aryan nations passing into Europe.” It was purposely coined to
express the whole period disclosed to us by means of archæological
evidence, as distinguished from what is known through written records;
and in this sense the term was speedily adopted by the Archæologists of
Europe. But the subject thus defined is a comprehensive one; and in its
rapid growth, distinctive subdivisions have been introduced which tend
to narrow the application of the term. Nevertheless it is still a
legitimate definition of man, wherever his history is recoverable solely
by means of primitive arts.
The first edition of _Prehistoric Man_, published in 1862, was followed
in 1865 by another, carefully revised in accordance with later
disclosures. Since then I have availed myself of further opportunities
for study and research in reference both to existing races, and to the
arts and monumental remains of extinct nations of the New World. Within
the same period important additions have been contributed to our
knowledge not only of the arts, but of the physical characteristics of
primeval man in Europe. In the present edition, accordingly, much of the
original work has been rewritten. Several chapters have been replaced by
new matter. Others have been condensed, or recast, with | 296.379803 |
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Team at http://www.pgd | 296.517829 |
2023-11-16 18:22:00.6620350 | 853 | 7 | ***The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Diary of Samuel Pepys***
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THE
Lives of the Saints
REV. S. BARING-GOULD
_SIXTEEN VOLUMES_
VOLUME THE FIRST
[Illustration: SILVER-GILT MONSTRANCE,
In the Treasury of the Cathedral, Aix-la-Chapelle.]
THE
Lives of the Saints
BY THE
REV. S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.
New Edition in 16 Volumes
Revised with Introduction and Additional Lives of
English Martyrs, Cornish and Welsh Saints,
and a full Index to the Entire Work
_ILLUSTRATED BY OVER 400 ENGRAVINGS_
VOLUME THE FIRST
January
LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14 KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND
MDCCCXCVII
_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
_At the Ballantyne Press_
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
TO FIRST EDITION
(1872)
The Lives of the Saints, which I have begun, is an undertaking, of
whose difficulty few can have any idea. Let it be remembered, that
there were Saints in every century, for eighteen hundred years; that
their Acts are interwoven with the profane history of their times,
and that the history, not of one nation only, but of almost every
nation under the sun; that the records of these lives are sometimes
fragmentary, sometimes mere hints to be culled out of secular history;
that authentic records have sometimes suffered interpolation, and that
some records are forgeries; that the profane history with which the
lives of the Saints is mixed up is often dark and hard to be read; and
then some idea may be formed of the difficulty of this undertaking.
After having had to free the Acts of a martyr from a late accretion of
fable, and to decide whether the passion took place under--say Decius
or Diocletian, Claudius the Elder, or Claudius the younger,--the writer
of a hagiology is hurried into Byzantine politics, and has to collect
the thread of a saintly confessor's life from the tangle of political
and ecclesiastical intrigue, in that chaotic period when emperors
rose and fell, and patriarchs succeeded each other with bewildering
rapidity. And thence he is, by a step, landed in the romance world of
Irish hagiology, where the footing is as insecure as on the dark bogs
of the Emerald Isle. Thence he strides into the midst of the wreck
of Charlemagne's empire, to gather among the splinters of history a
few poor mean notices of those holy ones living then, whose names
have survived, but whose acts are all but lost. And then the scene
changes, and he treads the cool cloister of a mediaeval abbey, to glean
materials for a memoir of some peaceful recluse, which may reflect
the crystalline purity of the life without being wholly colourless of
incident.
And then, maybe, he has to stand in the glare of the great
conflagration of the sixteenth century, and mark some pure soul passing
unscathed through the fire, like the lamp in Abraham's vision.
That one man can do justice to this task is not to be expected. When
Bellarmine heard of the undertaking of Rosweydus, he asked "What is
this man's age? does he expect to live two hundred years?" But for the
work of the Bollandists, it would have been an impossibility for me to
undertake this task. But even with this great storehouse open, the work
to be got through is enormous. Bollandus began January with two folios
in double columns, close print, of 1200 pages each. As he and his
coadjutors proceeded, fresh materials came in, and February occupies
three volumes. May swelled into seven folios, September into eight,
and October into ten. It was begun in 1643, and the fifty-seventh
volume appeared in 1861.
The labour of reading, digesting, and selecting from this library is
enormous. With so much material it is hard to decide what to omit, but
such a decision must be made, for the two volumes of January have to
be crushed into one, not a tenth of the size of one of Bollandus, and
the ten volumes for October must suffer compression to an hundredth
degree, so as to occupy the same dimensions. I had two courses open to
me. One to give a brief outline, bare of incident, of the life of every
Saint; the other to diminish the number of lives, and present them to
the reader in greater fulness, and with some colour. I have adopted
this latter course, but I have omitted no Saint of great historical
interest. I have been compelled to put aside a great number of lesser
known saintly religious, whose eventless lives flowed uniformly in
prayer, vigil, and mortification.
In writing the lives of the Saints, I have used my discretion, also,
in relating only those miracles which are most remarkable, either
for being fairly well authenticated, or for their intrinsic beauty
or quaintness, or because they are often represented in art, and are
therefore of interest to the archaeologist. That errors in judgment,
and historical inaccuracies, have crept into this volume, and may find
their way into those that succeed, is, I fear, inevitable. All I can
promise is, that I have used my best endeavours to be accurate, having
had recourse to all such modern critical works as have been accessible
to me, for the determining of dates, and the estimation of authorities.
Believing that in some three thousand and six hundred memoirs of
men, many of whose lives closely resembled each other, it would be
impossible for me to avoid a monotony of style which would become as
tedious to the reader as vexatious to myself, I have occasionally
admitted the lives of certain Saints by other writers, thereby giving a
little freshness to the book, where there could not fail otherwise to
have been aridity; but I have, I believe, in no case, inserted a life
by another pen, without verifying the authorities.
At the head of every article the authority for the life is stated,
to which the reader is referred for fuller details. The editions of
these authorities are not given, as it would have greatly extended
the notices, and such information can readily be obtained from that
invaluable guide to the historian of the Middle Ages, Potthast:
_Bibliotheca Historica Medii Aevi_, Berlin, 1862; the second part of
which is devoted to the Saints.
I have no wish that my work should be regarded as intended to supplant
that of Alban Butler. My line is somewhat different from his. He
confined his attention to the historical outlines of the saintly lives,
and he rarely filled them in with anecdote. Yet it is the little
details of a man's life that give it character, and impress themselves
on the memory. People forget the age and parentage of S. Gertrude, but
they remember the mouse running up her staff.
A priest of the Anglican Church, I have undertaken to write a book
which I hope and trust will be welcome to Roman and Anglican Catholics,
alike. It would have been unseemly to have carried prejudice,
impertinent to have obtruded sectarianism, into a work like this. I
have been called to tread holy ground, and kneel in the midst of the
great company of the blessed; and the only fitting attitude of the
mind for such a place, and such society, is reverence. In reading the
miracles recorded of the Saints, of which the number is infinite, the
proper spirit to observe is, not doubt, but discrimination. Because
much is certainly apocryphal in these accounts, we must not therefore
reject what may be true. The present age, in its vehement naturalism,
places itself, as it were, outside of the circle of spiritual
phenomena, and is as likely to deny the supernatural agency in a
marvel, as a mediaeval was liable to attribute a natural phenomenon to
spiritual causes. In such cases we must consider the evidence and its
worth or worthlessness. It may be that, in God's dealings with men, at
a time when natural means of cure were unattainable, the supernatural
should abound, but that when the science of medicine became perfected,
and the natural was rendered available to all, the supernatural should,
to some extent, at least, be withdrawn.
Of the Martyrologies referred to, it may be as well to mention the
dates of the most important. That of Ado is of the ninth century,
Bede's of the eighth;[1] there are several bearing the name of S.
Jerome, which differ from one another, they are forms of the ancient
Roman Martyrology. The Martyrology of Notker (D. 912), of Rabanus
Maurus (D. 856), of Usuardus (875), of Wandalbert (circ. 881). The
general catalogue of the Saints by Ferrarius was published in 1625,
the Martyrology of Maurolycus was composed in 1450, and published
1568. The modern Roman Martyrology is based on that of Usuardus. It
is impossible, in the limited space available for a preface, to say
all that is necessary on the various Kalendars, and Martyrologies,
that exist, also on the mode in which some of the Saints have received
apotheosis. Comparatively few Saints have received formal canonization
at Rome; popular veneration was regarded as sufficient in the mediaeval
period, before order and system were introduced; thus there are many
obscure Saints, famous in their own localities, and perhaps entered in
the kalendar of the diocese, whose claims to their title have never
been authoritatively inquired into, and decided upon. There is also
great confusion in the monastic kalendars in appropriating titles
to those commemorated; here a holy one is called "the Venerable,"
there "the Blessed," and in another "Saint." With regard also to the
estimation of authorities, the notes of genuineness of the Acts of
the martyrs, the tests whereby apocryphal lives and interpolations
may be detected, I should have been glad to have been able to make
observations. But this is a matter which there is not space to enter
upon here.
The author cannot dismiss the work without expressing a hope that it
may be found to meet a want which he believes has long been felt; for
English literature is sadly deficient in the department of hagiology.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This only exists in an interpolated condition.
INTRODUCTION
TO THE
LIVES OF THE SAINTS
THE MARTYROLOGIES
A martyrology means, properly, a list of witnesses. The martyrologies
are catalogues in which are to be found the names of the Saints, with
the days and places of their deaths, and generally with the distinctive
character of their sanctity, and with an historic summary of their
lives. The name is incorrect if we use the word "martyr" in its
restricted sense as a witness unto death. "Hagiology" would be more
suitable, as a martyrology includes the names of many Saints who were
not martyrs. But the term "Martyrology" was given to this catalogue at
an early age, when it was customary to commemorate only those who were
properly martyrs, having suffered death in testimony to their faith; but
it is not unsuitable if we regard as martyrs all those who by their
lives have testified to the truth, as indeed we are justified in doing.
In the primitive Church it was customary for the Holy Eucharist to be
celebrated on the anniversary of the death of a martyr--if possible, on
his tomb. Where in one diocese there were several martyrs, as, for
instance, in that of Caesarea, there were many days in the year on which
these commemorations were made, and the Church--say that of
Caesarea--drew up a calendar with the days marked on which these
festivals occurred.
In his "Church History," Eusebius quotes a letter from the Church of
Smyrna, in which, after giving an account of the martyrdom of their
bishop, S. Polycarp, the disciple of S. John the Divine, the Smyrnians
observe: "Our subtle enemy, the devil, did his utmost that we should not
take away the body, as many of us anxiously wished. | 296.784125 |
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THE MOUNTAIN OF FEARS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BY HENRY C. ROWLAND
--------------
To Windward
THIRD EDITION
“Crisp and strong, full of breeziness and virile humanity.”—Brooklyn
Eagle.
“A capital story told with a spirit and go that are irresistible. A
strong and dramatic novel. Shows literary genius.”—Newark Advertiser.
--------------
The Wanderers
THIRD EDITION
“A little breathless toward the end, the reader enjoys every moment
spent with Brian Kinard, the roving son of an Irish earl.”—Chicago
Record-Herald.
“Full of complications and surprises which hold the reader’s attention
to the end. An unusually good story of actual life at sea.”—Boston
Transcript.
--------------
Each with frontispiece in colors, by
Ch. Weber-Ditzler.
12mo. Cloth. $1.50
--------------
A. S. BARNES & COMPANY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: “I see that you go in for heads a bit yourself,” said
Lynch.––Page 99]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mountain
of Fears
By
Henry C. Rowland
Author of “The Wanderers”, “To Windward”
and “Sea Scamps”.
Illustrated
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo | 296.784131 |
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SINISTER STREET
BY
COMPTON MACKENZIE
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF OTHER BOOKS BY COMPTON MACKENZIE
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF
Kensington Rhymes
_By_ COMPTON MACKENZIE
_SATURDAY REVIEW:_
"These are particularly jolly rhymes, that any really good sort of
a chap, say a fellow of about ten would like. Mr. J. R. Monsell's
pictures are exceptionally jolly too.... If we may judge by
ourselves, not only the children, but the grown-ups of the family
will be enchanted by this quite delightful and really first-rate
book."
_DAILY MAIL:_
"Among the picture-books of the season, pride of place must go to
Mr. Compton Mackenzie's 'Kensington Rhymes.' They are full of quiet
humour and delicate insight into the child-mind."
_OBSERVER:_
"Far the best rhymes of the year are 'Kensington Rhymes,' by
Compton Mackenzie, almost the best things of the kind since the
'Child's Garden of Verse.'"
_ATHENAEUM:_
"Will please children of all ages, and also contains much that will
not be read without a sympathetic smile by grown-ups possessed of a
sense of humour."
_TIMES:_
"The real gift of child poetry, sometimes almost with a
Stevensonian ring."
_OUTLOOK:_
"What Henley did for older Londoners, Mr. Compton Mackenzie and Mr.
Monsell have done for the younger generation."
_STANDARD:_
"Our hearts go out first to Mr. Compton Mackenzie's 'Kensington
Rhymes.'"
_SUNDAY TIMES:_
"Full of whimsical observation and genuine insight, 'Kensington
Rhymes' by Compton Mackenzie are certainly entertaining."
_EVENING STANDARD:_
"Something of the charm of Christina Rossetti's."
_VOTES FOR WOMEN:_
"They breathe the very conventional and stuffy air of
Kensington.... We are bound to say that the London child we tried
it on liked the book."
MARTIN SECKER, NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET, ADELPHI
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF
The Passionate Elopement
_By_ COMPTON MACKENZIE
_TIMES:_
"We are grateful to him for wringing our hearts with the 'tears and
laughter of spent joys.'"
_SPECTATOR:_
"As an essay in literary bravura the book is quite remarkable."
_COUNTRY LIFE:_
"In the kindliness, the humour and the gentleness of the treatment,
it comes as near to Thackeray, as any man has come since
Thackeray."
_DAILY CHRONICLE:_
"Thanks for a rare entertainment! And, if the writing of your story
pleased you as much as the reading of it has pleased us,
congratulations too."
_GLOBE:_
"A little tenderness, a fragrant aroma of melancholy laid away in
lavender, a hint of cynicism, an airy philosophy--and so a wholly
piquant, subtly aromatic dish, a rosy apple stuck with cloves."
_GLASGOW NEWS:_
"Fresh and faded, mocking yet passionate, | 297.379035 |
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THE LADIES' GUIDE
TO TRUE
POLITENESS AND PERFECT MANNERS;
OR,
MISS LESLIE'S BEHAVIOUR BOOK.
A GUIDE AND MANUAL FOR LADIES,
AS REGARDS THEIR
CONVERSATION; MANNERS; DRESS; INTRODUCTIONS; ENTRE TO SOCIETY;
SHOPPING; CONDUCT IN THE STREET; AT PLACES OF AMUSEMENT; IN
TRAVELING; AT THE TABLE, EITHER AT HOME, IN COMPANY, OR
AT HOTELS; DEPORTMENT IN GENTLEMEN'S SOCIETY; LIPS;
COMPLEXION; TEETH; HANDS; THE HAIR; ETC., ETC.
WITH FULL INSTRUCTIONS AND ADVICE IN
LETTER WRITING; RECEIVING PRESENTS; INCORRECT WORDS; BORROWING;
OBLIGATIONS TO GENTLEMEN; OFFENCES; CHILDREN; DECORUM IN
CHURCH; AT EVENING PARTIES; AND SUGGESTIONS IN BAD
PRACTICES AND HABITS EASILY CONTRACTED, WHICH NO
YOUNG LADY SHOULD BE GUILTY OF, ETC., ETC.
BY MISS LESLIE.
AUTHOR OF "MISS LESLIE'S CELEBRATED NEW COOKERY BOOK,"
"MISS LESLIE'S NEW RECEIPTS FOR COOKING," ETC.
Philadelphia:
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
306 CHESTNUT STREET.
* * * * *
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
It is said that soon after the publication of Nicholas Nickleby, not
fewer than six Yorkshire schoolmasters (or rather six principals of
Yorkshire institutes) took journeys to London, with the express purpose
of prosecuting Dickens for libels--"each one and severally" considering
himself shown up to the world as Mr. Squeers of Dotheboys Hall.
Now, if Dickens had drawn as graphic a picture of Dothe_girls_ Hall, we
firmly believe that none of the lady principals of similar institutes
would have committed themselves by evincing so little tact, and adopting
such impolitic proceedings. They would wisely have held back from all
appropriation of the obnoxious character, and passed it over unnoticed;
as if it could not possibly have the slightest reference to _them_.
Therefore we wish that those of our fair readers whom certain hints in
the following pages may awaken to the consciousness of a few habitual
misbehavements, (of which they were not previously aware,) should pause,
and reflect, before they allow themselves to "take umbrage too much."
Let them keep in mind that the purpose of the writer is to amend, and
not to offend; to improve her young countrywomen, and not to annoy them.
It is with this view only that she has been induced to "set down in a
note-book" such lapses from _les bienseances_ as she has remarked during
a long course of observation, and on a very diversified field.
She trusts that her readers will peruse this book in as friendly a
spirit as it was written.
ELIZA LESLIE.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
SUGGESTIONS TO VISITERS 2
THE VISITED 24
TEA VISITERS 30
THE ENTREE 47
INTRODUCTIONS 52
CON | 297.441096 |
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THE LETTERS OF A POST-IMPRESSIONIST
[Illustration]
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
ANTHONY M. LUDOVICI
[Illustration: VINCENT VAN GOGH
BY HIMSELF]
THE LETTERS OF A
POST-IMPRESSIONIST
BEING
THE FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE
OF VINCENT VAN GOGH
[Illustration: colophon]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
1913
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON VAN GOGH AND HIS ART.
Though the collection of letters contained in Cassirer's publication,
"Vincent Van Gogh. Briefe," is not a complete one, from my knowledge of
a very large number of the letters which are not included in this
volume, I feel able to say that the present selection is in any case
very representative and contains all that is essential in respect to Van
Gogh's art-credo and general attitude of mind.
For reasons into which it is unnecessary for me to enter here, it was
found convenient to adopt the form of Cassirer's publication arranged by
Margarete Mauthner, and my translation has therefore been made from the
German (Fourth Edition, 1911). Still, with the view of avoiding the
errors which were bound to creep into a double translation of this sort,
I took care, when my version was complete, to compare it with as many of
the original French letters as I was able to find, and I am glad to say
that by this means I succeeded in satisfying myself as to the accuracy
of every line from page 39 to the end.
The letters printed up to page 38, some of which I fancy must have been
written in Dutch--a language which in any case I could not have
read--have not been compared with the originals. But, seeing that the
general quality of the German translation of the letters after page 39
was so good that I was able to discover only the small handful of
inaccuracies referred to in the appendix, I think the reader may rest
assured that the matter covering pages 1 to 38 is sufficiently
trustworthy for all ordinary purposes.
I say that "I fancy" some of the letters which occur between pages 1 and
38 were written in Dutch; for I am not by any means certain of this. In
any case I can vouch for the fact that the originals of all the letters
after page 38 were in French, as I have seen them. But in this respect
Paul Gauguin's remark about his friend Van Gogh is not without interest:
"Il oubliait meme," wrote the famous painter of negresses, "d'ecrire le
hollandais, et comme on a pu voir par la publication de ses lettres a
son frere, il n'ecrivait jamais qu'en francais, et cela admirablement,
avec des 'Tant qu'a, Quant a,' a n'en plus finir."[1]
Rather than disfigure my pages with a quantity of notes, I preferred to
put my remarks relative to the divergencies between the original French
and the German in the form of an appendix (to which the Numbers 1 to 35
in the text refer), and have thus kept only those notes in the text
which were indispensable for the proper understanding of the book. Be
this as it may, the inaccuracies and doubts discussed in the appendix
are, on the whole, of such slight import, that those readers who do not
wish to be interrupted by pedantic quibbles will be well advised if they
simply read straight on, without heeding the figures in the text. To
protect myself against fault-finders, however, such readers will
understand that it was necessary for me to prepare some sort of a list
referring to those passages which, in the German, differed even slightly
from the French original.
In the letters not included in Cassirer's publication, there are, of
course, a few passages which, for obvious reasons, could never have been
brought before the German or English reading public; as will be seen,
however, the present letters in themselves are but more or less lengthy
fragments, carefully edited by the friends of the deceased painter,
while the almost complete omission of dates and other biographical
information usually accompanying a volume of this sort, may also at
first be felt as a rather disturbing blemish.
I would like, however, to seize this opportunity to defend Margarete
Mauthner against the charge of having made a "fantastic arrangement" of
these letters; for, if the person who made this charge had only been
acquainted with the facts of the case, he would have known that she had
done no more (at least from page 39 onwards) than faithfully to follow
Emile Bernard's original arrangement of his friend's correspondence in
the "Mercure de France"; and surely we must assume that Emile Bernard,
Van Gogh's devoted admirer, was the best judge as to what should, or
should not, appear of all that his friend had written.
With regard to dates, however, Emile Bernard does give a little more
information than Margarete Mauthner; but it is very little, and it is as
follows: the letters to E. Bernard from page 39 to page 73 were written
during 1887; those from page 73 to page 86 were written during 1888;
those from page 108 to page 112 were written during 1889, and the
remainder, as Margarete Mauthner also tells us, were written during
1890. Of the letters to Van Gogh's brother, I am afraid I can say
nothing more definite than that all those which occur after page 87 were
written in Arles, and probably San Remy, between 1887 and 1890.
Now, postponing for a moment, the discussion of Van Gogh's actual place
in the history of the art of the nineteenth century, and bearing in mind
the amount of adverse criticism with which his work has met for many
years, it does not seem irrelevant here to lay stress upon the fact that
these letters are all _private, intimate_ communications, never intended
to reach the public eye. And I feel all the more inclined to emphasize
this point, seeing that, to the lay student of art, as also to the
art-student himself, it is often a difficult task to take the sincerity
of the art-innovator for granted. Confronted with a new technique and an
apparently unprecedented conception of the outer-world--faced, in fact,
by a patch of strange blood; for that is what it comes to after all--we
are prone to doubt that our man is _bona fide_. Filled with the
prejudices and prepossessions of centuries, and knowing from sad
experience that the art-world is not without its arch-humbugs, we find
it difficult to believe that such a strange and foreign grasp of reality
could actually have been felt by the innovator in our midst. And, rather
than question our own values and our own grasp of reality, we
instinctively, and, as I think, very healthily, incline to doubt the
sincerity of the representative of this new standpoint which is
offensive to us.
In Van Gogh's case, however, we are particularly fortunate; for we
possess these letters which are proof enough of the sincerity with which
he pursued his calling. And, as I say, he did not write them for the
press, nor did he compose them as a conscious teacher. They simply took
shape quite naturally in his moments of respite, when he felt the need
of unburdening his heart to some sympathetic listener; and in writing
them he was as ingenuous and as unembarrassed as a child. He wrote to
his brother and to a bosom friend, Emile Bernard. As I have mentioned,
a good deal in these letters had to be suppressed--and very naturally
too. For if this correspondence had not contained much that was of too
intimate a character for publication, it is obvious that the very parts
that were considered publishable, would not have had a quarter of the
value which we must now ascribe to them. It is precisely because these
letters are, as it were, soliloquies which Van Gogh held in the presence
of his own soul, that they seem to me to be of such incalculable value
to all who think and work in the domain of art, and even in the domain
of psychology and morality to-day.
For everyone who is acquainted with the literature of Aesthetic, must
know how poor we are in human documents of this nature, and how
comparatively valueless the greater part even of our poor treasure is,
when it is compared with the profound works which men who were not
themselves painters or sculptors, have contributed to our literature on
the subject.
Who has not been disappointed on reading Ghiberti's commentaries,
Leonardo's note books, Vasari's discourses on "Technique," Antoine
Raphael Mengs's treatises, Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty, Reynolds'
Discourses, Alfred Stevens' Aphorisms, etc.? But who has not felt that
he was foredoomed to disappointment in each case? For an artist who
could express the "why" and the "how" of his productions in words would
scarcely require to wield the chisel or the brush with any special
power. The way in which one chooses to express oneself is no accident;
it is determined by the very source of one's artistic passion. A true
painter expresses himself best in paint.
With Van Gogh's letters, however, we are not concerned with a painter
who is writing a text-book for posterity, or undertaking to teach
anybody his art, or to reveal the secrets of it to his fellows. The
communications to his brother and his friend, printed in this volume,
partake much more of the nature of a running commentary to his
life-work, a Sabbath's meditation upon and contemplation of his six
days' labour, than a series of technical discourses relating to his
procedure and its merits. True, technical points arise, but they are
merely the fleeting doubts or questionings of an expert chatting
intimately with an intimate, and are quite free from any pedagogic or
didactic spirit. On the other hand, however, that which he gives us, and
which the others above-mentioned scarcely touch upon, is the record of
his misgivings and fears concerning the passion that animated him, the
value of this passion, and the meaning of his function as a painter in
the midst of civilised Europe of the nineteenth century. These letters
are not only a confession of the fact that he participated heart and
soul in the negative revolution of the latter half of that century, they
are also a revelation of the truth that he himself was a bridge leading
out of it, to better and more positive things.
He touches upon these questions lightly, as is only fitting in letters
that bear other tidings of a more prosaic nature, but he never can
conceal the earnestness with which he faced the problems that were
present in his mind, and as a stenographic report of these problems
these letters make the strongest claim upon our attention.
With regard to his ultimate dementia, I have little doubt myself as to
how it was brought about. As in the case of Nietzsche and many another
foreign or English poet or thinker, I cannot help suspecting it was the
outcome of that protracted concentration of thought upon one or two
themes (the chief characteristic of all mania, by-the-bye), which he
and a few other unfortunate and whole-hearted men found it necessary to
practise in the midst of a bustling, changing, and feverishly restless
age, if anything of _lasting_ worth was to be accomplished.
Imagine a man trying to study the laws governing a spinning top in the
midst of the traffic of the city, and you have a fair image of the kind
of task a sincere artist or thinker undertakes at the present day, if he
resolve, in the midst of the rush and flurry of our age, to probe the
deep mystery of that particular part of life to which he may happen to
feel himself drawn by his individual tastes and abilities. Not only is
he foredoomed to dementia by the circumstance of his occupation, but the
very position he assumes--bent over his task amid the racket and thunder
of the crowded thoroughfare of modern life--gives him at least the
aspect of a madman from the start.
And Van Gogh himself was perfectly aware of this. For he realized that
the claims | 297.980425 |
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LETTERS
ON
NATURAL MAGIC,
ADDRESSED TO
SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
BY
SIR DAVID BREWSTER, LL.D., F.R.S.
[Illustration: Three figures on hill-top saluting sunrise]
SEVENTH EDITION.
LONDON:
WILLIAM TEGG AND Co., 85, QUEEN STREET.
CHEAPSIDE.
1856.
CONTENTS.
LETTER I.
Extent and interest of the subject--Science employed by
ancient governments to deceive and enslave their subjects--Influence
of the supernatural upon ignorant minds--Means
employed by the ancient magicians to establish
their authority--Derived from a knowledge of the phenomena
of Nature--From the influence of narcotic drugs
upon the victims of their delusion--From every branch of
science--Acoustics--Hydrostatics--Mechanics--Optics--M.
Salverte’s work on the occult sciences--Object of
the following letters Page 1
LETTER II.
The eye the most important of our organs--Popular description
of it--The eye is the most fertile source of mental
illusions--Disappearance of objects when their images fall
upon the base of the optic nerve--Disappearance of objects
when seen obliquely--Deceptions arising from viewing
| 297.980534 |
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 16. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1840. VOLUME I.
[Illustration: THE CASTLE AND LAKE OF INCHIQUIN, COUNTY OF CLARE.]
Connemara itself, now so celebrated for its lakes and mountains, was not
less unknown a few years since than the greater portion of the county
of Clare. Without roads, or houses of entertainment for travellers, its
magnificent coast and other scenery were necessarily unvisited by the
pleasure tourists, and but little appreciated even by their inhabitants
themselves. But Clare can no longer be said to be an unvisited district:
the recent formation of roads has opened to observation many features of
interest previously inaccessible to the traveller, and its singular coast
scenery--the most sublimely magnificent in the British islands, if not in
Europe--has at least been made known to the public by topographical and
scientific explorers--it has become an attractive locality to artists and
pleasure tourists, and will doubtless be visited by increasing numbers of
such persons in each successive year.
There is however as yet in this county too great a deficiency | 298.184589 |
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American Fairy Tales
By L. FRANK BAUM
Author of
FATHER GOOSE; HIS BOOK,
THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ, ETC.
CONTENTS
THE BOX OF ROBBERS
THE GLASS DOG
THE QUEEN OF QUOK
THE GIRL WHO OWNED A BEAR
THE ENCHANTED TYPES
THE LAUGHING HIPPOPOTAMUS
THE MAGIC BON BONS
THE CAPTURE OF FATHER TIME
THE WONDERFUL PUMP
THE DUMMY THAT LIVED
THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS
THE MANDARIN AND THE BUTTERFLY
THE BOX OF ROBBERS
No one intended to leave Martha alone that afternoon, but it
happened that everyone was called away, for one reason or another.
Mrs. McFarland was attending the weekly card party held by the
Women's Anti-Gambling League. Sister Nell's young man had called
quite unexpectedly to take her for a long drive. Papa was at the
office, as usual. It was Mary Ann's day out | 298.28069 |
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WITH BULLER IN NATAL
[Illustration: " | 298.381749 |
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Produced by David Widger
A TOUR THROUGH THE PYRENEES
By Hippolyte Adolphe Taine
Translated by J. Safford Fiske
With Illustrations by Gustave Dore
New York Henry Holt And Company 1875
[Illustration: 011]
[Illustration: 013]
The Publishers take pleasure in acknowledging their indebtedness to Mr.
Henry Blackburn for valuable hints in the arrangement of this volume.
CONTENTS.
BOOK I.--THE COAST.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.--BORDEAUX.--ROY AN...................3
" II.--LES LANDES.--BAYONNE..............12
" III.--BIARRITZ.--SAINT-JEAN-DE-LUZ.....35
BOOK II.--THE VALLEY OF OSSAU.
CHAPTER I. --DAX.--OR THEZ.....................57
" II.--PAU.............................85
" III.--EAUX-BONNES...................117
" IV.--LANDSCAPES.....................138
" V.--EA UX-CHAUDES...................169
" VI.--THE INHABITANTS.................186
BOOK III.--THE VALLEY OF LUZ.
CHAPTER I.--ON THE WAY TO LUZ.................225
" II.--LUZ..............................250
" III.--SAINT-SAUVEUR.--BAREGES.........266
" IV.--CAUTERE..........................290
" V.--SAINT-SATIN.......................315
" VI.--GAVARNIE.........................326
" VII.--THE BERGONZ.--THE PIC DU MIDI...352
" VIII.--PLANTS AND ANIMALS.............367
BOOK. IV.--BAGNERES AND LUCHON.
CHAPTER I.--FROM LUZ TO BAGNERES-DE-BIGORRE...389
" II.--BAGNERES-DE-BIGORRE..............412
" III.--THE PEOPLE......................420
" IV--THE ROAD TO BAGNERES-DE-LUCHON....468
" V--LUCHON.............................485
" VI.--TOULOUSE.........................509
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE PINES.....................................003
THE RIVER AFTER A STORM.......................005
THE PINES NEAR ROYAN..........................007
THE BROAD RIVER...............................009
BORDEAUX......................................010
TAIL-PIECE....................................011
LES LANDES....................................012
LES LANDES (SECOND VIEW)......................014
TAIL-PIECE....................................016
A STREET IN BAYONNE...........................017
BAYONNE HARBOR................................019
PE DE PUYANE..................................022
THE BURNING CASTLE............................025
HEAD-PIECE....................................035
THE PIERCED ROCK..............................036
TAIL-PIECE....................................039
THE VILLA EUGENIE.............................040
CLIFFS NEAR SAINT-JEAN-DE-LUZ.................042
COAST NEAR SAINT-JEAN-DE-LUZ..................045
TAIL-PIECE....................................046
LOUIS XIV. AND ANNE OF AUSTRIA................047
THE POLITENESS OF TO-DAY......................048
THE POLITENESS OF OTHER DAYS..................049
"JE VOUS LE RENDS."...........................053
A SPLENDID CREATION...........................054
DAX...........................................057
DAX (SECOND VIEW).............................059
CASTLE OF ORTHEZ..............................061
FROISSART.....................................062
A HOME OF LEGENDS.............................063
"TH | 298.585093 |
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Peeps at Many Lands
Norway
By
Lieut.-Col. A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, F.R.G.S., F.Z.S.
With twelve full page illustrations in colour
By
A. Heaton Cooper & Nico Jungman
London
Adam and Charles Black
1911
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. The Land of the Vikings 1
II. Modern Norway 5
III. The People and Their Industries 9
IV. On the Farm 15
V. Manners and Customs 20
VI. School and Play 25
VII. Some Fairy Tales 32
VIII. The Hardanger Fjord 37
IX. A Glimpse of the Fjelds 43
X. Wild Nature--Beasts 48
XI. Wild Nature--Birds 54
XII. Waterfalls, Snowfields, and | 298.585249 |
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AN
ESSAY
ON THE
EFFECTS of OPIUM,
Considered as a POISON.
[Price One Shilling and Sixpence.]
AN ESSAY ON THE EFFECTS of OPIUM.
Considered as
A POISON.
With the most Rational Method of Cure,
deduced from Experience.
Directing likewise the proper Means to be used when
Physical Assistance cannot be readily obtained;
Necessary to be universally known, for the Preservation of Life.
By JOHN AWSITER,
Apothecary to the Royal Hospital at Greenwich.
—— —— Si quid novisti rectius istis,
Candidus imperti—Si non, his utere mecum.
HORAT. Epist. VI. Lib. I.
LONDON:
Printed for G. KEARSLY, in Ludgate-street,
MDCCLXIII.
TO THE
President and Fellows
OF THE
Royal College of Physicians.
Gentlemen,
I Was induced to write this Essay, from a Desire of throwing a Light
upon a Subject, hitherto but triflingly, and, at best, obscurely
treated. As I had no beaten Path to direct me, many perhaps are the
Errors that may be traced through every Page.
I do not boast an Ability to enforce my Sentiments with that energic and
expressive Beauty of Style some are so happy to possess. I am no Author,
and can therefore only rely on your _Candour_, in Behalf of a simple
Recital of such Facts as I have experienced.
When I consider the Novelty of the Subject, and the Rareness of Patients
poisoned with Opium, I am inclined to flatter myself, you will not
discourage, but be rather inclined to cherish under your Wings, every
Effort (however weak) that tends to elucidate so extensive a Branch of
Science, as Physic. I beg the Honour of subscribing myself,
Gentlemen,
Your most obedient,
Humble Servant,
J. AWSITER.
St. _Margaret's Church-Yard, Westminster, January 5, 1762._
PREFATORY DISCOURSE.
Among People who are unacquainted with the Nature of Opium, it is a
received Opinion,——That as it will, when taken in proper Doses, lull
Pain, and procure Rest; so, in large Quantities, that it will terminate
a Life of Cares, by an _easy_ and _quiet_ Death; but it is not so: this
argument is directly contrary to the Nature of our Existence, the animal
Oeconomy being so formed, as not to bear a total Solution, without some
Agonies. Thus, when this Drug is received into the Stomach, in Quality
of a Poison, easy Rest is denied, the Senses, roused by their threatened
Solution, force the animal Powers into immediate Conflict with the
noxious Body, which produces Convulsions, and other dreadful Symptoms,
the Forerunners of Death.——The Drug is besides of so strong a Nature,
that, though taken only into the Stomach, it can change the Colour of
the Skin, and even of the Linen wore next it; a Body also, many Hours
after Death, will smell so strongly of it, as to determine whether it
was the Instrument of Destruction used.
I might have encreased the Bulk of this Essay, by expatiating on the
Effects of Opium upon the arterial Fluid; I could inform you, that the
Power of it is diffused by the Stimulus of the recurrent Nerves, to
their Origin in the Cerebellum, whence, by Consent of Parts, the whole
System partakes of the Affect, and the contaminated Fluid is propelled
by them, through the Heart into the Arteries, and communicated to the
most distant Parts of the Body; also that the Skin is formed by very
minute Fibres of the Nerves, interwoven with arterial Fibres and Veins,
forming numerous Compages of secerning Vessels, &c. &c. but these are
Subjects best suiting the medicinal Powers of Opium, which being
derogatory from my Design, are purposely avoided, and, but that these
Pages are for the Perusal of more than the Circle of Physical Gentlemen,
the Cases alone would have been inserted, without even giving the
natural History of the Drug; for this same Reason, the Prescriptions are
set down in _English_, and the whole Essay disrobed of technical
Expressions, as far as the Subject will allow.
It will be thought, perhaps, that I have made too free with Dr. _Jones_,
who is the only _English_ Author that has wrote professedly on this
Subject; but many of his Sentiments being directly opposite to mine, I
was under a Necessity of bringing them into an immediate Point of View.
It is therefore hoped, no Person will be so unfriendly, as to impute to
me a Malevolence of Disposition, which is a Character I would always
diligently avoid.
THE
EFFECTS
OF
OPIUM,
Considered as a POISON, &c.
Opium is a Drug brought to us from the Eastern Countries (the Use of it
was first known to the _Greeks_ who gave it the Name of Ὀπὸς, _Succus_,
which was collected from the _Papaver Hortense_, _Semine Albo_ of
_Caspar Bauhine_) where the Plant, from which it is produced, grows in
great Plenty, both wild and cultivated, and is the same with that of the
white Poppy in _England_, the Heads of which are very large, and possess
a sleeping Power, many Degrees beyond any other Part of it; the Seeds
contained in these Heads are very numerous, and partake of this Quality
in so small a Proportion, as to be scarce discernible, and rather help,
from the soft Oil they contain, to correct the bad Effects of the acrid
Juice of the Mother-Plant; they are therefore separated from the Heads,
and used in Emulsions, being esteemed both cooling and emollient.
Distinctions were formerly made of the Goodness of this Drug, according
to the Places where it was gathered; that of _Thebes_ being the most
famous; but, as it is now, and has been for some Time past, an Article
of general Traffic, not only in the Places where it grows, but
throughout all _Europe_, those Distinctions of Country, are necessarily
laid aside, and the only Difference now consists in its Purity, or
Adulteration by the original Manufacturers or Venders.
It is a natural Supposition, and indeed the _Turkish_ Histories
sufficiently demonstrate, that the original Use of Opium, or Extract
from the Poppy, was first introduced to dissipate Anxieties, Pains, and
Perturbations of the Mind, which appears not unlike the Use of
intoxicating Drinks, so much requested in _Europe_. Labours of Mind and
Body in every Person's Life, being somewhat considerable, a temporary
Relief becomes indispensably necessary; and though Opium is not in
common Use in _England_, such similar Advantages we instance of Tobacco,
with which alone the Soldier can perform his March, and the Sailor his
Service, through the rudest Storm, in a Night-watch upon Deck.
In _Europe_, we are not only fond of intoxicating Liquors, but add to
their sleeping Qualities by the Use of Tobacco; Smoaking and
Snuff-taking are fashionable, and Chewing not uncommon; all which
Methods have, until familiarized to the Party, very disagreeable
Effects, the Plant containing a corrosive Oil or Sulphur, with a
volatile Salt, which makes it partake the Quality of Opium, though in a
distant Degree; the _Chinese_, indeed, exceed us, they having a Narcotic
Weed, which they smoak, a Species of the Poppy.
To treat upon the Effects of Opium, and the various Shapes wherein it
may be advantageously used for many Diseases, would frustrate my present
Design; therefore I shall confine myself to that Property, which makes
it considered as a Poison; and by the Analysis of the various Powers it
contains, destroy, or in a great Measure prevent, the fatal Consequences
which often attend the immoderate and imprudent Use of this Drug.
The great Doctor _Mead_, in his Tract upon Poisons, gives an Example of
such a Power being in Opium, by pouring it, dissolved in warm Water,
into a Dog. Had that able Genius, adequate to the Task, pursued his
Experiments with that Spirit wherewith he abounded, it would have yet
added to the Obligation the World owes him; but over the Means necessary
to be used to counteract this Poison, and the Effects of it upon _human_
Bodies, he has drawn a Veil, and informs us, that the Cure is to be
compleated by acid Medicines, and lixivial Salts: Far be it from me to
comment upon the Principles of this Doctrine; he was too just not to be
sensible of what he wrote; perhaps he thought the Subject of too
delicate a Nature to be made common, and as many People might then
indiscriminately use it, it would take from that necessary Fear and
Caution, which should prevent their experiencing the extensive Power of
this Drug; for there are many Properties in it, if universally known,
that would habituate the Use, and make it more in Request with us than
the _Turks_ themselves, the Result of which Knowledge must prove a
general Misfortune.
From the Ease it affords to the Pains of Mind and Body, Opium obtained
the Name of _Laudanum_, derived from the _Latin Laudabilis_, or
_Laudatum_; yet, though it has this Property of easing Anxieties and
Torments of the most excruciating Diseases, the constant Use of it
should be rejected, as it will impair the Memory, destroy the Appetite,
bring on a Stupor, and by Relaxation, weaken the whole Frame. That it
impairs the Nerves, is manifest, for applied to the Ear, to ease Pain,
it may cause Deafness; to the Nostrils, to stop an Hæmorrhage, Loss of
Smelling; and however applied, whether internally or externally, (unless
very sparingly) it will benumb the Part most immediately in Contact with
it. When we consider the nervous Coats of the Stomach, and the Action of
Opium upon them by constant Use, the Effects may easily be judged; and
if a Person so habituated, is prudent enough to throw aside the Use of
it, before he is betrayed into some fatal Disease, the Appetite is to be
restored by nervous Stimulants, Bracers, and Cold-bathing. Doctor
_Jones_ advises gradual Decrease of the Opiate, and to use, instead of
it, generous Wine in Moderation.
The Production of Opium is from the Fruits or Seed-vessels of the
Poppy-Plants, commonly called the Heads; they are gathered while green,
which (the Seeds being taken out) are bruised and pressed. The Juice
thus collected from them is dried to a Substance, which being wrapped in
Leaves, is formed into Balls or Lumps, generally under a Pound Weight,
and in that Form transported to all the Markets of _Europe_.
Though it is a received Opinion, that Opium, with us, and other
Countries where not manufactured, has not near the Strength of that used
by the People where it grows; yet in _Turkey_ they can venture to take
it in larger Quantities; and hence it is manifest, that the Effects
would be more pernicious amongst them, if they did not use it in a most
pure State; and though Habit might conduce to the Constitution bearing
it in much larger Doses, than we in _England_ dare give it, yet
certainly the constant Use of it, unless when of a most fine Texture of
Parts, must sooner prove hurtful, than the immoderate and constant
Drinking of Wines, and Spirits; and by this Means, the Lives of the
major Part of the Eastern Countries, where it is so much requested,
would drop in the Flower of their Youth, and whole Nations, in the Space
of a Century, be depopulated.
The ancient Accounts of the Manner of gathering Opium, was, according to
_Diascorides_, by the milky Juice being collected from Time to Time,
that distilled from the wounded Head of the Poppy; thus gathered, it is
entirely pure, and being taken, gives no disagreeable Sensation to the
Stomach. This Extract being almost wholly volatile, immediately enters
into Action, and discharges itself by Perspiration, opening the Pores,
and refreshing the Spirits, without any attendant Injury; and daily
Experience will convince every one who will put it to the Tryal, that
the purer the Opium, in the greater Quantity it may be taken, unattended
with the Nausea, Vertigo, and Tremor, which are so often the
Consequences of it with us, though used in small Doses. _Tournefort_,
Page 292, _Materiæ Medicæ_, informs us, that Opium, or Laudanum, does
not only pass off freely by Perspiration, but cures those Distempers
arising from Obstructions of the Organs of Respiration in hot Countries,
without any Inconvenience whatever, which cannot be said of it, in such
Cases, in _England_, though assisted with volatile and cordial
Medicines. This seems a palpable Contradiction to the Opinion of Doctor
_Jones_, who says, that Opium may be taken in much larger Doses, in
Cold, than in hot Climates.
It is a natural Supposition, that when a Country produces a Commodity,
in a Manner peculiar to herself, the Manufacturers will embrace the most
ready Means of collecting it. The first Consideration generally is, how
to make the greatest Emolument with the least Labour; if the Opium,
which is brought into _Europe_, were to be taken from the Head of each
Poppy, by Incision, as is supposed by some Authors, the Produce would
not be sufficient to supply the Markets; for as the daily Collection of
Opium, from one Head, could not exceed one Grain in Weight, and many
might fail even of that the Labour, Time, and Hands requisite to gather
one Pound only, must necessarily make that Article, five, if not ten
Times the Price it now bears. Though it is not improbable, that Opium,
being a pure body, and wholly volatile, _may_ be gathered by Incision,
Yet it is not natural to suppose, that the Quantity of Opium, so nicely
produced can answer, in any moderate Proportion, what may be made by
gathering the Heads, while green, grinding them, and expressing the
Juice, which may be easily inspissated. _Vide Plin. Secund._ Lib. 20.
Cap. 18.
Some Authors apprehend, that common Opium is not made alone from the
Head, but from the impressed Juice of the whole Plant; and indurated by
the Sun's Heat, _See Mathiolus, Scaliger, &c._ But, if the Authority of
_Pliny_ is not thought sufficient, _Geoffroy_ further refutes this
Opinion; clearly proving, by extracting the Juice of the Leaves and Stem
of the Poppy-Plant, that on the most strict Analysis, it is many Degrees
inferior in Strength to the Properties of common Opium. This is also
confirmed by the Examination of the Fæces, or impure Parts, remaining
from the Solution of our Opium, they having no Similitude to the woody
Fibres belonging to the Plant, which might pass with the Juice, by the
Force of the Press, but to the light spongy Particles from the Apex or
Head, with some little Grit.
We have several Instances of the fæculent Parts of inspissated Vegetable
Juices increasing the Violence of their Operation; such are the Aloes of
the Shops, Scammony, and grosser Juice of the wild Cucumber, called
Elaterium. The _Fæculæ_ of Opium, in the State wherein we receive it,
will clog the more fine Parts, and prevent their ready Passage through
the Pores of the Skin; and as the Time of its Duration in the Body, by
such Means, is greatly increased, the Effects must necessarily remain
longer, and the deleterious Quality have more Power over the human
System. _Wedelius_ says, _id certissimum habemus nunquam ab Opio ulla
timenda esse incommoda si bene sit depuratum_. Lib. 1. Sect. 2. Cap. 3.
There are several Plants which have a sleeping Property, though not in
so great a Degree as the inspissated Juice of the Poppy, yet more
poisonous, because they are not endued with that volatile Power to carry
themselves off. Thus we find the Juice of Hemlock, Mandrake, Nightshade,
and several others of this Class, loaded with an acrid Salt, which, when
inwardly taken, will corrode, vellicate, and cause an immediate
Inflammation in the Primæ Viæ, to which the Nerves consent by a general
Convulsion; and if any of these venene Powers remain long enough in the
Body, to insinuate themselves into the Circulation, the debilitated
Blood will become stagnant in, or lacerate, the capillary Vessels.
Examples of these have been seen in _Indians_, who have taken Poison,
which, though not of immediate Power to destroy Life, has manifested
itself in Ulcers over the whole Body; and what is related of the Poison
of the Seps Hæmorrhous, or Hæmorrhoid Serpent, is very extraordinary,
that it will make the Blood flow out from several Parts of the Body;
which can only be accounted for by an extream Fluidity of the Blood, and
a consequent Velocity in Circulation, increased to such a Degree, as to
lacerate the capillary Vessels, and thereby force them to part with
their Contents.
From the various and violent Effects I have observed to arise from the
Use of different Parcels of Opium, I am inclined to think, that the
Juice of some Narcotic Plant is frequently added to that of the Poppy,
in order to increase the Quantity of the Drug; and _Bellonius_ observes,
that Traders in Opium have so far adulterated it, that four Ounces of
the pure Drug have sometimes been multiplied to a Pound. I myself have
observed, in the Use of two different Opiums upon one Subject, that the
one had a mild and proper Effect, and the other, through its
Churlishness of Operation in the first Passages and Symptoms, on the
following Day, had the Appearance of Poison, though in an inferior
Degree. Such may always be suspected of Adulteration with the acrid
Juice of some other Plant, and when a Purging ensues the taking of
Opium, it most probably arises from a Mixture with the milky Juice of
_Spurge_; there being nothing in the Principles or Effects of the pure
Drug, to excite Purgation. This I apprehend to be the Reason why solid
Opium sometimes purges, and the Tincture very seldom, the Menstruum
used, dissolving only the finer Powers.
To judge of pure Opium in the Lump, is a great Nicety, and what the
Buyer ought to be very careful of, that it may answer his Intention of
easing, and not injuring his Patient, if he designs using it inwardly;
for this Intent, some Authors have given Instructions; but how few are
they, who are assiduous to know the different Degrees of Strength each
different Lump may contain! It is thought enough, if it has the
Appearance of Opium, and the stronger it is in Smell and Taste (provided
it is not drossy) they think it will go furthest, and consequently is
best.
This Drug is to be chosen by Colour, Smell and Taste; the best Sort is
of a Reddish-Brown; that which is deepened to Blackness, being fit only
for external Use, as we may expect it to be mixed with some other
narcotic Extract. To the Smell it should be pungent, almost to
Volatility, without Fœtidness. When it proves very powerfully
acrimonious to the Tongue (which the Opium we use, too often does) the
inward Use of it should be rejected. The Right Sort is very bitter, and
as such will be pungent to the Tongue, but will not leave a Soreness
behind, in the Manner of corrosive Bodies; it should not be chosen
heavy, lest it should be mixt with Sand, to increase the Weight; nor
very dry, as some of its finer Powers might be then lost; and when cut
in thin Slices, it may, by holding it to the Light, be easily
discovered, if drossy.
Burning it, in order to try the Purity, is recommended by some Authors;
the best, emitting a clear Flame; to which let me add, that being a
resinous Body, it may, if pure, be moulded by Heat into any Form, and
answers the Characteristic observed of it by _Pliny_, Lib. 20. Cap. 18.
_Sed maxime mirum, Æstivo sole deprehendi. Syncerum enim sudat, & se
diluit, donec succo recenti simile fiat._
All authors agree, that Opium is very volatile, which Volatility must be
the Cause of its immediate action on the Stomach; this is likewise
manifest, by the following simple Experiment:
"Take a Portion of Opium, either sliced or grated, place it before the
Fire, near enough to dry without scorching; after remaining some time,
you will find the Strength of it considerably abated."
This Process was directed by the Ancients, to deprive it of its supposed
poisonous Quality, but that is left behind in the grosser Body. The
effects of it, thus managed, would not be so sudden, though used in
large Doses, yet would prove, for Reasons given in a former Page, more
severe and permanent; by this Means, the fixt Salts and Fæculæ remain,
and the volatile Spirit, which occasions the soft refreshing Sleep, is
in a great Measure, evaporated.
Unless Opium were a resinous Body, it could not retain its volatile
Power, to bear transporting in the Form it does, much less endure to be
kept in the Shops with little Loss. The burning of it proves the Truth
of this Assertion, and if it were a mucous Gum, or viscous juice, it
would not flow by Heat, nor import its Strength to a spirituous, but to
an aqueous Menstruum, after the Manner of Gum Arabic. It may be asked
here, in Opposition to this, how the Extract from Opium is made, in
which Process the Opium, according to the College, is ordered to be
dissolved in Water? In Answer to it, I presume, the Water is only an
Agent, that prevents the Adustion of the Parts so exposed to intense
Heat, which Menstruum, being partly imbibed by the Impurities of the
Drug, causes a sufficient Separation, for the resinous Parts to become
soft enough to be pressed through a Bolter; by such Management, the
fæcæs are entirely separated from the purer Parts, and the Water, though
used most cautiously, and in as sparing a Quantity as possible, by the
necessary Evaporation, in order to reduce the pure Body to the former
Substance, loses more than it gains; and after all, in my Opinion, is
not so much to be depended upon, or has so mild an Effect as good Opium;
notwithstanding Doctor _Jones_'s Opinion to the to the contrary, and his
partial Fondness, in giving the Name _Panacea_ to his Solution in Water.
The College of Physicians have ordered only two Preparations that retain
the Name of Opium, wisely considering, that those of the Ancients were
so numerous, and so variously combined with other Substances, under the
Title of Correctors, that the Bulk in administering them was greatly
encreased, and an Inconvenience arose oftentimes to the Patient, who not
being able to take the Quantity of the Opiate required, thereby rendered
the Effect frequently precarious.
One Preparation, directed by them, is by Solution, as mentioned above,
merely to purify it from heterogeneous Particles, and thence called
_Extractum Thebaicum_, or Extract of Opium; the other a Tincture or
Re-Solution of that Extract, to be preserved in a fluid State with Wine,
in the Proportion of two Ounces to one Pound, with an Addition of
Aromatics. This last Preparation, which is in more general Use than the
Extract, is commonly known by the Name of _Laudanum_; though that
Epithet was formerly used by Authors for various Preparations of the
Drug, with the Appendage of Opiatum, Tartarizatum, _&c._ to characterise
their Differences.
I shall not enlarge upon Opium in a physical Sense, further than is
necessary to shew the poisonous Effects of it in over-large Doses, and
as such, I confine myself to the Sort within every one's Knowledge, and
to be commonly met with in the Shops.
The poisonous Effects of Opium, whether in a solid or fluid State, may
be considered in the same Light, as Ebriety from spirituous Liquors; a
very small Quantity will overcome a weak Constitution, while a strong
one will require much more; nevertheless, a weak Constitution, used to
Opium, will bear as much, uninjured, as the strongest, if unaccustomed
to the Use of it. In a general Sense, however, even in the most robust,
a Dose, exceeding three Grains, may be truly pronounced to be of
dangerous and poisonous Consequence; and in some Cases, half that
Quantity will prove sufficient. It operates sooner in a liquid, than in
a solid Form; in the former, admitting the Doses are too large, in half
an Hour, and often in fifteen, or ten Minutes, unless Exercise
intervenes; In the latter, in two Hours, sometimes in one, sometimes in
half an Hour; the Injury produced by the Liquid, being more sudden and
transient, that of the Solid, more slow and lasting.
The Liquid, by a speedy Expansion, is frequently, and almost instantly,
rejected by the Stomach, the other not; by which it is easily
discoverable, that though the Effects of Opium, in a liquid State, are
more immediate, they are sooner counteracted, and more easily overcome;
for which Reason, every Vender of Medicines ought to be extreamly
cautious to whom he sells this Drug, that it may not be converted to a
wrong Use. However it is seldom known that a Person attempts to poison
himself with solid Opium, though frequently with the Tincture.
The general Effects of Opium, are as follow, _viz._ Upon almost
immediate taking, the first Symptoms are a Heat and Weight at the
Stomach, succeeded by an Extravagance of Spirits, even to violent
Laughter, Listlesness of the Limbs, Giddiness, Head-ache, Loss of
Memory, dead Look of the Eyes, imperfect Speech, Drowsiness, slow and
full Pulse, short and quick Breathing, Nauseas, and an extream florid
Complexion. These Symptoms are the common Consequences of Drunkenness,
as well as Opium, though not all at the same Time in one and the same
Object, the Symptoms varying according to the Strength of the
Constitution. The more violent and extream Effects are Itchings of the
Skin, Madness, Vertigoes, Vomitings, Hickups, heavy and dead Sleeps,
unequal Pulse, Contraction of the Jaw, Convulsions, profuse Sweats,
universal Relaxation, Faintings, Coldness of the extreme Parts; and
lastly, a cold Breath, a certain Indication of Death.
Before we treat of the Cure of these too violent and, too frequently,
fatal Effects, it will be requisite to explain the Cause of this
Poison's Power in the Primæ Viæ, or Stomach. First then, let us consider
the component Parts, which, when examined by a chemical Analysis, are
found to contain a very large Portion of volatile Salt and Spirit; a
fœtid; corrosive, and sulphureous Oil; some little of a fixed Salt; and
a small Quantity of indolent Earth. Vide _Lemery_, _Mead_, _Geoffroy_,
&c.
The Principle of Action Consists of a volatile alkaline Salt, intimately
united to, and enveloped in, a corrosive sulphureous Oyl.
The Sensations of the Stomach are most evidently exquisite, by Hunger
and Thirst; with which those other Senses of Smelling and Tasting are in
immediate Contact and Agency, which the wise Ordination of a supream
Hand, for the Preservation of Life, has proportionally distributed
through every Part of the Creation, from Man down to the most small and
apparently insignificant Insect.
By the nice Sense of the Palate, we are able to judge in general, what
is, and what is not essential to the Nutriment of the Body; which
Nutriment the Stomach, for the most Part, rejects when noxious. Some
Things, indeed, are almost void of Smell or Taste, therefore not
seemingly injurious to the external Senses, and thus may be accidentally
taken into the Stomach; or when those Senses are depraved; as Hemlock
has been often mistaken, and eat for Pars | 299.576547 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.6704860 | 3,026 | 17 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
POEMS
BY
JOHN CLARE
PUBLISHER’S NOTICE.
The Publisher desires to express his regret that, owing to an oversight,
the proofs of the Introduction were not submitted to the Editor, who is
in no way responsible for the following
ERRATA (corrected in this etext)
Page xvii., line 6, for “been” read “being”; page xxii., first line, for
“Reynerdson” read “Reynardson”; page xxiv., for “tête-á-tête” read
“tête-à-tête”; page xxviii., 2nd line, for “compliments.” read
“compliments,”; page xxx., line 11, for “Dick Suivelles” read “Dick
Swiveller”; page xxxi., in the last line but two, for “to” read “of”;
page xxxix., in line 6 of second paragraph for “widey” read “widely.”
POEMS _by_ JOHN CLARE
SELECTED AND INTRODUCED BY
NORMAN GALE (AUTHOR OF “A
COUNTRY MUSE,” &C. &C.) WITH A
BIBLIOGRAPHY BY C. ERNEST SMITH
RUGBY: GEORGE E. OVER, 1901
Printed at The Rugby Press
CONTENTS
Page
A Spring Morning 138
A World for Love 120
Address to Plenty 3
Approach of Spring, The 76
Autumn 99
Autumn Robin, The 132
Ballad 42
Crab Tree, The 139
Decay 125
December 70
Effusion 39
Gipsy Camp, The 45
Graves of Infants 144
Harvest Morning, The 18
Home Yearnings 145
I am! Yet what I am 157
June 65
Love 123
Love Lives beyond the Tomb 147
Meeting, The 37
Milton, To John 154
My Early Home 149
My Love, thou art a Nosegay Sweet 36
Nightingale’s Nest, The 114
Noon 14
Pastoral Fancies 129
Patty 32
Patty of the Vale 34
Old Poesy 141
On an Infant’s Grave 22
Rural Evening 55
Rustic Fishing 61
Song 44
Song 122
Summer Evening 25
Summer Images 89
Tell-Tale Flowers, The 150
Thoughts in a Churchyard 112
’Tis Spring, my Love, ’Tis Spring 142
To an April Daisy 23
To P * * * * 118
To the Clouds 47
To the Rural Muse 82
Universal Epitaph, The 17
Vanities of Life, The 105
What is Life? 1
Winter 140
Woodman, The 48
BIOGRAPHY AND COMMENT
In tracing the origin of JOHN CLARE it is not necessary to go very far
back, reference to his grandfather and grandmother being a sufficient
acknowledgement of the claims of genealogy. Following the road at
haphazard, trusting himself entirely to the guidance of fortune, and
relying for provender upon his skill in drawing from a violin tunes of
the battle and the dance, about thirty years before Helpstone heard the
first wail of its infant poet, there arrived at the village the vagabond
and truculent Parker. Born under a wandering star, this man had footed
it through many a country of Europe, careless whether daily necessity
required from him an act of bloodshed or the scraping of a harum-scarum
reel designed to set frolic in the toes of man and maid. At the time of
his reaching Helpstone, a Northamptonshire village, destined to come
into prominence because of the lyrics of its chief son, it happened that
the children were without a schoolmaster. In his time the adventurer
had played many parts. Why should he not add to the list? Effrontery,
backed up by an uncertain amount of superficial attainment, won the day,
and this fiddling Odysseus obtained the vacant position. Of his
boastings, his bowings, his drinkings, there is no need to make history,
but his soft tongue demands a moment of attention. We may take it for
granted that he picked out the fairest flower among the maids of
Helpstone as the target for all the darts at his disposal, each of
which, we may be sure, was polished by use. The daughter of the parish
clerk was a fortress easy to capture. Depicted by himself, the rascal
loomed as a hero; till at last the affair proceeded beyond a mere kiss,
and the poor girl pleaded for the offices of a priest in order to save
her child from the stain of illegitimacy. However, the schoolmaster
proved glib of promises, but fleet of foot, for on the day following his
sweetheart’s revelations he was nowhere to be found. In the course of
time JOHN CLARE’S father was born. In his turn, he grew into the want of
a mate, found her, married her, and begot an honour for England.
JOHN CLARE was born at Helpstone, on the 13th day of July, 1793, and
born into a heritage of handicaps. To say nothing of the fruits of
exposure to rough weathers which were ripening in his father’s system,
the boy had the disadvantage of being one of twins, a sister
accompanying him into the world. His mother suffered from dropsy, and we
may well believe that what life the children sucked from her breast
contained elements threatening their future health. Small and frail, the
lad had the additional misfortune to open his eyes in the cottage of a
pauper, instead of in some abode where his natural weakness could have
been nourished by foods giving inward encouragement, and of a sort sure
to result in the building up of hearty fibre. Despite all these early
rebuffs, JOHN CLARE kept hold of life. When still very young he set out
full of faith to explore the junction of earth and heaven, for on the
horizon he could see the point of their meeting. In this incident, as
well as in many another of his childhood, it is easy to detect signs of
a spirit triumphantly unfitted for residence in a clay hovel at
Helpstone. As luck would have it, a kind of rough-and-ready poetry was
not altogether out of the boy’s reach, for his father’s head was stuffed
with innumerable odds-and-ends of rhyme, some of which he was in the
habit of reciting to his son. Entertainment of the same sort was
obtainable from old Granny Bains, a weather-worn cow-herd, to whom the
future poet was attracted by her store of ditties; whose especial
cronies were the wind and rain. Under such illiterate tutors little JOHN
CLARE moved closer and closer to the soul of poetry, musing while he put
a limit to the vagrancy of the geese and sheep for which he had been
appointed guardian as soon as the main part of his schooling was over.
His departure from the scholastic bench took place when his years had
reached a very unripe total, for with only seven birthdays entered in
his book of life, at an age when a child is usually at the commencement
of historical and geographical perplexities, he was turned out into the
fields as a wage-earner. Instead of feeling elated at his escape from
the scholastic coils of Dame Bullimore, as many a lad would have done,
JOHN CLARE, being aware of his budding wits, although unable to
comprehend the motive force from within, looked round his small district
in search of fresh educational territories to be conquered by his brain.
Having saved a few pence he made overtures to Mr. James Merrishaw, the
schoolmaster of Glinton, and in the duller months of the year, when days
were short, he attended certain evening classes, notwithstanding the
fact that the journeys involved taxed his boot-leather severely; for
Glinton is nearly five miles away from Helpstone. Here he learned well,
but not altogether wisely, if we may agree that the boy’s struggles with
the intricacies of algebra were conspicuous for mis-applied energy. But
something more valuable than baffling equations resulted from JOHN
CLARE’S connection with the sage of Glinton, for Mr. Merrishaw made him
free of his books, thus feeding more and more that desire for knowledge
which sprang up in him not less rapidly than a mushroom grows in a
meadow.
Even in such a loose piece of biography as this--an essay which has no
other aim than to glance in passing at the salient features of CLARE’S
career--a little space must be spared for mention of the boy’s year of
service as factotum at the “Blue Bell” at Helpstone, where he had almost
as much leisure as work, because it was here that his hermitical notions
and moods of dream increased at an extraordinary rate. Served by
travelling pedlars, whose packs let him share in fancy the terror of Red
Riding Hood, the adventures of Valentine and Orson, to say no word of
Sinbad’s amazements, the small student entered for the first time into
the recesses of fairy land, there to lave his hands in its abundant
jewels, while making extortionate demands upon the swiftness of genies.
Little by little, algebra went to the wall, yielding as much to the
boy’s spreading passion for Nature’s feast of grass and flowers, as for
the limitless enchantments born of imagination, since at this period the
list of impulses communicated to him by wayside blossoms, by clouds, by
winds, and by the easy ballads of thrushes, daily grew longer. The boy
began to appreciate the largeness of God’s school as compared with the
limits reigned over by Dame Bullimore and the pedagogue of Glinton; and
his increasing sense of hearing enabled him to receive into his
understanding fragments of those sermons which are preached by stones.
Hunger for expansion lived and lusted in his heart. No better example of
this fury of craving could be adduced than the story of how the young
poet entered into a combat with circumstances in order that he might
obtain a copy of Thomson’s “Seasons.” Mental agony, as well as a
superlative degree of hoarding, went to the purchase of that coveted
volume, the history of which is fully set forth in Mr. Frederick
Martin’s stimulating “Life of John Clare.” During these glowing months
the boy of genius had not ceased from utilising every chance scrap of
paper for the purpose of jotting down his exercises in rhyme. By means
of a forgivable trick he secured the verbal patronage of his father and
mother, who could not see any merit in his verses till he pretended
that they were the compositions of others. As poem after poem was
written their author stored them in a cranny in the wall, a retreat at
last invaded by Mrs. Clare, with the result that she was wont to help
the boiling of the kettle by burning underneath it the early pipings of
her son.
At this point, the youth in whose story the interest lies being sixteen
years old, Cupid, with no loss of his bright qualities after so many
centuries of exercise, comes into the recital. To JOHN CLARE, who was
moving rapidly towards the full worship of all things lovely, Mary Joyce
appeared to be nobody less bewildering and enchanting than a stray from
heaven; and though he was prevented from wearing her, the dice of
Fortune falling adverse from the box, he never ceased to regard her as
his ideal. Of the many pathetic incidents of his life not the least
touching is the fact that in his years of a broken brain he cherished as
a chief delusion the belief that Mary Joyce was indeed his wife. What
the feelings of a nature so intense were when the father of his
sweetheart intervened as the proverbial slip between the cup and the
lip, we can only conjecture, though the tracing of results is easy
enough. After leaving the tankards and the horses of the “Blue Bell,”
JOHN CLARE cast about him for some other form of employment. Escaping
the pains of stone-cutting and cobbling, he succeeded in becoming a
gardener’s apprentice at Burghley Park, the seat of the Marquis of
Exeter. Parker Clare began to think that his son was born with an
invisible silver spoon in his mouth, while to JOHN eight shillings a
week, with lodging free, smacked of the robbers’ cave in the “Arabian
Nights.” In reality, this position was altogether undesirable, for the
head gardener, not content to degrade himself alone by an excessive
swallowing of stimulants, actually devoted his best efforts to make
drunkards of his pupils. Unfortunately temptation loomed large at the
very moment when CLARE was ripe for mischief. Romance was worsted by
swipes (the indignity of the episode may be held to excuse the slang);
by means of such thin nepenthe, regret for the loss of Mary Joyce grew
less and less; and it not infrequently occurred that | 299.690526 |
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Produced by eagkw, Chris Curnow 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 detailed transcriber's note can be found at the end of this book.
[Illustration]
A. D. 2000
BY
LIEUT. ALVARADO M. FULLER
U. S. A.
CHICAGO
LAIRD & LEE PUBLISHERS
1890
Entered according to act of Congress in the year eighteen hundred
and ninety, by LAIRD & LEE, in the office of the librarian of
Congress at Washington.
(All rights reserved.)
PREFACE
Lest originality of title and theme be denied, it is but justice to
myself to state that both were assumed in November, 1887. My thanks are
due to Lieutenant D. L. Brainard, Second Cavalry, for the true copy of
the record of the Greely party left in the cairn at the farthest point
on the globe ever reached by man--83 degrees 24 minutes North Latitude,
40 degrees 46 minutes West Longitude.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
JUNIUS COBB'S MARVELOUS DISCOVERY 9
CHAPTER II
A STARTLING PROPOSITION 31
CHAPTER III
PREPARING FOR THE TEST 45
CHAPTER IV
JEAN COLCHIS, CONSPIRATOR AND SAVANT 61
CHAPTER V
ON THE EVE OF A CENTURY'S SLEEP 80
CHAPTER VI
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 101
CHAPTER VII
"YOU SAY THIS IS A. D. 2000?" 108
CHAPTER VIII
SAN FRANCISCO IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 130
CHAPTER IX
THE CENTRAL PNEUMATIC RAILROAD 150
CHAPTER X
UNDER THE CENTRAL SEA 168
CHAPTER XI
THE ARMY OF INSTRUCTION 199
CHAPTER XII
JUNIUS COBB READS A NEWSPAPER 235
CHAPTER XIII
NEW YORK CITY--POPULATION 4,000,000 245
CHAPTER XIV
THE LAW OF THE LAND 261
CHAPTER XV
THE SYMPATHETIC TELEGRAPH 278
CHAPTER XVI
CHICAGO THE METROPOLIS OF THE COUNTRY 299
CHAPTER XVII
NIAGARA FALLS HARNESSED 309
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MYSTERY OF THE COPPER CYLINDER 315
CHAPTER XIX
RESURRECTED 332
CHAPTER XX
AN AERIAL VOYAGE 347
CHAPTER XXI
THE TRANSATLANTIC LIFE-SAVING STATIONS 363
CHAPTER XXII
LOCATING THE NORTH POLE 380
CHAPTER XXIII
UNITED AT LAST 396
CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION 404
A. D. 2000
CHAPTER I
"Number three! half-past eleven o'clock--and all's well!"
"All is well!" came the response from the sentry at the guard-house,
while the sharp click of his piece as he brought it to his shoulder and
the heavy tread of his retreating footsteps were all that was heard to
break the stillness that reigned supreme throughout the garrison.
It was a dark, dreary, foggy night. The heavy atmosphere seemed laden
with great masses of fleeting vapor, and the walks of the post and the
ground surrounding them were as wet as if a heavy shower had just spent
its force.
Such was the Presidio of San Francisco, California, a military post of
the United States government, on the night of November 17th, 1887. The
lights of the garrison made little effect upon that thick and saturated
atmosphere; yet the little that they did make only seemed to add more
to the depth of the surrounding gloom.
In the officers' club-room, near the main parade, was gathered a
jolly party of old and young officers. The rooms were handsomely,
even superbly, furnished. The billiard-tables were in full blast; the
card-tables were occupied; while many sat and chatted upon the various
military topics which are ever a part of the soldier's life.
In a set of officers' quarters, some distance away from the main
parade, were assembled three subalterns of the line. The room was
bright and cheerful, and the decanters upon the table showed that they
knew of the good cheer of the world. The furniture upon which the
officers sat and reclined, as also about the room, gave evidence of
refinement and education; while the cases stacked with books, near the
entrance, bespoke a tendency and desire on the part of the occupant of
the quarters for the improvement of his mind. A grate fire in the angle
threw its cheerful rays upon those present, while the luxuriousness and
warmth of the whole room was in direct contrast with the gloominess and
cold without.
Opening from the main room through a curtained door was a second room,
the inside of which was a study. There was no carpet upon the floor,
and the boards gave evidence of having been used by many feet. Tables
containing jars and many curious vessels, wires in every direction,
bottles filled and empty, maps and drawings, and instruments of
peculiar form and shape, were seen about the room.
In one corner was a large Holtz machine, whose great disc of glass
reflected back the rays from the lights in the front room.
The three men were soldiers and officers of the army.
In the center of the room, by a small table upon which was a roll of
paper, with one hand holding down the pages, while the other was raised
in a commanding gesture, stood Junius Cobb, a lieutenant in the cavalry
arm of the service. Sitting in an easy-chair near the fire, with his
legs on the fender and his eyes watching every movement of the speaker,
reclined Lester Hathaway; while midway between the table and the right
side of the room, in a large rocker, sat Hugh Craft.
Lester Hathaway was a graduate of the military academy of the United
States, as was also Hugh Craft; both were lieutenants in the army--the
former in the infantry, and the latter in the artillery branch of the
service.
Lester Hathaway was about twenty-eight years of age, tall and slim,
fair-haired, a pleasing face, languid air, and a blase style. To him
the world was one grand sphere for enjoyment; it was his life, his
almost every thought, as to how he could pass his time in an easy and
amusing manner. Balls, parties, and dances were his special vocations.
With him there was no thought of the true hardships of life.
Young and handsome, courted by the ladies, he could not understand how
it was that others should occupy their minds with subjects of research
and study.
Hugh Craft was of a different type; yet, like Hathaway, he was tall
and thin, and about the same age; but here the likeness terminated. He
was darker than his companion, with sharp features, an aquiline nose,
and a chin denoting great firmness. His eye was piercing, and wandered
from one object to another with the rapidity of lightning. He was much
more of a student than Hathaway, delighting in all that portion of
the sciences touching the marvelous; a good listener to the views of
others. Altogether, Hugh Craft was a man worthy to be the partner of a
scientific man in a great enterprise.
Junius Cobb, the central figure in the room, deserves more than a
passing description. He was a man about thirty-three years of age, of
medium height, but of a full and well-developed form, black eyes, a
pleasing countenance, a dark mustache nearly covering his lips, square
chin, and eyebrows meeting in the center of the face--all tokens
of a great firmness and decision. He was one who had given many of
his days and nights to hard study in science, in political economy,
and, in fact, had taken a deep interest in almost all of the various
progressive undertakings of his day.
Outside of his duties, Junius Cobb had employed every spare moment of
his time in experimenting in chemistry and electricity. The room off
the sitting-room, where the three gentlemen were gathered this dark
and foggy night, was his workshop, into which no man was permitted to
go save he himself. Its mysterious contents were known to no other
person.
His friends would come and visit him, and sit for hours talking and
chatting, but no invitation was ever accorded them to enter that single
room.
"Craft," and Cobb pointed his finger at that personage in an impatient
manner, "we have often discussed these matters, I will admit, but it is
a theme I like to talk upon. Do you believe in the immortality of the
soul?"
"Why, of course," replied that person, looking surprised.
"And you, too, Hathaway?" continued Cobb, addressing the other.
"Most certainly I do," was the reply.
"Now, do either of you believe that the living body can be so prepared
that it will continue to hold the soul within its fleshly portals for
years without losing that great and unknown essence?" and Cobb fixed
his sparkling eyes upon his listeners.
"Yes," answered Craft; "but by God alone."
"I do not mean by God," quickly returned the other. "God is all
powerful; but by man?"
"Then, of course, I would say that it cannot be done."
"But if I were to show you that it was a fact, an accomplished fact,
you would, of course, admit it?"
"No, Cobb. Look here, old fellow," pettishly exclaimed Hathaway, rising
from his chair, "what is all this about, anyway?"
Cobb glanced at him with an expression of pity, and quickly replied:
"I mean, Hathaway, that it is in my power to hold the life of mortal
man within its living body for an unlimited time. I mean that I can
take your body, Hathaway, and so manipulate it that you will be, to all
appearance, dead; but your soul, or whatever you choose to call it,
will still be in your body; and further, that after a certain time you
will again come to life, having all your former freshness and youth."
Cobb stood at the table with his hand upon the pages of his book, and a
smile upon his face which seemed to say, "Deny it if you can."
Hathaway and Craft looked at him in amazement. These men had known Cobb
to be a student, but neither of them had ever thought him demented.
The proposition advanced by him seemed so terribly contrary to all the
principles of science, natural law, and life, that neither of them
could believe that the man was in earnest.
Both Hathaway and Craft had often come to Cobb's quarters, and
exchanged ideas with him concerning various and many topics; both knew
him to be a student of chemistry and philosophy, and that he worked
many hours in his little back room. They knew that he worked with
chemicals and electricity, and both knew him to be a very peculiar man,
yet neither of them had ever before seemed to be imbued with the belief
that the man was of unsound mind. The grave and startling statement
advanced by Cobb had so astonished them that it was impossible to think
him sane.
"Yes," continued Cobb, "I have found this power. I have no doubt that
it strikes you with amazement that I should even suggest such an
almost preposterous theory. I have no doubt that you almost think me
insane; but my researches in the past few years have been rewarded
by the most startling discoveries. We have all imagined, for many
years, that as soon as the body was deprived of air for a considerable
time, life would become extinct, or, in other words, that life could
not exist without air. Such is not the case--ah! do not start," he
exclaimed, seeing both Hathaway and Craft bend forward inquiringly
in their chairs. "I repeat, such is not the case. Without the oxygen
in the air, the blood of man would be white, yet it would possess
all the properties necessary to continue life. But one thing must
not be confounded with this statement: oxygen is necessary for life
_with_ action, but not necessary for life _without_ action. A strange
statement, is it not? Am I tedious?" he asked, looking at his listeners.
"No; not at all," they both exclaimed. "Please continue, for we are
very much interested."
"Well," and Cobb's eyes flashed as he warmed up to his subject, "it
was long ago discovered that there was a peculiar odor arising upon
the passage of a current of electricity through oxygen gas; this was
also perceived even in working an electrical machine. This odor was
named ozone. Both of you gentlemen are sufficiently proficient in
chemistry for me to pass over the various methods by which ozone can
be manufactured, yet I think it quite necessary that I should state a
few facts about this very remarkable gas, if, indeed, it can be called
a gas; it is really allotropic oxygen. Now, oxygen can be put into a
liquid state, or even into a solid state; yet it is most difficult
to keep it in either of those conditions--so much so that it would
be of no use for the purposes for which I desire to use it. Oxygen
is contracted by passing an electric spark through it, and ozone is
perceived by the peculiar odor arising therefrom. If the intensity of
the current is increased sufficiently, the oxygen is proportionately
decreased in bulk. Suffice it to say that oxygen can be reduced
millions of times in bulk by this simple method, always provided that
the electrical energy was sufficient at starting. You will perceive,"
and he hastily quitted the room, entered his workshop, and returned
with a small bottle fitted with a tight stopper, and containing
apparently a stick of camphor--"you will perceive," he continued,
"when I open this bottle, a most peculiar odor, | 299.745598 |
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This eBook was produced by David Widger
from etext #1581 prepared by Dennis McCarthy, Atlanta, Georgia
and Tad Book, student, Pontifical North American College, Rome.
THE HOLY BIBLE
Translated from the Latin Vulgate
Diligently Compared with the Hebrew, Greek,
and Other Editions in Divers Languages
THE OLD TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Douay
A.D. 1609 & 1610
and
THE NEW TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Rheims
A.D. 1582
With Annotations
The Whole Revised and Diligently Compared with
the Latin Vulgate by Bishop Richard Challoner
A.D. 1749-1752
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE
The same vein of divine love and charity towards our neighbour, which
runs throughout the Gospel written by the beloved disciple and
Evangelist, St. John, is found also in his Epistles. He confirms the two
principal mysteries of faith: The mystery of the Trinity and the mystery
of the incarnation of Jesus Christ the Son of God. The sublimity and
excellence of the evangelical doctrine he declares: And this commandment
we have from God, that he, who loveth God, love also his brother (chap.
4,21). And again: For this is the charity of God, that we keep his
commandments, and: His commandments are not heavy (chap. 5,3). He shews
how to distinguish the children of God from those of the devil: marks
out those who should be called Antichrists: describes the turpitude and
gravity of sin. Finally, he shews how the sinner may hope for pardon. It
was written, according to Baronius' account, sixty-six years after our
Lord's Ascension.
1 John Chapter 1
He declares what he has seen and heard of Christ who is the life
eternal, to the end that we may have fellowship with God and all good
through him. Yet so if we confess our sins.
1:1. That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we
have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have
handled, of the word of life.
1:2. For the life was manifested: and we have seen and do bear witness
and declare unto you the life eternal, which was with the Father and
hath appeared to us.
1:3. That which we have seen and have heard, we declare unto you: that
you also may have fellowship with us and our fellowship may be with the
Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
1:4. And these things we write to you, that you may rejoice and your joy
may be full.
1:5. And this is the declaration which we have heard from him and
declare unto you: That God is light and in him there is no darkness.
1:6. If we say that we have fellowship with him and walk in darkness, we
lie and do not the truth.
1:7. But if we walk in the light, as he also is in the light, we have
fellowship one with another: And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son
cleanseth us from all sin.
1:8. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth
is not in us.
1:9. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, to forgive us our
sins and to cleanse us from all iniquity.
1:10. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar: and his
word is not in us.
1 John Chapter 2
Christ is our advocate. We must keep his commandments and love one
another. We must not love the world nor give ear to new teachers, but
abide by the spirit of God in the church.
2:1. My little children, these things I write to you, that you may not
sin. But if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus
Christ the just. 2:2. And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not
for ours only, but also for those of the whole world.
2:3. And by this we know that we have known him, if we keep his
commandments.
We have known him, if we keep his commandments... He speaks of that
practical knowledge by love and affection, which can only be proved by
our keeping his commandments; and without which we can not be said to
know God as we should do.
2:4. He who saith that he knoweth him and keepeth not his commandments
is a liar: and the truth is not in him.
2:5. But he that keepeth his word, in him in very deed the charity of
God is perfected. And by this we know that we are in him.
2:6. He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also to walk even as
he walked.
2:7. Dearly beloved, I write not a new commandment to you, but an old
commandment which you had from the beginning. The old commandment is the
word which you have heard.
2:8. Again a new commandment I write unto you: which thing is true both
in him and in you, because the darkness is passed and the true light now
shineth.
A new commandment... Viz., the commandment of love, which was first
given in the old law; but was renewed and extended by Christ. See John
13.34.
2:9. He that saith he is in the light and hateth his brother is in
darkness even until now.
2:10. He that loveth his brother abideth in the light: and there is no
scandal in him.
2:11. But he that hateth his brother is in darkness and walketh in
darkness and knoweth not whither he goeth: because the darkness hath
blinded his eyes.
2:12. I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven
you for his name's sake.
2:13. I write unto you, fathers, because you have known him who is from
the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because you have overcome
the wicked one.
2:14. I write unto you, babes, because you have known the Father. I
write unto you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God
abideth in you, and you have overcome the wicked one.
2:15. Love not the world, nor the things which are in the world. If any
man love the world, the charity of the Father is not in him.
2:16. For all that is in the world is the concupiscence of the flesh and
the concupiscence of the eyes and the pride of life, which is not of the
Father but is of the world.
2:17. And the world passeth away and the concupiscence thereof: but he
that doth the will of God abideth for ever.
2:18. Little children, it is the last hour: and as you have heard that
Antichrist cometh, even now there are become many Antichrists: whereby
we know that it is the last hour.
It is the last hour... That is, it is the last age of the world. Many
Antichrists;... that is, many heretics, enemies of Christ and his
church, and forerunners of the great Antichrist.
2:19. They went out from us but they were not of us. For if they had
been of us, they would no doubt have remained with us: but that they may
be manifest, that they are not all of us.
They were not of us... That is, they were not solid, steadfast, genuine
Christians: otherwise they would have remained in the church.
2:20. But you have the unction from the Holy One and know all things.
The unction from the Holy One... That is, grace and wisdom from the Holy
Ghost. Know all things... The true children of God's church, remaining
in unity, under the guidance of their lawful pastors, partake of the
grace of the Holy Ghost, promised to the church and her pastors; and
have in the church all necessary knowledge and instruction; so as to
have no need to seek it elsewhere, since it can be only found in that
society of which they are members.
2:21. I have not written to you as to them that know not the truth, but
as to them that know it: and that no lie is of the truth.
2:22. Who is a liar, but he who denieth that Jesus is the Christ? This
is Antichrist, who denieth the Father and the Son.
2:23. Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father. He that
confesseth the Son hath the Father also.
2:24. As for you, let that which you have heard from the beginning abide
in you. If that | 299.957393 |
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E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/overshadowednove00grigrich
OVERSHADOWED.
A Novel.
by
SUTTON E. GRIGGS
Author of "Imperium in Imperio."
Nashville, Tenn.:
The Orion Publishing Co.
1901.
Copyrighted
Sutton E. Griggs
1901.
DEDICATION.
To the Memory of
ALBERTA,
Who, in the absence of this her oldest
brother, crossed over the dark stream, smiling
as she went, this volume is most
affectionately dedicated by
_THE AUTHOR._
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
The task assigned to the <DW64>s of the United States is unique in the
history of mankind.
He whose grandfather was a savage and whose father was a slave has been
bidden to participate in a highly complex civilization on terms of
equality with the most cultured, aggressive and virile type of all
times, the Anglo-Saxon.
The stupendous character of the task is apparent when it is called to
mind that the civilization in which they are to work out their
respective destinies is fitted to the nature of the Anglo-Saxon, because
he evolved it; while, on the other hand, the nature of the <DW64> _must
be fitted to the civilization_, thus necessitating the casting aside of
all that he had evolved.
This attempt on the part of the infant child of modern civilization to
keep pace with the hale and hearty parent thereof, has served to
contribute its quota of tragedies to the countless myriads that have
been enacted under the sun, since the Cosmic forces first broke forth
out of night into light, and began their upward, sightless, or shall we
rather say, full visioned tread in quest of the "music of the spheres"
and the higher purposes of the GREAT BEYOND.
What part in the great final programme these Cosmic forces have assigned
to the attempt of the <DW64> to journey by the side of the white man,
none are yet able to say, the situation being still in process of
unfoldment.
While we watch with becoming reverence and muse thereon, we catch up our
lyre to sing to the memory of those slain in their name, if not by their
order.
Very respectfully yours,
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
I. A Girl Perplexed
II. The Cause Revealed but not Removed
III. Other Actors
IV. A Lady who did not know that she was a Lady
V. What a Kiss Did
VI. Up to Date Aristocracy in a <DW64> Church
VII. Rev. Josiah Nerve, D. D. S.
VIII. He Narrowly Escapes
IX. The Pit is Dug
X. The Victims
XI. Murder
XII. The Visit of a Policeman
XIII. Backward, then Forward
XIV. As Least Expected
XV. An Awful Resolve
XVI. A Political Trick
XVII. Paving the Way
XVIII. John Wysong Confesses
XIX. Added Sorrows
XX. Speaker Lanier
XXI. The Hanging
XXII. Worse than Death
XXIII. Full of Joy
XXIV. Opposing the Wedding
XXV. Erma and an Assassin
XXVI. Name the Chapter After you Read It
XXVII. The Funeral
PROEM.
A farmer who is planting corn in a fertile field, halts beneath the
shade of a huge oak to rest at noon.
Accidentally a grain of corn drops from his bag, finds lodgement in the
soil, and in time begins to grow.
The grains that fell in the field will have their difficulties in
reaching maturity.
There is the danger of too much water, of the drought, of the coming
worms.
But the grain that came to life under the oak has its _peculiar_
struggles.
It must contend for sustenance with the roots of the oak.
It must wrestle with the shade of the oak.
The life of this isolated grain of corn is one continuous tragedy.
OVERSHADOWED is the story of this grain of corn, the Anglo-Saxon being
the oak, and the <DW64> the plant struggling for existence.
To be true to life, the story must indeed be a sombre one.
So, OVERSHADOWED is a tragedy--a story of sorrow and suffering.
Yet the gloom is enlivened by the presence of a heroic figure, a
beautiful, noble girl, who stands unabashed in the presence of every
ill.
OVERSHADOWED does not point the way out of the dungeon which it
describes, but it clearly indicates the task before the reformer when he
comes.
If you have time and inclination for such a recital--the curtain rises
and the play begins.
OVERSHADOWED.
CHAPTER I.
A GIRL, PERPLEXED.
To-and-fro, to-and-fro, with hurried, restless tread, Erma Wysong walked
her parlor floor, forgetful of the young man who sat in a corner and
gazed at her, with all of his powers of sight apparently doing double
duty. Her hair, slightly coarse of thread, glistening as if in pride of
its extreme blackness, was combed away from a brow that was exceedingly
pretty and formed a part of a head that forewarned you to expect the
possessor thereof to have an intellect of a very high order. A few
unruly locks of her glossy hair had escaped from the grasp confining the
others backward, and were hanging forward as if to peep into her tender
brown eyes so full of soul; or, to tantalize a very prettily formed
nose; or, to tempt a bite from a row of pearls even and gleamingly
white; or, to nestle upon a cheek the tenderness and ruddiness of which
were standing invitations for gentle pressure.
Erma, nearly tall, a happy medium between the plump and the lithe, the
perfection of symmetry, her whole frame a series of divinely fashioned
curves, paced to and fro, her beautiful face wearing a look of mental
perplexity. First her right hand and then her left tossed back with a
nervous jerk the straying locks.
Astral Herndon, a tall and exceedingly handsome young man, who was
paying her a call, sat in an armchair in a corner of the small room,
and, with body bent forward, was looking intently at Erma, as has been
stated, his entire soul ablaze with curiosity to know what had so
operated upon the mind of the erstwhile winsome, laughing, merry Erma,
as to cause her to break off abruptly an ordinary conversation and begin
her restless journeyings to-and-fro across her parlor floor, vouchsafing
to him not a word of apology or explanation, and apparently oblivious of
his presence. The transition from the lively gay to the deathly sad, was
so quick, so queer, so utterly inconsistent with all that he had
hitherto known of Erma--it was so far from anything warranted by the
rather commonplace conversation in which they had been engaged, that he
was very naturally in the depths of wonderland, staring with all his
might. He saw her thin, red lips quiver, as if with deep emotion. He saw
repressed by a would-be secret bite of the lips, an entire flood of
tears, save a tr | 300.011492 |
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Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: A LONELY HOUSE. Page 40.]
LIVING TOO FAST;
OR,
The Confessions of a Bank Officer,
BY
WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
(_Oliver Optic_.)
AUTHOR OF “IN DOORS AND OUT,” “THE WAY OF THE WORLD,”
“YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD,” &C. &C.
_ILLUSTRATED._
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM,
1876.
COPYRIGHT,
By WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
1876.
Electrotyped by C. C. Morse & Son, Haverhill, Mass.
PREFACE.
The story contained in this volume records the experience of a bank
officer, “living too fast,” in the downward career of crime. The
writer is entirely willing now to believe that this career ought to
have ended in the state prison; but his work is a story, and he has
chosen—perhaps unhappily—to punish the defaulter in another way.
Yet running through the narrative for the sake of the contrast, is
the experience of a less showy, but more honest young man than the
principal character, who represents the true life the young business
man ought to lead. The author is not afraid that any of his young
friends who may read this book will be tempted into an “irregularity”
by the example of the delinquent bank officer, for it will be found
that his career of crime is full of remorse and positive suffering.
DORCHESTER, JULY 1, 1876.
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
CHAPTER I.
GETTING A SITUATION, 11
CHAPTER II.
MISS LILIAN OLIPHANT, 27
CHAPTER III.
GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING, 42
CHAPTER IV.
THE ENGLISH BASEMENT HOUSE, 57
CHAPTER V.
LILIAN ASTONISHED—SO AM I, 72
CHAPTER VI.
A FAMILY JAR, 87
CHAPTER VII.
A SHADOW OF SUSPICION, 102
CHAPTER VIII.
COMING TO THE POINT, 116
CHAPTER IX.
A LONELY HOUSE, 131
CHAPTER X.
MY WIFE AND I, 145
CHAPTER XI.
OVER THE PRECIPICE, 160
CHAPTER XII.
A KEEPER IN THE HOUSE, 174
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SECOND STEP, 187
CHAPTER XIV.
THE HOUSE-WARMING, 201
CHAPTER XV.
MY UNCLE IS SAVAGE, 214
CHAPTER XVI.
CORMORIN AND I, 228
CHAPTER XVII.
PROVIDING FOR THE WORST, 242
CHAPTER XVIII.
BUSTUMUPS AT FIFTY, 256
CHAPTER XIX.
A CRASH IN COPPERS, 270
CHAPTER XX.
THE LAST STEP, 283
CHAPTER XXI.
AN EXILE FROM HOME, 297
CHAPTER XXII.
CHARLES GASPILLER, 311
CHAPTER XXIII.
MY CONFESSION, 324
CHAPTER XXIV.
AUNT RACHEL’S WILL, 337
LIVING TOO FAST;
OR,
THE CONFESSIONS OF A BANK OFFICER.
_CHAPTER I._
GETTING A SITUATION.
[Illustration]
“I DON’T wish to stand in your way, Tom Flynn.”
“And I don’t wish to stand in your way, Paley Glasswood,” replied Tom,
with a refreshing promptness, which was intended to assure me, and did
assure me, that he was my friend, and that he was unwilling to take any
unfair advantage of me.
Tom and myself were applicants for the situation of discount clerk
in the Forty-ninth National Bank of Boston. We had submitted our
applications separately, and each without the knowledge of the
other. If we had taken counsel together before doing so, possibly
some sentimental outbreak would have prevented one or the other from
placing himself even in a seeming attitude of competition with the
other. We had been schoolmates in Springhaven, had been cronies,
and agreed as well as boys usually do. It is true he had given me a
tremendous thrashing on one occasion, when I ventured to regard myself
as physically his equal. Though I could not quite forgive him for the
drubbing he gave me, I did not respect him any the less. While we were
good friends, as the world goes, I was sometimes rather annoyed by the
consciousness of being slightly his inferior.
Tom was always a little ahead of me in scholarship, and always
contrived to come out just in advance of me in every thing in which we
were brought into real or fancied rivalry with each other. Still he
was never so far before me as to shut me out of the sphere in which he
moved. But in spite of my repeated partial defeats, I regarded myself
as fully his equal. Perhaps my vanity assured me that I was slightly
his superior, for, like the rest of the world, I was human then, as I
have unfortunately proved myself to be since. I was tolerably sure that
in the great battle of life which all of us are compelled to fight, I
should come out all right. When it came to the matter of business, I
was confident that I should outstrip him.
Both of us had been graduated at the Springhaven High School, with the
highest honors, though as usual Tom was a little higher than myself,
for while he received the first diploma, the second was awarded to me.
Tom was my friend, and always treated me with the utmost kindness and
consideration, but I could not help feeling just a little stung by his
superiority; by his continually coming out about half a length ahead
of me. Springhaven is not so far from the metropolis of New England as
to be regarded as a provincial town; and though engaging in business
anywhere except in the great city was not the height of his or my
ambition, Tom had gone into a store in his native place, and obtained
his earliest knowledge of the ways of the world. But when he was
twenty-one he obtained a situation in an office in the city in which
he received a salary of six hundred dollars a year.
Again, at this interesting period of life which seems to be the
beginning of all things to a young man, Tom was ahead of me, for I
had gone to the city as a boy of sixteen, and when I was of age, my
employers refused to give me over five hundred a year. Tom had been
lucky—this was my view of the case. Tom had blundered into a good
situation, and it was no merit of his own. I deserved something better
than I had, and it was only the stupid and stingy policy of the firm
which had “brought me up” that rendered my position inferior to that of
my friend.
I had one advantage over my friendly rival, however, in my own
estimation. My character was above suspicion, which could not be said
of Tom, though in the city not a word affecting his reputation had ever
been breathed, so far as I was aware. At the store in Springhaven where
Tom had served two years as a clerk, several sums of money had been
missed. There was no proof that Tom took them, but a few people in town
knew that he was suspected of the theft, especially as he appeared to
be living beyond his income. I do not believe my friend even knew that
he was suspected of the theft, but inasmuch as he was the only person
besides the two partners who had access to the safe where the money was
kept, it seemed probable to Mr. Gorham, the senior member, that he was
guilty.
It was a serious matter, and the two partners used every effort to
discover the thief. They put decoys in the safe, such as marked bank
bills, and resorted to various expedients, but it always happened
that none of these traps were ever disturbed. Though various sums
mysteriously disappeared, the decoys were never touched. Mr. Gorham
declared that Tom was too smart for him, and Mr. Welch, the junior,
never said much about the matter. At a convenient time, without
stating any reason for the step, Tom was informed that his services
were no longer required; that a change in the business rendered them
unnecessary. The junior partner retired from the firm, and the senior
carried on the store alone.
Mr. Gorham was a relative of my mother, and knowing of my intimacy with
Tom, he regarded it as his duty to inform her of the suspicions which
he entertained. My mother was shocked and appalled. Tom was the son of
one of the best men in the town, and as there was no direct proof of
the crime, it was not deemed expedient to say anything about it. Mr.
Gorham did not say anything, except to my mother, and she, appreciating
the kindness of her kinsman, faithfully promised to keep the momentous
secret. Probably there were not a half dozen persons in Springhaven who
knew that Tom left his place under suspicion, and those were the family
and intimate friends of the storekeeper.
I will not say that the knowledge of this circumstance afforded me
any satisfaction, but it helped me to feel that I was the superior
of Tom; that in being honest I had a decided advantage over him. I | 300.049828 |
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[Illustration: OLD STONE HOMESTEAD.]
THE BLUE-GRASS
REGION OF KENTUCKY
AND OTHER KENTUCKY ARTICLES
BY JAMES LANE ALLEN. ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration: (Publisher's logo)]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
M DCCC XCII
Copyright, 1892, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
PREFACE
The articles herein reprinted from HARPER'S and _The Century_ magazines
represent work done at intervals during the period that the author was
writing the tales already published under the title of _Flute and
Violin_.
It was his plan that with each descriptive article should go a short
story dealing with the same subject, and this plan was in part wrought
out. Thus, with the article entitled "Uncle Tom at Home" goes the tale
entitled "Two Gentlemen of Kentucky;" and with the article entitled "A
Home of the Silent Brotherhood" goes the tale entitled "The White Cowl."
In the same way, there were to be short stories severally dealing with
the other subjects embraced in this volume. But having in part wrought
out this plan, the author has let it rest--not finally, perhaps, but
because in the mean time he has found himself engaged with other themes.
[Illustration: JAMES LANE ALLEN
AUTHOR OF
"THE KENTUCKY CARDINAL,"
"THE CHOIR INVISIBLE,"
"THE REIGN OF LAW," ETC.
BOOK NEWS PORTRAIT N
VOL. 24. NO. 287, JULY.]
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE BLUE-GRASS REGION 1
UNCLE TOM AT HOME 45
COUNTY COURT DAY IN KENTUCKY 87
KENTUCKY FAIRS 127
A HOME OF THE SILENT BROTHERHOOD 169
HOMESTEADS OF THE BLUE-GRASS 199
THROUGH CUMBERLAND GAP ON HORSEBACK 229
MOUNTAIN PASSES OF THE CUMBERLAND 269
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Old Stone Homestead _Frontispiece_
Blue-grass 5
Sheep in Woodland Pasture 9
<DW64> Cabins 15
Cattle in a Blue-grass Pasture 21
Hemp Field 25
Tobacco Patch 29
Harrodsburg Pike 33
A Spring-house 41
The Mammy 59
The Cook 65
Chasing the Rabbit 77
The Preacher 81
Wet Goods for Sale--Bowling Green 91
Concluding a Bargain 93
Court-house Square, Lexington, Kentucky 97
The "Tickler" 101
The Quack-doctor 105
Auctioning a Jack 109
Lords of the Soil 113
Swapping Horses 117
Gentlemen of Leisure 121
Corn-husking 131
Militia Muster 135
Products of the Soil 139
Cattle at Lexington Fair 143
Harness Horses 147
The Modern Tourney 151
The Judge's Stand--The Finish 155
A Dinner-party 157
The Race-course--The Finish 159
Stallions 163
Mules 165
Office of the Father Prior 177
Within the Gates 181
A Fortnightly Shave 187
The Garden 197
Old Ferry at Point Burnside 233
"Damn me if them ain't the damnedest beans I ever seen!" 237
Moonrise on Cumberland Ridge 239
Cumberland Falls 243
Native Types 247
Interior of a Mountaineer's Home 251
Mountain Courtship 255
A Family Burying-ground 259
A Mountaineer Dame 261
Old Corn-mill at Pineville 265
Map Showing Mountain Passes of the Cumberland 277
Cumberland Gap 281
Ford on the Cumberland 297
Kentucky River from High Bridge 309
THE BLUE-GRASS REGION
I
One might well name it Saxon grass, so much is it at home in Saxon
England, so like the loveliest landscapes of green Saxon England has it
made other landscapes on which dwell a kindred race in America, and so
akin is it to the type of nature that is peculiarly Saxon: being a
hardy, kindly, beautiful, nourishing stock; loving rich lands and apt to
find out where they lie; uprooting inferior aborigines, but stoutly
defending its new domain against all invaders; paying taxes well, with
profits to boot; thriving best in temperate latitudes and checkered
sunshine; benevolent to flocks and herds; and allying itself closely to
the history of any people whose content lies in simple plenty and
habitual peace--the perfect squire-and-yeoman type of grasses.
In the earliest spring nothing is sooner afield to contest possession
of the land than the blue-grass. Its little green spear-points are the
first to pierce the soft rich earth, and array themselves in countless
companies over the rolling landscapes, while its roots reach out in
every direction for securer foothold. So early does this take place,
that a late hoar-frost will now and then mow all these bristling
spear-points down. Sometimes a slow-falling sleet will incase each
emerald blade in glittering silver; but the sun by-and-by melts the
silver, leaving the blade unhurt. Or a light snow-fall will cover tufts
of it over, making pavilions and colonnades with white roofs resting on
green pillars. The roofs vanish anon, and the columns go on silently
rising. But usually the final rigors of the season prove harmless to the
blue-grass. One sees it most beautiful in the spring, just before the
seed stalks have shot upward from the flowing tufts, and while the thin,
smooth, polished blades, having risen to their greatest height, are
beginning to bend, or break and fall over on themselves and their nether
fellows from sheer luxuriance. The least observant eye is now
constrained to note that blue-grass is the characteristic element of the
Kentucky turf--the first element of beauty in the Kentucky landscape.
Over the stretches of woodland pasture, over the meadows and the lawns,
by the edges of turnpike and lane, in the fence corners--wherever its
seed has been allowed to flourish--it spreads a verdure so soft in fold
and fine in texture, so entrancing by its freshness and fertility, that
it looks like a deep-lying, thick-matted emerald moss. One thinks of it,
not as some heavy, velvet-like carpet spread over the earth, but as some
light, seamless veil that has fallen delicately around it, and that
might be blown away by a passing breeze.
[Illustration: BLUE-GRASS.]
After this you will not see the blue-grass so beautiful. The seed ripens
in June. Already the slender seed stalks have sprung up above the
uniform green level, bearing on their summits the fuzzy, plumy, purplish
seed-vessels; and save the soft, feathery undulations of these as the
wind sweeps over them, the beauty of the blue-grass is gone. Moreover,
certain robust and persistent weeds and grasses have been growing
apace, roughening and diversifying the sward, so that the vista is less
charming. During July and August the blue-grass lies comparatively
inactive, resting from fructification, and missing, as well, frequent
showers to temper the sunshine. In seasons of severe drought it even
dies quite away, leaving the surface of the earth as bare and brown as a
winter landscape or arid plain. Where it has been closely grazed, one
may, in walking over it, stir such a dust as one would raise on a
highway; and the upturned, half-exposed rootlets seem entirely dead. But
the moderated heats and the gentle rains that usually come with the
passing of summer bring on a second vigorous growth, and in the course
of several weeks the landscape is covered with a verdure rivalling the
luxuriance of spring.
There is something incongruous in this marvellous autumnal
rejuvenescence of the blue-grass. All nature appears content and
resting. The grapes on the sunward <DW72>s have received their final
coloring of purple and gold; the heavy mast is beginning to drop in the
forest, followed by the silent lapse of russet and crimson leaves; the
knee-deep aftermath has paled its green in the waiting autumn fields;
the plump children are stretching out their nut-stained hands towards
the first happy fire-glow on chill, dark evenings; and the cricket has
left the sere, dead garden for a winter home at the hearth. Then, lo!
as if by some freakish return of the spring to the edge of winter the
pastures are suddenly as fresh and green as those | 300.25193 |
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THE
GOOD GRAY POET.
A VINDICATION.
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
BUNCE & HUNTINGTON, 459, BROOME STREET.
1866.
THE GOOD GRAY POET.
A VINDICATION.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON, D. C., _September 2, 1865_.
Nine weeks have elapsed since the commission of an outrage, to which I
have not till now been able to give my attention, but which, in the
interest of the sacred cause of free letters, and in that alone, I never
meant should pass without its proper and enduring brand.
For years past, thousands of people in New York, in Brooklyn, in Boston,
in New Orleans, and latterly in Washington, have seen, even as I saw two
hours ago, tallying, one might say, the streets of our American cities,
and fit to have for his background and accessories, their streaming
populations and ample and rich façades, a man of striking masculine
beauty—a poet—powerful and venerable in appearance; large, calm,
superbly formed; oftenest clad in the careless, rough, and always
picturesque costume of the common people; resembling, and generally
taken by strangers for, some great mechanic, or stevedore, or seaman, or
grand laborer of one kind or another; and passing slowly in this guise,
with nonchalant and haughty step along the pavement, with the sunlight
and shadows falling around him. The dark sombrero he usually wears was,
when I saw him just now, the day being warm, held for the moment in his
hand; rich light an artist would have chosen, lay upon his uncovered
head, majestic, large, Homeric, and set upon his strong shoulders with
the grandeur of ancient sculpture; I marked the countenance, serene,
proud, cheerful, florid, grave; the brow seamed with noble wrinkles; the
features, massive and handsome, with firm blue eyes; the eyebrows and
eyelids especially showing that fullness of arch seldom seen save in the
antique busts; the flowing hair and fleecy beard, both very gray, and
tempering with a look of age the youthful aspect of one who is but
forty-five; the simplicity and purity of his dress, cheap and plain, but
spotless, from snowy falling collar to burnished boot, and exhaling
faint fragrance; the whole form surrounded with manliness, as with a
nimbus, and breathing, in its perfect health and vigor, the august charm
of the strong. We who have looked upon this figure, or listened to that
clear, cheerful, vibrating voice, might thrill to think, could we but
transcend our age, that we had been thus near to one of the greatest of
the sons of men. But Dante stirs no deep pulse, unless it be of hate, as
he walks the streets of Florence; that shabby, one-armed soldier, just
out of jail and hardly noticed, though he has amused Europe, is Michael
Cervantes; that son of a vine-dresser, whom Athens laughs at as an
eccentric genius, before it is thought worth while to roar him into
exile, is the century-shaking Æschylus; that phantom whom the wits of
the seventeenth century think not worth extraordinary notice, and the
wits of the eighteenth century, spluttering with laughter, call a
barbarian, is Shakespeare; that earth-soiled, vice-stained ploughman,
with the noble heart and sweet, bright eyes, whom the good abominate and
the gentry patronize—subject now of anniversary banquets by gentlemen
who, could they wander backward from those annual hiccups into Time,
would never help his life or keep his company—is Robert Burns; and this
man, whose grave, perhaps, the next century will cover with passionate
and splendid honors, goes regarded with careless curiosity or phlegmatic
composure by his own age. Yet, perhaps, in a few hearts he has waked
that deep thrill due to the passage of the sublime. I heard lately, with
sad pleasure, of the letter introducing a friend, filled with noble
courtesy, and dictated by the reverence for genius, which a
distinguished English nobleman, a stranger, sent to this American bard.
Nothing deepens my respect for the beautiful intellect of the scholar
Alcott, like the bold sentence, “Greater than Plato,” which he once
uttered upon him. I hold it the surest proof of Thoreau’s insight, that
after a conversation, seeing how he incarnated the immense and new
spirit of the age, and was the compend of America, he came away to speak
the electric sentence, “He is Democracy!” I treasure to my latest hour,
with swelling heart and springing tears, the remembrance that Abraham
Lincoln, seeing him for the first time from the window of the East Room
of the White House as he passed slowly by, and gazing at him long with
that deep eye which read men, said, in the quaint, sweet tone which
those who have spoken with him will remember, and with a significant
emphasis which the type can hardly convey—“Well, _he_ looks like A
MAN!” Sublime tributes, great words; but none too high for their object,
the author of _Leaves of Grass_, Walt Whitman, of Brooklyn.
On the 30th of June last, this true American man and author was
dismissed, under circumstances of peculiar wrong, from a clerkship he
had held for six months in the Department of the Interior. His dismissal
was the act of the Hon. James Harlan, the Secretary of the Department,
formerly a Methodist clergyman, and President of a Western college.
Upon the interrogation of an eminent officer of the Government, at whose
instance the appointment had, under a former Secretary, been made, Mr.
Harlan averred that Walt Whitman had been in no way remiss in the
discharge of his duties, but that, on the contrary, so far as he could
learn, his conduct had been most exemplary. Indeed, during the few
months of his tenure of office, he had been promoted. The sole and only
cause of his dismissal, Mr. Harlan said, was that he had written the
book of poetry entitled _Leaves of Grass_. This book Mr. Harlan
characterized as “full of indecent passages.” The author, he said, was
“a very bad man,” a “Free-Lover.” Argument being had upon these
propositions, Mr. Harlan was, as regards the book, utterly unable to
maintain his assertions; and, as regards the author, was forced to own
that his opinion of him had been changed. Nevertheless, after this
substantial admission of his injustice, he absolutely refused to revoke
his action. Of course, under no circumstances would Walt Whitman, the
proudest man that lives, have consented to again enter into office under
Mr. Harlan: but the demand for his reinstatement was as honorable to the
gentleman who made it, as the refusal to accede to it was discreditable
to the Secretary.
The closing feature of this transaction, and one which was a direct
consequence of Mr. Harlan’s course, was its remission to the scurrilous,
and in some instances libellous, comment of a portion of the press. To
sum up, an author, solely and only for the publication, ten years ago,
of an honest book, which no intelligent and candid person can regard as
hurtful to morality, was expelled from office by the Secretary, and held
up to public contumely by the newspapers. It remains only to be added
here, that the Hon. James Harlan is the gentleman who, upon assuming the
control of the Department, published a manifesto, announcing that it was
thenceforth to be governed upon the principles of Christian
civilization.
This act of expulsion, and all that it encloses, is the outrage to which
I referred in the opening sentence of this letter.
I have had the honor, which I esteem a very high one, to know Walt
Whitman intimately for several years, and am perfectly conversant with
the details of his life and history. Scores and scores of persons, who
know him well, can confirm my own report of him, and I have therefore no
hesitation in saying that the scandalous assertions of Mr. Harlan,
derived from whom I know not, as to his being a bad man, a Free-Lover,
&c., belong to the category of those calumnies at which, as Napoleon
said, innocence itself is confounded. A better man in all respects, or
one more irreproachable in his relations to the other sex, lives not
upon this earth. His is the great goodness, the great chastity of
spiritual strength and sanity. I do not believe that from the hour of
his infancy, when Lafayette held him in his arms, to the present hour,
in which he bends over the last wounded and dying of the war, that any
one can say aught of him that does not consort with the largest and
truest manliness. I am perfectly aware of the miserable lies which have
been put into circulation respecting him, of which the story of his
dishonoring an invitation to dine with Emerson, by appearing at the
table of the Astor House in a red shirt, and with the manners of a
rowdy, is a mild specimen. I know, too, the inferences drawn by wretched
fools, who, because they have seen him riding upon the top of an
omnibus; or at Pfaff’s restaurant; or dressed in rough clothes suitable
for his purposes, and only remarkable because the wearer was a man of
genius; or mixing freely and lovingly, like Lucretius, like Rabelais,
like Francis Bacon, like Rembrandt, like all great students of the
world, with low and equivocal and dissolute persons, as well as with
those of a different character, must needs set him down as a brute, a
scallawag, and a criminal. Mr. Harlan’s allegations are of a piece with
these. If I could associate the title with a really great person, or if
the name of man were not radically superior, I should say that for solid
nobleness of character, for native elegance and delicacy of soul, for a
courtesy which is the very passion of thoughtful kindness and
forbearance, for his tender and paternal respect and manly honor for
woman, for love and heroism carried into the pettiest details of life,
and for a large and homely beauty of manners, which makes the civilities
of parlors fantastic and puerile in comparison, Walt Whitman deserves to
be considered the grandest gentleman that treads this continent. I know
well the habits and tendencies of his life. They are all simple, sane,
domestic; worthy of him as one of an estimable family and a member of
society. He is a tender and faithful son, a good brother, a loyal
friend, an ardent and devoted citizen. He has been a laborer, working
successively as a farmer, a carpenter, a printer. He has been a stalwart
editor of the Republican party, and often, in that powerful and nervous
prose of which he is master, done yeoman’s service for the great cause
of human liberty and the imperial conception of the indivisible Union.
He has been a visitor of prisons; a protector of fugitive slaves; a
constant voluntary nurse, night and day, at the hospitals, from the
beginning of the war to the present time; a brother and friend through
life to the neglected and the forgotten, the poor, the degraded, the
criminal, the outcast; turning away from no man for his guilt, nor woman
for her vileness. His is the strongest and truest compassion I have ever
known. I remember here the anecdote told me by a witness, of his meeting
in a by-street in Boston a poor ruffian, one whom he had known well as
an innocent child, now a full-grown youth, vicious far beyond his years,
flying to Canada from the pursuit of the police, his sin-trampled
features bearing marks of the recent bloody brawl in New York in which,
as he supposed, he had killed some one; and having heard his hurried
story, freely confided to him, Walt Whitman, separated not from the bad
even by his own goodness, with well I know what tender and tranquil
feeling for this ruined being, and with a love which makes me think of
that love of God which deserts not any creature, quietly at parting,
after assisting him from his means, held him for a moment, with his arm
around his neck, and, bending to the face, horrible and battered and
prematurely old, kissed him on the cheek; and the poor hunted wretch,
perhaps for the first time in his low life, receiving a token of love
and compassion like a touch from beyond the sun, hastened away in deep
dejection, sobbing and in tears. It reminds me of the anecdotes Victor
Hugo, in his portraiture of Bishop Myriel, tells, under a thin veil of
fiction, of Charles Miolles, the good Bishop of Rennes.—I know not what
talisman Walt Whitman carries, unless it be an unexcluding friendliness
and goodness which is felt upon his approach like magnetism; but I know
that in the subterranean life of cities, among the worst roughs, he goes
safely; and I could recite instances where hands that, in mere
wantonness of ferocity, assault anybody, raised against him, have of
their own accord been lowered almost as quickly, or, in some cases, been
dragged promptly down by others; this, too, I mean, when he and the
assaulting gang were mutual strangers. I have seen singular evidence of
the mysterious quality which not only guards him, but draws to him with
intuition, rapid as light, simple and rude people, as to their natural
mate and friend. I remember, as I passed the White House with him one
evening, the startled feeling with which I saw the soldier on guard
there—a stranger to us both, and with something in his action that
curiously proved that he was a stranger—suddenly bring his musket to
the “present,” in military salute to him, quickly mingling with this
respect due to his colonel, a gesture of greeting with the right hand as
to a comrade; grinning, meanwhile, good fellow, with shy, spontaneous
affection and deference; his ruddy, broad face glowing in the flare of
the lampions. I remember, on another occasion, as I crossed the street
with him, the driver of a street car, a stranger, stopping the
conveyance, and inviting him to get on and ride with him. Adventures of
this kind are frequent, and, “I took a fancy to you,” or, “You look like
one of my style,” is the common explanation he gets upon their
occurrence. It would be impossible to exaggerate the personal adhesion
and strong, simple affection given him, in numerous instances on sight,
by multitudes of plain persons—sailors, mechanics, drivers, soldiers,
farmers, sempstresses, old people of the past generation, mothers of
families—those powerful, unlettered persons, among whom, as he says in
his book, he has gone freely, and who never in most cases even suspect
as an author him whom they love as a man, and who loves them in
return.—His intellectual influence upon many young men and
women—spirits of the morning sort, not willing to belong to that
intellectual colony of Great Britain which our literary classes compose,
nor helplessly tied like them to the old forms—I note as kindred to
that of Socrates upon the youth of ancient Attica, or Raleigh upon the
gallant young England of his day. It is a power at once liberating,
instructing, and inspiring.—His conversation is a university. Those who
have heard him in some roused hour, when the full afflatus of his spirit
moved him, will agree with me that the grandeur of talk was
accomplished. He is known as a passionate lover and powerful critic of
the great music and of art. He is deeply cultured by some of the best
books, especially the Bible, which he prefers above all other great
literature; but principally by contact and communion with things
themselves, which literature can only mirror and celebrate. He has
travelled through most of the United States, intent on comprehending and
absorbing the genius and meaning of his country, that he might do his
best to start a literature worthy of her, sprung from her own polity,
and tallying her own unexampled magnificence among the nations. To the
same end, he has been a long, patient, and laborious student of life,
mixing intimately with all varieties of experience and men, with
curiosity and with love. He has given his thought, his life, to this
beautiful ambition, and, still young, he has grown gray in its service.
He has never married; like Giordano Bruno, he has made Thought in the
service of his fellow-creatures his _bella donna_, his best beloved, his
bride. His patriotism is boundless. It is no intellectual sentiment; it
is a personal passion. He performs with scrupulous fidelity and zeal,
the duties of a citizen. For eighteen years, not missing once, his
ballot has dropped on every national and local election day, and his
influence has been ardently given, for the good cause. Of all men I
know, his life is most in the life of the nation. I remember, when the
first draft was ordered, at a time when he was already performing an
arduous and perilous duty as a volunteer attendant upon the wounded in
the field—a duty which cost him the only illness he ever had in his
life, and a very severe and dangerous illness it was, the result of
poison absorbed in his devotion to the worst cases of the hospital
gangrene; and when it would have been the easiest thing in the world to
evade duty, for though then only forty-two or three years old, and
subject to the draft, he looked a hale sixty, and no enrolling officer
would have paused for an instant before his gray hair—I remember, I
say, how anxious and careful he was to get his name put on the
enrollment lists, that he might stand his chance for martial service.
This, too, at a time when so many gentlemen were skulking, dodging,
agonizing for substitutes, and practising every conceivable device to
escape military duty. What music of speech, though Cicero’s own—what
scarlet and gold superlatives could adorn or dignify this simple antique
trait of private heroism?—I recall his love for little children, for
the young, and for very old persons, as if the dawn and the evening
twilight of life awakened his deepest tenderness. I recall the affection
for him of numbers of young men, and invariably of all good women. Who,
knowing him, does not regard him as a man of the highest spiritual
culture? I have never known one of greater and deeper religious feeling.
To call one like him good, seems an impertinence. In our sweet country
phrase, he is one of God’s men. And as I write these hurried and broken
memoranda—as his strength and sweetness of nature, his moral health,
his rich humor, his gentleness, his serenity, his charity, his
simple-heartedness, his courage, his deep and varied knowledge of life
and men, his calm wisdom, his singular and beautiful boy-innocence, his
personal majesty, his rough scorn of mean actions, his magnetic and
exterminating anger on due occasions—all | 300.265214 |
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 20. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1840. VOLUME I.
[Illustration: MALAHIDE CASTLE, COUNTY OF DUBLIN.]
An ancient baronial castle, in good preservation and still inhabited by
the lineal descendant of its original founder, is a rare object to find
in Ireland; and the causes which have led to this circumstance are too
obvious to require an explanation. In Malahide Castle we have, however,
a highly interesting example of this kind; for though in its present
state it owes much of its imposing effect to modern restorations and
improvements, it still retains a considerable portion of very ancient
date, and most probably even some parts of the original castle erected
in the reign of King Henry II. Considered in this way, Malahide Castle
is without a rival in interest, not only in our metropolitan county, but
also perhaps within the boundary of the old English pale.
The Castle of Malahide is placed on a gently elevated situation on
a limestone rock near the village or town from which it derives its
name, and of which, with its picturesque bay, it commands a beautiful
prospect. In its general form it is quadrangular and nearly approaching
to a square, flanked on its south or principal front by circular towers,
with a fine “Gothic” entrance porch in the centre. Its proportions are
of considerable grandeur, and its picturesqueness is greatly heightened
by the masses of luxuriant ivy which mantle its walls. For much of its
present architectural magnificence it is however indebted to its present
proprietor, and his father, the late Colonel Talbot. The structure, as
it appeared in the commencement of the last century, was of contracted
dimensions, and had wholly lost its original castellated character,
though its ancient moat still remained. This moat is however now filled
up, and its sloping surface is converted into a green-sward, and planted
with Italian cypresses and other evergreens.
Interesting, however, as this ancient mansion is in its exterior
appearance, it is perhaps still more so in its interior features. Its
spacious hall, roofed with timber-work of oak, is of considerable
antiquity; but its attraction is eclipsed by another apartment of
equal age and vastly superior beauty, with which indeed in its way
there is nothing, as far as we know, to be compared in Ireland. This
unique apartment is wainscotted throughout with oak elaborately carved,
in compartments, with subjects derived from scripture history, and
though Gothic in their general character, some of them are executed
with considerable skill; while the chimney-piece, which exhibits in
its central division figures of the Virgin and Child, is carved with a
singular degree of elegance and beauty. The whole is richly varnished,
and from the blackness of tint which the wood has acquired from time, the
apartment, as Mr Brewer well observes, assumes the resemblance of one
vast cabinet of ebony.
The other apartments, of which there are ten on each floor, are of
inferior architectural pretensions, though some of them are of lofty
and spacious proportions. But they are not without attractions of a
high order, being enriched with some costly specimens of porcelain, and
their walls covered with the more valuable ornaments of a collection of
original portraits and paintings by the old masters. Among the former
the most remarkable are portraits of Charles I. and Queen Henrietta
Maria, by Vandyke; James II. and his queen, Anne Hyde, by Sir Peter Lely;
Queen Anne, by Sir Godfrey Kneller; the Duchess of Portsmouth, mistress
to Charles II.; the first Duke of Richmond (son of the above duchess)
when a child; Richard Talbot, the celebrated Duke of Tirconnel, Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland, general and minister to James II., by Sir Peter
Lely; the Ladies Catherine and Charlotte Talbot, daughters of the duke,
by Sir P. Lely; with many other portraits of illustrious members of the
Talbot family. The portraits of the Duchess of Portsmouth and her son
were presented by herself to Mrs Wogan of Rathcoffy, from whom they were
inherited by Colonel Talbot.
Among the pictures of more general interest, the most distinguished is
a small altar piece divided into compartments, and representing the
Nativity, Adoration, and Circumcision. This most valuable and interesting
picture is the work of Albert Durer, and is said to have belonged to the
unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots. It was purchased by Charles II. for
£2000, and was given by him to the Duchess of Portsmouth, who presented
it to the grandmother of the late Col. Talbot.
As already observed, the noble family of Talbot have been seated in their
present locality for a period of nearly seven hundred years! According to
the pedigree of the family, drawn up with every appearance of accuracy
by Sir William Betham, Richard Talbot, the second son of Richard Talbot,
Lord of Eccleswell and Linton, in Herefordshire, who was living in 1153,
having accompanied King Henry II. into Ireland, obtained from that
monarch the lordship of Malahide, being part of the two cantreds of
Leinster, in the neighbourhood of Dublin, which King Henry had reserved,
when he granted the rest of the province to Richard Earl of Strongbow,
to be held as a noble fief of the crown of England. It is at all events
certain, as appears from the chartulary or register of Mary’s Abbey, now
in the British Museum, that this Richard Talbot granted to St Mary’s
Abbey in Dublin certain lands called Venenbristen, which lie between
Croscurry and the lands of Hamon Mac Kirkyl, in pure and perpetual alms,
that the monks there might pray for the health of his soul and that of
his brother Roger, and their ancestors; and that he also leased certain
lands in Malahide and Portmarnoc to the monks of the same abbey. From
this Richard Talbot the present Lord Talbot de Malahide descends in the
twentieth generation, and in the twenty-fourth from Richard Talbot, a
Norman baron who held Hereford Castle in the time of the Conqueror. The
noble Earls of Shrewsbury and Talbot are of the same stock, but descend
from Gilbert, the elder brother of Richard, who was Lord of Eccleswell
and Linton, and was living in 1190.
There can be no question, therefore, of the noble origin of the Talbots
de Malahide, nor can their title be considered as a mushroom one,
though only conferred upon the mother of the present lord; for Sir
William Betham shows that his ancestor, Thomas Talbot, knight and lord
of Malahide, who had livery of his estate in 1349, was summoned by the
sheriff of Dublin to the Magnum Concilium, or Great Council, held in
Dublin in 1372, 46 Edward III., and again to the Magnum Concilium held
on Saturday, in the vigils of the holy Trinity, 48 Edward III., 1374,
by special writ directed to himself by the name of “_Thome Talbot,
Militis_.” He was also summoned by writ to the Parliament of Ireland in
the same year. If therefore it could be ascertained that this Thomas
Talbot actually took his seat under that writ, it would be clear that his
lineal heir-male and heir-general, the present baron, has a just claim to
the honours and dignity which he has so recently acquired.
The manor of Malahide was created by charter as early as the reign of
King Henry II., and its privileges were confirmed and enlarged by King
Edward IV. in 1475. This, we believe, still remains in the possession
of the chief of the family, but various other extensive possessions of
his ancestors passed to junior branches of his house, and have been long
alienated from his family.
Among the most memorable circumstances of general interest connected
with the history of this castle and its possessors, should be mentioned
what Mr Brewer properly calls “a lamentable instance of the ferocity
with which quarrels of party rivalry were conducted in ages during which
the internal polity of Ireland was injuriously neglected by the supreme
head of government:--On Whitsun-eve, in the year 1329, as is recorded by
Ware, John de Birmingham, Earl of Louth, Richard Talbot, styled Lord of
Malahide, and many of their kindred, together with sixty of their English
followers, were slain in a pitched battle at Balbriggan [Ballybragan] in
this neighbourhood, by the Anglo-Norman faction of the De Verdons, De
Gernons, and Savages: the cause of animosity being the election of the
earl to the palatinate dignity of Louth, the county of the latter party.”
At a later period the Talbots of Malahide had a narrow escape from a
calamity nearly as bad as death itself--the total loss of their rank
and possessions. Involved of necessity by their political and religious
principles in the troubles of the middle of the seventeenth century,
they could hardly have escaped the persecution of the party assuming
government in the name of the parliament. John Talbot of Malahide having
been indicted and outlawed for acting in the Irish rebellion, his castle,
with five hundred acres of arable land, was granted by lease, dated 21st
December 1653, for seven years, to the regicide Miles Corbet, who resided
here for several years after, till, being himself outlawed in turn at
the period of the Restoration, he took shipping from its port for the
continent. More fortunate, however, than the representatives of most
other families implicated in the events of this unhappy period, Mr Talbot
was by the act of explanation in 1665 restored to all his lands and
estates in the county of Dublin, as he had held the same in 1641, only
subject to quit rents. It is said that during the occupation of Malahide
by Corbet it became for a short time the abode of Cromwell himself; but
this statement, we believe, only rests on popular tradition--a chronicler
which has been too fond of making similar statements respecting Irish
castles generally, to merit attention and belief.
Our limits will not permit us on the present occasion to enter on any
description of the picturesque ruins of the ancient chapel and tombs
situated within the demesne, and immediately adjacent to the castle; and
we shall only add in conclusion, that the grounds of the demesne, though
of limited | 300.34571 |
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The Cambridge Manuals of Science and Literature
THE COMING OF EVOLUTION
Cambridge University Press
London: Fetter Lane, E.C.
C. F. Clay, Manager
[Illustration]
Edinburgh: 100, Princes Street
London: H. K. Lewis, 136, Gower Street, W.C.
Berlin: A. Asher and Co.
Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus
New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons
Bombay and Calcutta: Macmillan and Co., Ltd.
All rights reserved
[Illustration: Charles Darwin]
THE COMING OF EVOLUTION
The Story of a Great Revolution in Science
by
JOHN W. JUDD
C.B., LL.D., F.R.S.
Formerly Professor of Geology and
Dean of the Royal College of Science
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1910
Cambridge:
Printed by John Clay, M.A.
At the University Press
_With the exception of the coat of arms at the foot, the design
on the title page is a reproduction of one used by the earliest
known Cambridge printer, John Siberch, 1521_
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. Introductory 1
II. Origin of the Idea of Evolution 5
III. The Development of the Idea of Evolution to the
Inorganic World 14
IV. The Triumph of Catastrophism over Evolution 20
V. The Revolt of Scrope and Lyell against Catastrophism 33
VI. _The Principles of Geology_ 55
VII. The Influence of Lyell's Works 68
VIII. Early Attempts to establish the Doctrine of Evolution
for the Organic World 82
IX. Darwin and Wallace: The Theory of Natural Selection 95
X. _The Origin of Species_ 115
XI. The Influence of Darwin's Works 136
XII. The Place of Lyell and Darwin in History 149
Notes 160
Index 165
PLATES
Charles Darwin _Frontispiece_
G. Poulett Scrope _to face p. 35_
Charles Lyell " " 41
Alfred R. Wallace " " 110
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
When the history of the Nineteenth Century--'the Wonderful Century,' as
it has, not inaptly, been called--comes to be written, a foremost place
must be assigned to that great movement by which evolution has become
the dominant factor in scientific progress, while its influence has been
felt in every sphere of human speculation and effort. At the beginning
of the Century, the few who ventured to entertain evolutionary ideas
were regarded by their scientific contemporaries, as wild visionaries or
harmless 'cranks'--by the world at large, as ignorant 'quacks' or
'designing atheists.' At the end of the Century, evolution had not only
become the guiding principle of naturalists, but had profoundly
influenced every branch of physical science; at the same time,
suggesting new trains of thought and permeating the language of
philologists, historians, sociologists, politicians--and even of
theologians.
How has this revolution in thought--the greatest which has occurred in
modern times--been brought about? What manner of men were they who were
the leaders in this great movement? What the influences that led them to
discard the old views and adopt new ones? And, under what circumstances
were they able to produce the works which so profoundly affected the
opinions of the day? These are the questions with which I propose to
deal in the following pages.
It has been my own rare good fortune to have enjoyed the friendship of
all the great leaders in this important movement--of Huxley, Hooker,
Scrope, Wallace, Lyell and Darwin--and, with some of them, I was long on
terms of affectionate intimacy. From their own lips I have learned of
incidents, and listened to anecdotes, bearing on the events of a
memorable past. Would that I could hope to bring before my readers, in
all their nobility, a vivid picture of the characteristics of the men to
whom science and the world owe so much!
For it is not only by their intellectual greatness that we are
impressed. Every man of science is proud, and justly proud, of the
grandeur of character, the unexampled generosity, the modesty and
simplicity which distinguished these pioneers in a great cause. It is
unfortunately true, that the votaries of science--like the cultivators
of art and literature--have sometimes so far forgotten their high
vocation, as to have been more careful about the priority of their
personal claims than of the purity of their own motives--they have
sometimes, it must be sadly admitted, allowed self-interest to obscure
the interests of science. But in the story we have to relate there are
no'regrettable incidents' to be deplored; never has there occurred any
event that marred the harmony in this band of fellow-workers, striving
towards a great ideal. So noble, indeed, was the great central
figure--Charles Darwin--that his senior Lyell and all his juniors were
bound to him by the strongest ties of admiration, respect and affection;
while he, in his graceful modesty, thought more of them than of himself,
of the results of their labours rather than of his own great
achievement.
It is not, as sometimes suggested, the striking out of new ideas which
is of the greatest importance in the history of science, but rather the
accumulation of observations and experiments, the reasonings based upon
these, and the writings in which facts and reasonings are presented to
the world--by which a merely suggestive hypothesis becomes a vivifying
theory--that really count in making history.
Talking with Matthew Arnold in 1871, he laughingly remarked to me 'I
cannot understand why you scientific people make such a fuss about
Darwin. Why it's all in Lucretius!' On my replying, 'Yes! Lucretius
guessed what Darwin proved,' he mischievously rejoined 'Ah! that only
shows how much greater Lucretius really was,--for he divined a truth,
which Darwin spent a life of labour in groping for.'
Mr Alfred Russel Wallace has so well and clearly set forth the essential
difference between the points of view of the cultivators of literature
and science in this matter, that I cannot do better than to quote his
words. They are as follows:--
'I have long since come to see that no one deserves either
praise or blame for the _ideas_ that come to him, but only for
the _actions_ resulting therefrom. Ideas and beliefs are
certainly not voluntary acts. They come to us--we hardly know
_how_ or _whence_, and once they have got possession of us we
cannot reject them or change them at will. It is for the common
good that the promulgation of ideas should be free--uninfluenced
by either praise or blame, reward or punishment.'
'But the _actions_ which result from our ideas may properly be
so treated, because it is only by patient thought and work that
new ideas, if good and true, become adopted and utilized; while,
if untrue or if not adequately presented to the world, they are
rejected or forgotten[1].'[A]
_Ideas_ of Evolution, both in the Organic and the Inorganic world,
existed but remained barren for thousands of years. Yet by the labours
of a band of workers in last century, these ideas, which were but the
dreams of poets and the guesses of philosophers, came to be the accepted
creed of working naturalists, while they have profoundly affected
thought and language in every branch of human enterprise.
[A] For References see the end of the volume.
CHAPTER II
ORIGIN OF THE IDEA OF EVOLUTION
In all ages, and in all parts of the world, we find that primitive man
has delighted in speculating on the birth of the world in which he
lives, on the origin of the living things that surround him, and
especially on the beginnings of the race of beings to which he himself
belongs. In a recent very interesting essay[2], the author of _The
Golden Bough_ has collected, from the records of tradition, history and
travel, a valuable mass of evidence concerning the legends which have
grown out of these speculations. Myths of this kind would appear to fall
into two categories, each of which may not improbably be associated with
the different pursuits followed by the uncivilised races of mankind.
Tillers of the soil, impressed as they must have been by the great
annual miracle of the outburst of vegetable life as spring returns,
naturally adopted one of these lines of speculation. From the dead,
bare ground they witnessed the upspringing of all the wondrous beauty of
the plant-world, and, in their ignorance of the chemistry of vegetable
life, they imagined that the herbs, shrubs and trees are all alike built
up out of the materials contained in the soil from which they grow. The
recognition of the fact that animals feed on plants, or on one another,
led to the obvious conclusion that the _ultimate_ materials of animal,
as well as of vegetable, structures were to be sought for in the soil.
And this view was confirmed by the fact that, when life ceases in plants
or animals, all alike are reduced to 'dust' and again become a part of
the soil--returning 'earth to earth.' In groping therefore for an
explanation of the origin of living things, what could be more natural
than the supposition that the first plants and animals--like those now
surrounding us--were made and fashioned from the soil, dust or
earth--all had been 'clay in the hands of a potter.' The widely diffused
notion that man himself must have been moulded out of _red_ clay is
probably accounted for by the colour of our internal organs.
Thus originated a large class of legendary stories, many of them of a
very grotesque character. Even in many mediaeval sculptures, in this
country and on the continent, the Deity is represented as moulding with
his hands the semblance of a human figure out of a shapeless lump of
clay.
But among the primitive hunters and herdsmen a very different line of
speculation appears to have originated, for by their occupations they
were continually brought into contact with an entirely different class
of phenomena. They could not but notice that the creatures which they
hunted or tended, and slew, presented marked resemblances to
themselves--in their structures, their functions, their diseases, their
dispositions, and their habits. When dogs and horses became the servants
and companions of men, and when various beasts and birds came to be kept
as pets, the mental and even the moral processes characterising the
intelligence of these animals must have been seen by their masters to be
identical in kind with those of their own minds. Do we not even at the
present day compare human characteristics with those of animals, the
courage of the lion, the cunning of the fox, the fidelity of the dog,
and the parental affection of the bird? And the men, who depended for
their very existence on studying the ways of various animals, could not
have been less impressed by these qualities than are we.
Mr Frazer has shown how, from such considerations, the legends
concerning the relations of certain tribes of men with particular
species of animals have arisen, and thus the cults of'sacred animals'
and of 'totemism' have been gradually developed. From comparisons of
human courage, sagacity, swiftness, strength or perseverance, with
similar qualities displayed by certain animals, it was an easy
transition to the idea that such characteristics were derived by
inheritance.
In the absence of any exact knowledge of anatomy and physiology, the
resemblances of animals to themselves would quite outbulk the
differences in the eyes of primitive men, and the idea of close
relationship in blood does not appear to have been regarded with
distaste. In their origin and in their destiny, no distinction was drawn
between man and what we now designate as the 'lower' animals. Primitive
man not only feels no repugnance to such kinship:--
'But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall hear him company[3].'
It should perhaps be remembered, too, that, in the breeding of domestic
animals, the great facts of heredity and variation could not fail to
have been noticed, and must have given rise to reflection and
speculation. The selection of the best animals for breeding purposes,
and the consequent improvement of their stock, may well have suggested
the transmutation of one kind of animal into a different kind, just as
the crossing of different kinds of animals seems to have suggested the
possible existence of centaurs, griffins and other monstrous forms.
How early the principles of variation and heredity, and even the
possibility of improving breeds by selection, must have been appreciated
by early men is illustrated by the old story of the way in which the
wily Jacob made an attempt--however futile were the means he adopted--to
cheat his employer Laban[4].
Yet, in spite of observed tendencies to variation among animals and
plants, early man must have been convinced of the existence of distinct
kinds ('species') in both the vegetable and animal worlds; he recognised
that plants of definite kinds yielded particular fruits, and that
different kinds of animals did not breed promiscuously with one another,
but that, pairing each with its own kind, all gave rise to like
offspring, and thus arose the idea of distinct'species' of plants and
animals.
It must be remembered, however, that for a long time 'the world' was
believed to be limited to a few districts surrounding the Eastern
Mediterranean, and the kinds or'species' of animals and plants were
supposed to number a few scores or at most hundreds. This being the
case, the sudden stocking of 'the world' with its complement of animals
and plants would be thought a comparatively simple operation, and the
violent destruction of the whole a scarcely serious result. Even the
possibility of the preservation of pairs of all the different species,
in a ship of moderate dimensions, was one that was easily entertained
and was not calculated to awaken either surprise or incredulity.
But how different is the problem as it now presents itself to us! In the
year 1900 Professor S. H. Vines of Oxford estimated that the number of
'species' of plants that have been described could be little short of
200,000, and that future studies, especially of the lower microscopic
forms, would probably bring that number up to 300,000[5]. Last year, Mr
A. E. Shipley of Cambridge, basing his estimate on the earlier one of Dr
Guenther, came to the conclusion that the number of described animals
must also exceed 300,000[6]. On the lowest estimate then we must place
the number of known species of plants and animals, living on the globe,
as 600,000! And if we consider the numbers of new forms of plants and
animals that every year are being described by naturalists--about 1500
plants and 1200 animals--if we take into account the inaccessible or as
yet unvisited portions of the earth's surface, the very imperfectly
known depths of the sea, and, in addition to these, the almost infinite
varieties of minute and microscopic forms, I think every competent judge
would consider _a million_ as being probably an estimate below, rather
than above, the number of'species' now existing on the earth!
While some of these species are very widely distributed over the earth's
surface, or in the waters of the oceans, seas, lakes and rivers, there
are others which are as strikingly limited in their range. Many of the
myriad forms of insect-life pass their whole existence, and are
dependent for food, on a particular species of plant. Not a few animals
and plants are parasitical, and can only live in the interior or on the
outside of other plants and animals.
It will be seen from these considerations that in attempting to decide
between the two hypotheses of the _origin_ of species--the only ones
ever suggested--namely the fashioning of them out of dead matter, or
their descent with modification from pre-existing forms, we are dealing
with a problem of much greater complexity than could possibly have been
imagined by the early speculators on the subject.
The two strongly contrasted hypotheses to which we have referred are
often spoken of as 'creation' and 'evolution.' But this is an altogether
illegitimate use of these terms. By _whatever method_ species of plants
or animals come into existence, they may be rightly said to be
'created.' We speak of the existing plants and animals as having been
created, although we well know them to have been 'evolved' from seeds,
eggs and other 'germs'--and indeed from those excessively minute and
simple structures known as 'cells.' Lyell and Darwin, as we shall
presently see, though they were firmly convinced that species of plants
and animals were slowly developed and not suddenly manufactured, wrote
constantly and correctly of the 'creation' of new forms of life.
The idea of 'descent with modification,' derived from the early
speculations of hunters and herdsmen, is really a much nobler and more
beautiful conception of 'creation' than that of the 'fashioning out of
clay,' which commended itself to the primitive agriculturalists.
Lyell writing to his friend John Herschel, who like himself believed in
the derivation of new species from pre-existing ones by the action of
secondary causes, wrote in 1836:--
When I first came to the notion,... of a succession of
extinction of species, and creation of new ones, going on
perpetually now, and through an indefinite period of the past,
and to continue for ages to come, all in accommodation to the
changes which must continue in the inanimate and habitable
earth, the idea struck me as the grandest which I had ever
conceived, so far as regards the attributes of the Presiding
Mind[7].'
And Darwin concludes his presentment of the doctrine of evolution in the
_Origin of Species_ in 1859 with the following sentence:--
'There is a grandeur in this view of life, with its several
powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a
few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone
cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple
a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have
been, and are being, evolved[8].'
Compare with these suggestions the ideas embodied in the following
lines--ideas of which the crudeness cannot be concealed by all the
witchery of Milton's immortal verse:--
'The Earth obey'd, and straight,
Op'ning her fertile womb, teem'd at a birth
Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms,
Limb'd and full grown. Out of the ground up rose
As from his lair, the wild beast, where he wons
In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den;
Among the trees they rose, they walk'd;
The cattle in the fields and meadows green:
Those rare and solitary, these in flocks
Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung.
The grassy clods now calv'd; now half appear'd
The tawny lion, pawing to get free
His hinder parts, then springs, as broke from bonds,
And rampant shakes his brinded mane[9].'
Can anyone doubt for a moment which is the grander view of
'Creation'--that embodied in Darwin's prose, or the one so strikingly
pictured in Milton's poetry?
We see then that the two ideas of the method of creation, dimly
perceived by early man, have at last found clear and definite expression
from these two authors--Milton and Darwin. It is a singular coincidence
that these two great exponents of the rival hypotheses were both
students in the same University of Cambridge and indeed resided in the
same foundation--and that not one of the largest of that
University--namely Christ's College.
CHAPTER III
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE IDEA OF EVOLUTION TO THE INORGANIC WORLD
We have seen in the preceding chapter that, with respect to the origin
of plants and animals--including man himself--two very distinct lines of
speculation have arisen; these two lines of thought may be expressed by
the terms'manufacture'--literally making by hand, and 'development' or
'evolution,'--a gradual unfolding from simpler to more complex forms.
Now with respect to the _inorganic_ world two parallel hypotheses of
'creation' have arisen, like those relating to _organic_ nature; but in
the former case the determining factor in the choice of ideas has been,
not the avocations of the primitive peoples, but the nature of their
surroundings.
The dwellers in the valleys of the Euphrates and Tigris could not but be
impressed by the great and destructive floods to which those regions
were subject; and the inhabitants of the shores and islands of the
Aegean Sea, and of the Italian peninsula, were equally conversant with
the devastations wrought by volcanic outbursts and earthquake shocks. As
great districts were seen to be depopulated by these catastrophies,
might not some even more violent cataclysm of the same kind actually
destroy all mankind, with the animals and plants, in the comparatively
small area then known as 'the world'? The great flood, of which all
these nations appear to have retained traditions, was regarded as only
the last of such destructive cataclysms; and, in this way, there
originated the myth of successive destructions of the face of the earth,
each followed by the creation of new stocks of plants and animals. This
is the doctrine now known as 'Catastrophism,' which we find prevalent in
the earliest traditions and writings of India, Babylonia, Syria and
Greece.
But in ancient Egypt quite another class of phenomena was conspicuously
presented to the early philosophers of the country. Instead of sudden
floods and terrible displays of volcanic and earthquake violence, they
witnessed the annual gentle rise and overflowings of their grand river,
with its beneficent heritage of new soil; and they soon learned to
recognise that Egypt itself--so far as the delta was concerned--was 'the
gift of the Nile.'
From the contemplation of these phenomena, the Egyptian sages were
gradually led to entertain the idea that all the features of the
earth--as they knew it--might have been similarly produced through the
slow and constant action of the causes now seen in operation around
them. This idea was incorporated in a myth, which was suggested by the
slow and gradual transformation of an egg into a perfect, growing
organism. The birth of the world was pictured as an act of incubation,
and male and female deities were invented to play the part of parents to
the infant world. By Pythagoras, who resided for more than twenty years
in Egypt, these ideas were introduced to the Greek philosophers, and
from that time 'Catastrophism' found a rival in the new doctrine which
we shall see has been designated under the names of 'Continuity,'
'Uniformitarianism' or 'Evolution.' How, from the first crude notions of
evolution, successive thinkers developed more just and noble conceptions
on the subject, has been admirably shown by Professor Osborn in his
_From the Greeks to Darwin_ and by Mr Clodd in his _Pioneers of
Evolution_.
Poets, from Empedocles and Lucretius to Goethe and Tennyson, have sought
in their verses to illustrate the beauty of evolutionary ideas; and
philosophers, from Aristotle and Strabo to Kant and Herbert Spencer,
have recognised the principle of evolution as harmonising with, and
growing out of, the highest conceptions of science. Yet it was not till
the Nineteenth Century that any serious attempts were made to establish
the hypothesis of evolution as a definite theory, based on sound
reasoning from careful observation.
It is true that there were men, in advance of their age, who in some
cases anticipated to a certain extent this work of establishing the
doctrine of evolution on a firm foundation. Thus in Italy, the earliest
home of so many sciences, a Carmelite friar, Generelli, reasoning on
observations made by his compatriots Fracastoro and Leonardo da Vinci in
the Sixteenth Century, Steno and Scilla in the Seventeenth, and Lazzaro
Moro and Marsilli in the Eighteenth Century, laid the foundations of a
rational system of geology in a work published in 1749 which was
characterised alike by courage and eloquence. In France, the illustrious
Nicolas Desmarest, from his study of the classical region of the
Auvergne, was able to show, in 1777, how the river valleys of that
district had been carved out by the rivers that flow in them. Nor were
there wanting geologists with similar previsions in Germany and
Switzerland.
But none of these early exponents of geological theory came so near to
anticipating the work of the Nineteenth Century as did the illustrious
James Hutton, whose 'Theory of the Earth,' a first sketch of which was
published in 1785, was a splendid exposition of evolution as applied to
the inorganic world. Unfortunately, Hutton's theory was linked to the
extravagancies of what was known at that day as 'Vulcanism' or
'Plutonism,' in contradistinction to the 'Neptunism' of Werner. Hutton,
while rejecting the Wernerian notion of "the aqueous precipitation of
basalt," maintained the equally fanciful idea that the consolidation of
all strata--clays, sandstones, conglomerates, limestones and even
rock-salt--must be ascribed to the action of heat, and that even the
formation of chalk-flints and the silicification of fossil wood were due
to the injection of molten silica!
What was still more unfortunate in Hutton's case was that, in his
enthusiasm, he used expressions which led to his being charged with
heresy and even with being an enemy of religion. His writings were
further so obscure in style as often to lead to misconception as to
their true meaning, while his great work--so far as the fragment which
was published goes--contained few records of original observations on
which his theory was based.
Dr Fitton has pointed out very striking coincidences between the
writings of Generelli and those of Hutton, and has suggested that the
latter may have derived his views from the eloquent Italian friar[10].
But for this suggestion, I think that there is no real foundation.
Darwin and Wallace, as we shall see later, were quite unconscious of
their having been forestalled in the theory of Natural Selection by Dr
Wells and Patrick Matthew; and Hutton, like his successor Lyell, in all
probability arrived, quite independently, and by different lines of
reasoning, at conclusions identical with those of Generelli and
Desmarest.
Although, as we shall see, Hutton failed to greatly influence the
scientific thought of his day, yet all will now agree with Lyell that
'Hutton laboured to give fixed principles to geology, as Newton had
succeeded in doing to astronomy[11]'; and with Zittel that '_Hutton's
Theory of the Earth_ is one of the masterpieces in the history of
geology[12].'
CHAPTER IV
THE TRIUMPH OF CATASTROPHISM OVER EVOLUTION
There is no fact in the history of science which is more certain than
that those great pioneers of Evolution in the Inorganic
world--Generelli, Desmarest and Hutton--utterly failed to recommend
their doctrines to general acceptance; and that, at the beginning of
last century, everything in the nature of evolutionary ideas was almost
universally discredited--alike by men of science and the world at large.
The causes of the neglect and opprobrium which befel all evolutionary
teachings are not difficult to discover. The old Greek philosophers saw
no more reason to doubt the possibility of creation by evolution, than
by direct mechanical means. But, on the revival of learning in Europe,
evolution was at once confronted by the cosmogonies of Jewish and
Arabian writers, which were incorporated in sacred books; and not only
were the ideas of the sudden making and destruction of the world and all
things in it regarded as revealed truth, but the periods of time
necessary for evolution could not be admitted by those who believed the
beginning of the world to have been recent, and its end to be imminent.
Thus 'Catastrophic' ideas came to be regarded as _orthodox_, and
evolutionary ones as utterly irreligious and damnable.
There are few more curious facts in the history of science than the
contrast between the reception of the teaching of the Saxon professor
Werner, and those of Hutton, the Scotch philosopher, his great rival.
While the enthusiastic disciples of the former carried their master's
ideas everywhere, acting with missionary zeal and fervour, and teaching
his doctrines almost as though they were a divine revelation, the
latter, surrounded by a few devoted friends, saw his teachings
everywhere received with persistent misrepresentation, theological
vituperation or contemptuous neglect. Even in Edinburgh itself, one of
Werner's pupils dominated the teaching of the University for half a
century, and established a society for the propagation of the views
which Hutton so strongly opposed.
When it is remembered that Hutton wrote at a time when 'heresy-hunting'
in this country had been excited to such a dangerous extent, through the
excesses of the French Revolution, that his contemporary, Priestley, had
been hounded from his home and country for proclaiming views which at
that time were regarded as unscriptural, it becomes less difficult to
understand the prejudice that was excited against the gentle and modest
philosopher of Edinburgh.
We have employed the term 'Catastrophism' to indicate the views which
were prevalent at the beginning of last century concerning the origin of
the rock-masses of the globe and their fossil contents. These views were
that at a number of successive epochs--of which the age of Noah was the
latest--great revolutions had taken place on the earth's surface; that
during each of these cataclysms all living things were destroyed; and
that, after an interval, the world was restocked with fresh assemblages
of plants and animals, to be destroyed in turn and entombed in the
strata at the next revolution.
Whewell, in 1830, contrasted this teaching with that of Hutton and Lyell
in the following passage:--'These two opinions will probably for some
time divide the geological world into two sects, which may perhaps be
designated the "Uniformitarians" and the "Catastrophists." The latter
has undoubtedly been of late the prevalent doctrine.' It is interesting
to note, as showing the confidence felt in their tenets by the
'Catastrophists' of that day, that Whewell adds 'We conceive that Mr
Lyell will find it a harder task than he imagines to overturn the
established belief[13]!'
Some authors have suggested that the doctrine taught by Generelli,
Desmarest and Hutton, and later by Scrope and Lyell, for which Whewell
proposed the somewhat cumbrous term 'Uniformitarianism,' but which was
perhaps better designated by Grove in 1866 as 'Continuity[14],' was
distinct from, and subsidiary to, Evolution--and this view could claim
for a time the support of a very great authority.
In 1869, Huxley delivered an address to the Geological Society, in which
he postulated the existence of 'three more or less contradictory systems
of geological thought,' under the names of 'Catastrophism,'
'Uniformitarianism' and 'Evolution.' In this essay, distinguished by all
his wonderful lucidity and forceful logic, Huxley sought to establish
the position that evolution is a doctrine, distinct from and _in advance
of_ that of uniformitarianism, and that Hutton and Playfair--'and to a
less extent Lyell'--had acted unwisely in deprecating the extension of
Geology into enquiries concerning 'the beginning of things[15].'
But there is no doubt that Huxley at a later period was led to qualify,
and indeed to largely modify, the views maintained in that address. In a
footnote to an essay written in April 1887, he asserts 'What I mean by
"evolutionism" is consistent and thoroughgoing uniformitarianism'; and
in the same year he wrote in his _Reception of the Origin of
Species_[16]: 'Consistent uniformitarianism postulates evolution, as
much in the organic as in the inorganic world[17].'
It is not difficult to trace the causes of this change in the attitude
of mind with which Huxley regarded the | 300.447001 |
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Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
Transcriber's Note:
1. Page scan source:
http://books.google.com/books?id=PWUTAAAAYAAJ&dq
Regina
or
The Sins of the Fathers
REGINA
OR THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
BY
HERMANN SUDERMANN
_TRANSLATED BY_
_BEATRICE MARSHALL_
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMVII
COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY
John Lane.
* * *
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
John Lane Company.
REGINA
OR THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
CHAPTER I
Peace was signed, and the world, which for so long had been the great
Corsican's plaything, came to itself again. It came to itself, bruised
and mangled, bleeding from a thousand wounds, and studded with
battle-fields like a body with festering sores. Yet, in the rebound
from bondage to freedom, men did not realise that there was anything
very pitiable in their condition. The ground from which their wheat
sprang, they reflected, would bear all the richer fruit from being
soaked in blood, and if bullets and bayonets had thinned their ranks,
there was now more elbow-room for those who were left.
The yawning vacuums in the seething human caldron gave a man space to
breathe in. One great chorus of rejoicing from the Rock of Gibraltar to
the North Cape ascended heavenwards. Bells in every steeple were set in
motion, and from every altar and from every humble hearth arose prayers
of thanksgiving. Mourners hid their diminished heads, for the burst of
victorious song drowned their lamentations, and the earth absorbed
their tears as indifferently as it had sucked in the blood of their
fallen.
In glorious May weather the Peace of Paris was concluded. Lilies
bloomed once more out of lakes of blood, and from the obscurity of
lumber-rooms the blood-saturated banner of the _fleur de lys_ was
dragged forth into the light of day. The Bourbons crept from their
hiding-places, whither they had been driven by fear of Robespierre's
knife. They rubbed their eyes and forthwith began to reign. They had
forgotten nothing and learnt nothing, except a new catchword from
Talleyrand's _en tout cas_ vocabulary, _i.e_. Legitimacy. The rest of
the world was too busily engaged in wreathing laurels to crown the
conquerors, and filling up bumpers to drink their health in, to pay any
attention to this farce of Bourbon government. All eyes were turned in
a fever of expectancy towards the West, whence were to come the
conquering heroes, the laurel-crowned warriors who had been willing to
sacrifice their lives for the honour of wife and child, for justice,
and for the sacred soil of their fatherland. They had been under the
fire of the Corsican Demon, the oppressor whom they in their turn had
hunted and run to earth, till at last he lay in shackles at their feet.
When the victors began the homeward march, the German oaks were
bursting into leaf, soon to be laughingly plundered of their young
green foliage. On they came in swarms, first, joyous and lighthearted,
the pride and flower of the Fatherland, the sons of the wealthy, who,
as Volunteer Jaegers, with their own horses and their own arms, had gone
forth to the war of Liberation. Their progress through Germany was one
magnificent ovation. Wherever they came, their path was strewn with
roses, the most beautiful of maidens longed for the honour of winning
their love, and the most costly wines flowed like water. Behind them
followed a stream of Kossacks, riding over the German fields with a
loose rein. A year before, when they had galloped like a troop of
furies in the rear of the hunted remnant of the Grande Armee, the whole
country had greeted them as saviours of Germany. Public receptions had
been organised in their honour, hymns composed in their praise, and all
sorts of blue-eyed German sentiment was lavishly poured out on the
unwashed Tartar horde. To-day, too, they were conscientiously feted,
but the gaze of all true-hearted Germans was directed with intensest
longing beyond them, looking for those who were still to come, of whom
they seemed but the heralding shadows.
And at last these came, the men of the people, who had taken all their
capital, their bare lives, in their hand, and gone forth to offer it up
for the Fatherland. They advanced with a sound as of bursting trumpets,
half hidden by dense columns of dust. Not exalted and splendid
beings as they had often been painted in the imagination of the
"stay-at-homes," with a halo of diamonds flashing round their heads,
and a cloak flung proudly like a toga round their shoulders. No; they
were faded and haggard, tired as overdriven horses, covered with
vermin, filthy and in rags; their beards matted with sweat and dust.
This was the plight in which they came home. Some were so emaciated and
ghastly pale that they looked as if they could hardly drag one weary
foot after the other; others wore a greedy, brutalised expression, and
the reflection of the lurid glare of war seemed yet to linger in their
sunken, hollow eyes. They held their knotty fists still clenched in the
habitual cramp of murderous lust. Only here and there | 300.548046 |
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Produced by Rosanna Murphy, sp1nd and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Notes: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
_The Early History of the Scottish Union Question_
SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE FIRST EDITION.
"With considerable literary skill he has compressed into a brief compass
a most readable and impartial account of the efforts which from the time
of Edward I. went on to weld the two countries into one."--_Edinburgh
Evening News._
"Mr. Omond tells his story brightly and with full
knowledge."--_Manchester Guardian._
"A genuine contribution to British history."--_Dumfries Courier._
"There is much to interest and inform in this volume."--_Liverpool
Mercury._
"The conciseness of the sketch, instead of detracting from the worth of
the work, rather enables the author to give a more vivid description of
the course and progress of events."--_Dundee Advertiser._
"Mr. Omond has laid students of British history under a debt of
gratitude to him for his work on the Scottish Union question."--_Leeds
Mercury._
"Mr. Omond is at home in the struggles which led up to the act of Union
in 1707."--_British Weekly._
"His book, modest and unpretentious as it is, is a careful contribution
to the study of one of the most important features of the history of the
two kingdoms, since 1707 united as Great Britain."--_Liverpool Daily
Post._
"A handy summary of the history of such international relations, written
with an orderly method and much clearness and good sense."--_The
Academy._
"A handy, well-written volume."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
"A very interesting, as well as very instructive book."--_Literary
World._
[Illustration: JOHN HAMILTON, LORD BELHAVEN.]
_The Early History
of the
Scottish Union Question_
_By
G. | 300.645669 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.6257030 | 3,026 | 11 |
Produced by Charles Keller
A HISTORY OF SCIENCE
BY HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS, M.D., LL.D.
ASSISTED BY EDWARD H. WILLIAMS, M.D.
IN FIVE VOLUMES
VOLUME II.
CONTENTS
BOOK II
CHAPTER I. SCIENCE IN THE DARK AGE
CHAPTER II. MEDIAEVAL SCIENCE AMONG THE ARABIANS
CHAPTER III. MEDIAEVAL SCIENCE IN THE WEST
CHAPTER IV. THE NEW COSMOLOGY--COPERNICUS TO KEPLER AND GALILEO
CHAPTER V. GALILEO AND THE NEW PHYSICS
CHAPTER VI. TWO PSEUDO-SCIENCES--ALCHEMY AND ASTROLOGY
CHAPTER VII. FROM PARACELSUS TO HARVEY
CHAPTER VIII. MEDICINE IN THE SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES
CHAPTER IX. PHILOSOPHER-SCIENTISTS AND NEW INSTITUTIONS OF
LEARNING
CHAPTER X. THE SUCCESSORS OF GALILEO IN PHYSICAL SCIENCE
CHAPTER XI. NEWTON AND THE COMPOSITION OF LIGHT
CHAPTER XII. NEWTON AND THE LAW OF GRAVITATION
CHAPTER XIII. INSTRUMENTS OF PRECISION IN THE AGE OF NEWTON
CHAPTER XIV. PROGRESS IN ELECTRICITY FROM GILBERT AND VON
GUERICKE TO FRANKLIN
CHAPTER XV. NATURAL HISTORY TO THE TIME OF LINNAEUS
APPENDIX
A HISTORY OF SCIENCE
BOOK II. THE BEGINNINGS OF MODERN SCIENCE
The studies of the present book cover the progress of science from the
close of the Roman period in the fifth century A.D. to about the middle
of the eighteenth century. In tracing the course of events through so
long a period, a difficulty becomes prominent which everywhere besets
the historian in less degree--a difficulty due to the conflict between
the strictly chronological and the topical method of treatment. We must
hold as closely as possible to the actual sequence of events, since,
as already pointed out, one discovery leads on to another. But, on the
other hand, progressive steps are taken contemporaneously in the various
fields of science, and if we were to attempt to introduce these
in strict chronological order we should lose all sense of topical
continuity.
Our method has been to adopt a compromise, following the course of a
single science in each great epoch to a convenient stopping-point, and
then turning back to bring forward the story of another science. Thus,
for example, we tell the story of Copernicus and Galileo, bringing the
record of cosmical and mechanical progress down to about the middle
of the seventeenth century, before turning back to take up the
physiological progress of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Once
the latter stream is entered, however, we follow it without interruption
to the time of Harvey and his contemporaries in the middle of the
seventeenth century, where we leave it to return to the field of
mechanics as exploited by the successors of Galileo, who were also the
predecessors and contemporaries of Newton.
In general, it will aid the reader to recall that, so far as
possible, we hold always to the same sequences of topical treatment of
contemporary events; as a rule we treat first the cosmical, then the
physical, then the biological sciences. The same order of treatment will
be held to in succeeding volumes.
Several of the very greatest of scientific generalizations are developed
in the period covered by the present book: for example, the Copernican
theory of the solar system, the true doctrine of planetary motions,
the laws of motion, the theory of the circulation of the blood, and the
Newtonian theory of gravitation. The labors of the investigators of the
early decades of the eighteenth century, terminating with Franklin's
discovery of the nature of lightning and with the Linnaean
classification of plants and animals, bring us to the close of our
second great epoch; or, to put it otherwise, to the threshold of the
modern period.
I. SCIENCE IN THE DARK AGE
An obvious distinction between the classical and mediaeval epochs may be
found in the fact that the former produced, whereas the latter failed
to produce, a few great thinkers in each generation who were imbued with
that scepticism which is the foundation of the investigating spirit; who
thought for themselves and supplied more or less rational explanations
of observed phenomena. Could we eliminate the work of some score or so
of classical observers and thinkers, the classical epoch would seem as
much a dark age as does the epoch that succeeded it.
But immediately we are met with the question: Why do no great original
investigators appear during all these later centuries? We have already
offered a part explanation in the fact that the borders of civilization,
where racial mingling naturally took place, were peopled with
semi-barbarians. But we must not forget that in the centres of
civilization all along there were many men of powerful intellect.
Indeed, it would violate the principle of historical continuity to
suppose that there was any sudden change in the level of mentality of
the Roman world at the close of the classical period. We must assume,
then, that the direction in which the great minds turned was for
some reason changed. Newton is said to have alleged that he made his
discoveries by "intending" his mind in a certain direction continuously.
It is probable that the same explanation may be given of almost every
great scientific discovery. Anaxagoras could not have thought out the
theory of the moon's phases; Aristarchus could not have found out
the true mechanism of the solar system; Eratosthenes could not have
developed his plan for measuring the earth, had not each of these
investigators "intended" his mind persistently towards the problems in
question.
Nor can we doubt that men lived in every generation of the dark age
who were capable of creative thought in the field of science, bad they
chosen similarly to "intend" their minds in the right direction. The
difficulty was that they did not so choose. Their minds had a quite
different bent. They were under the spell of different ideals; all
their mental efforts were directed into different channels. What these
different channels were cannot be in doubt--they were the channels of
oriental ecclesiasticism. One all-significant fact speaks volumes here.
It is the fact that, as Professor Robinson(1) points out, from the time
of Boethius (died 524 or 525 A.D.) to that of Dante (1265-1321 A.D.)
there was not a single writer of renown in western Europe who was not a
professional churchman. All the learning of the time, then, centred in
the priesthood. We know that the same condition of things pertained in
Egypt, when science became static there. But, contrariwise, we have
seen that in Greece and early Rome the scientific workers were largely
physicians or professional teachers; there was scarcely a professional
theologian among them.
Similarly, as we shall see in the Arabic world, where alone there was
progress in the mediaeval epoch, the learned men were, for the most
part, physicians. Now the meaning of this must be self-evident. The
physician naturally "intends" his mind towards the practicalities. His
professional studies tend to make him an investigator of the operations
of nature. He is usually a sceptic, with a spontaneous interest in
practical science. But the theologian "intends" his mind away from
practicalities and towards mysticism. He is a professional believer in
the supernatural; he discounts the value of merely "natural" phenomena.
His whole attitude of mind is unscientific; the fundamental tenets
of his faith are based on alleged occurrences which inductive science
cannot admit--namely, miracles. And so the minds "intended" towards
the supernatural achieved only the hazy mysticism of mediaeval thought.
Instead of investigating natural laws, they paid heed (as, for example,
Thomas Aquinas does in his Summa Theologia) to the "acts of angels,"
the "speaking of angels," the "subordination of angels," the "deeds of
guardian angels," and the like. They disputed such important questions
as, How many angels can stand upon the point of a needle? They argued
pro and con as to whether Christ were coeval with God, or whether he had
been merely created "in the beginning," perhaps ages before the creation
of the world. How could it be expected that science should flourish when
the greatest minds of the age could concern themselves with problems
such as these?
Despite our preconceptions or prejudices, there can be but one answer to
that question. Oriental superstition cast its blight upon the fair field
of science, whatever compensation it may or may not have brought in
other fields. But we must be on our guard lest we overestimate or
incorrectly estimate this influence. Posterity, in glancing backward,
is always prone to stamp any given age of the past with one idea, and to
desire to characterize it with a single phrase; whereas in reality all
ages are diversified, and any generalization regarding an epoch is sure
to do that epoch something less or something more than justice. We
may be sure, then, that the ideal of ecclesiasticism is not solely
responsible for the scientific stasis of the dark age. Indeed, there was
another influence of a totally different character that is too patent
to be overlooked--the influence, namely, of the economic condition of
western Europe during this period. As I have elsewhere pointed
out,(2) Italy, the centre of western civilization, was at this time
impoverished, and hence could not provide the monetary stimulus so
essential to artistic and scientific no less than to material progress.
There were no patrons of science and literature such as the Ptolemies of
that elder Alexandrian day. There were no great libraries; no colleges
to supply opportunities and afford stimuli to the rising generation.
Worst of all, it became increasingly difficult to secure books.
This phase of the subject is often overlooked. Yet a moment's
consideration will show its importance. How should we fare to-day if no
new scientific books were being produced, and if the records of former
generations were destroyed? That is what actually happened in
Europe during the Middle Ages. At an earlier day books were made and
distributed much more abundantly than is sometimes supposed. Bookmaking
had, indeed, been an important profession in Rome, the actual makers of
books being slaves who worked under the direction of a publisher. It was
through the efforts of these workers that the classical works in Greek
and Latin were multiplied and disseminated. Unfortunately the climate of
Europe does not conduce to the indefinite preservation of a book;
hence very few remnants of classical works have come down to us in the
original from a remote period. The rare exceptions are certain papyrus
fragments, found in Egypt, some of which are Greek manuscripts dating
from the third century B.C. Even from these sources the output is
meagre; and the only other repository of classical books is a single
room in the buried city of Herculaneum, which contained several hundred
manuscripts, mostly in a charred condition, a considerable number of
which, however, have been unrolled and found more or less legible. This
library in the buried city was chiefly made up of philosophical works,
some of which were quite unknown to the modern world until discovered
there.
But this find, interesting as it was from an archaeological stand-point,
had no very important bearing on our knowledge of the literature of
antiquity. Our chief dependence for our knowledge of that literature
must still be placed in such copies of books as were made in the
successive generations. Comparatively few of the extant manuscripts are
older than the tenth century of our era. It requires but a momentary
consideration of the conditions under which ancient books were produced
to realize how slow and difficult the process was before the invention
of printing. The taste of the book-buying public demanded a clearly
written text, and in the Middle Ages it became customary to produce a
richly ornamented text as well. The script employed being the prototype
of the modern printed text, it will be obvious that a scribe could
produce but a few pages at best in a day. A large work would therefore
require the labor of a scribe for many months or even for several years.
We may assume, then, that it would be a very flourishing publisher who
could produce a hundred volumes all told per annum; and probably there
were not many publishers at any given time, even in the period of Rome's
greatest glory, who had anything like this output.
As there was a large number of authors in every generation of the
classical period, it follows that most of these authors must have been
obliged to content themselves with editions numbering very few copies;
and it goes without saying that the greater number of books were never
reproduced in what might be called a second edition. Even books that
retained their popularity for several generations would presently fail
to arouse sufficient interest to be copied; and in due course such works
would pass out of existence altogether. Doubtless many hundreds of books
were thus lost before the close of the classical period, the names of
their authors being quite forgotten, or preserved only through a chance
reference; and of course the work of elimination went on much more
rapidly during the Middle Ages, when the interest in classical
literature sank to so low an ebb in the West. Such collections of
references and quotations as the Greek Anthology and the famous
anthologies of Stobaeus and Athanasius and Eusebius give us glimpses
of a host of writers--more than seven hundred are quoted by Stobaeus--a
very large proportion of whom are quite unknown except through these
brief excerpts from their lost works.
Quite naturally the scientific works suffered at least as largely as
any others in an | 300.645743 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.7478220 | 390 | 16 |
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
The
Rival Campers Afloat
Or, THE PRIZE YACHT VIKING
By
Ruel Perley Smith
Author of "The Rival Campers"
ILLUSTRATED BY
LOUIS D. GOWING
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
1906
_Copyright_, _1906_
By L. C. Page & Company
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, August, 1906
_COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston. U. S. A._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Down the River 1
II. The Collision 15
III. A Rescue Unrewarded 28
IV. Squire Brackett Discomfited 39
V. Harvey Gets Bad News 56
VI. Out to the Fishing-grounds 73
VII. Near the Reefs 91
VIII. Little Tim a Strategist 108
IX. Harry Brackett Plays a Joke 126
X. Mr. Carleton Arrives 143
XI. Squire Brackett Is Puzzled 160
XII. The Surprise Sets Sail Again 180
XIII. Stormy Weather 192
XIV. The Man in the Cabin 206
XV. Mr. Carleton Goes Away 224
XVI. Searching the Viking 239
XVII | 300.767862 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.9269110 | 2,173 | 27 |
E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Chuck Greif, 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 26146-h.htm or 26146-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/1/4/26146/26146-h/26146-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/1/4/26146/26146-h.zip)
CHARLES FROHMAN: MANAGER AND MAN
by
ISAAC F. MARCOSSON and DANIEL FROHMAN
With an Appreciation by James M. Barrie
Illustrated with Portraits
New York and London
Harper & Brothers
M.C.M.X.V.I
Charles Frohman: Manager and Man
Copyright, 1916, by Harper & Brothers
Copyright, 1915, 1916, by
International Magazine Company (Cosmopolitan Magazine)
Printed in the United States of America
Published October, 1916
_To
The Theater
That Charles Frohman
Loved and Served_
_Nought I did in hate but all in honor!_
HAMLET
Contents
CHARLES FROHMAN: AN APPRECIATION
I. A CHILD AMID THE THEATER
II. EARLY HARDSHIPS ON THE ROAD
III. PICTURESQUE DAYS AS MINSTREL MANAGER
IV. IN THE NEW YORK THEATRICAL WHIRLPOOL
V. BOOKING-AGENT AND BROADWAY PRODUCER
VI. "SHENANDOAH" AND THE FIRST STOCK COMPANY
VII. JOHN DREW AND THE EMPIRE THEATER
VIII. MAUDE ADAMS AS STAR
IX. THE BIRTH OF THE SYNDICATE
X. THE RISE OF ETHEL BARRYMORE
XI. THE CONQUEST OF THE LONDON STAGE
XII. BARRIE AND THE ENGLISH FRIENDSHIPS
XIII. A GALAXY OF STARS
XIV. STAR-MAKING AND AUDIENCES
XV. PLAYS AND PLAYERS
XVI. "C. F." AT REHEARSALS
XVII. HUMOR AND ANECDOTE
XVIII. THE MAN FROHMAN
XIX. "WHY FEAR DEATH?"
APPENDIX A--THE LETTERS OF CHARLES
APPENDIX B--COMPLETE CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE FROHMAN
PRODUCTIONS
Illustrations
CHARLES FROHMAN--Frontispiece
VIOLA ALLEN
WILLIAM GILLETTE
JOHN DREW
CLYDE FITCH
HENRY ARTHUR JONES
W. LESTOCQ
CHARLES DILLINGHAM
MAUDE ADAMS
MAUDE ADAMS
FRANCIS WILSON
WILLIAM COLLIER
MARGARET ANGLIN
ANNIE RUSSELL
WILLIAM FAVERSHAM
HENRY MILLER
WILLIAM H. CRANE
AUGUSTUS THOMAS
SIR ARTHUR WING PINERO
ETHEL BARRYMORE
JULIA MARLOWE
E. H. SOTHERN
ELSIE FERGUSON
EDNA MAY
BILLIE BURKE
PAULINE CHASE
JAMES M. BARRIE
PAUL POTTER
HADDON CHAMBERS
OTIS SKINNER
MARIE DORO
JULIA SANDERSON
ANN MURDOCK
CHARLES FROHMAN AND DAVID BELASCO
MARIE TEMPEST
MME. NAZIMOVA
CHARLES FROHMAN'S OFFICE IN THE EMPIRE THEATER
CHARLES FROHMAN ON BOARD SHIP
Charles Frohman: an Appreciation
By James M. Barrie
The man who never broke his word. There was a great deal more to him,
but every one in any land who has had dealings with Charles Frohman will
sign that.
I would rather say a word of the qualities that to his friends were his
great adornment than about his colossal enterprises or the energy with
which he heaved them into being; his energy that was like a force of
nature, so that if he had ever "retired" from the work he loved (a thing
incredible) companies might have been formed, in the land so skilful at
turning energy to practical account, for exploiting the vitality of this
Niagara of a man. They could have lit a city with it.
He loved his schemes. They were a succession of many- romances to
him, and were issued to the world not without the accompaniment of the
drum, but you would never find him saying anything of himself. He pushed
them in front of him, always taking care that they were big enough to
hide him. When they were able to stand alone he stole out in the dark to
have a look at them, and then if unobserved his bosom swelled. I have
never known any one more modest and no one quite so shy. Many actors
have played for him for years and never spoken to him, have perhaps seen
him dart up a side street because they were approaching. They may not
have known that it was sheer shyness, but it was. I have seen him
ordered out of his own theater by subordinates who did not know him, and
he went cheerfully away. "Good men, these; they know their business,"
was all his comment. Afterward he was shy of going back lest they should
apologize.
At one time he had several theaters here and was renting others, the
while he had I know not how many in America; he was not always sure how
many himself. Latterly the great competition at home left him no time to
look after more than one in London. But only one anywhere seemed a
little absurd to him. He once contemplated having a few theaters in
Paris, but on discovering that French law forbids your having more than
one he gave up the scheme in disgust.
A sense of humor sat with him through every vicissitude like a faithful
consort.
"How is it going?" a French author cabled to him on the first night of a
new play.
"It has gone," he genially cabled back.
Of a Scotch play of my own that he was about to produce in New York, I
asked him what the Scotch would be like.
"You wouldn't know it was Scotch," he replied, "but the American public
will know."
He was very dogged. I had only one quarrel with him, but it lasted all
the sixteen years I knew him. He wanted me to be a playwright and I
wanted to be a novelist. All those years I fought him on that. He always
won, but not because of his doggedness; only because he was so lovable
that one had to do as he wanted. He also threatened, if I stopped, to
reproduce the old plays and print my name in large electric letters over
the entrance of the theater.
* * *
A very distinguished actress under his management wanted to produce a
play of mine of which he had no high opinion. He was in despair, as he
had something much better for her. She was obdurate. He came to me for
help, said nothing could move her unless I could. Would not I tell her
what a bad play it was and how poor her part was and how much better the
other parts were and how absolutely it fell to pieces after the first
act? Of course I did as I was bid, and I argued with the woman for
hours, and finally got her round, the while he sat cross-legged, after
his fashion, on a deep chair and implored me with his eyes to do my
worst. It happened long ago, and I was so obsessed with the desire to
please him that the humor of the situation strikes me only now.
For money he did not care at all; it was to him but pieces of paper with
which he could make practical the enterprises that teemed in his brain.
They were all enterprises of the theater. Having once seen a theater, he
never afterward saw anything else except sites for theaters. This
passion began when he was a poor boy staring wistfully at portals out of
which he was kept by the want of a few pence. I think when he first saw
a theater he clapped his hand to his heart, and certainly he was true
to his first love. Up to the end it was still the same treat to him to
go in; he still thrilled when the band struck up, as if that boy had
hold of his hand.
* * *
In a sense he had no illusions about the theater, knew its tawdriness as
he knew the nails on his stages (he is said to have known every one). He
would watch the performance of a play in some language of which he did
not know a word and at the end tell you not only the whole story, but
what the characters had been saying to one another; indeed, he could
usually tell what was to happen in any act as soon as he saw the
arrangement of the furniture. But this did not make him _blase_--a
strange word, indeed, to apply to one who seemed to be born afresh each
morning. It was not so much that all the world was a stage to him as
that his stage was a world, a world of the "artistic temperament"--that
is to say, a very childish world of which he was occasionally the stern
but usually indulgent father.
His innumerable companies were as children to him; he chided them as
children, soothed them, forgave them, and certainly loved them as
children. He exulted in those who became great names in that world and
gave them | 300.946951 |
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Produced by Henry Flower 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: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold
text by =equal signs=.
AFTER THE DIVORCE
_A ROMANCE_
BY
GRAZIA DELEDDA
_Translated from the Italian_
BY
MARIA HORNOR LANSDALE
And they shall scourge him, and put him to death;...
And they understood none of these things:....
--St. Luke xviii. 33, 34
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1905
COPYRIGHT, 1905
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
_Published March, 1905_
THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS
RAHWAY, N. J.
PART I
AFTER THE DIVORCE
CHAPTER I
Nineteen Hundred and Seven. In the "strangers' room" of the Porru house
a woman sat crying. Crouched on the floor near the bed, her knees drawn
up, her arms resting on her knees, and her forehead on her arms, she
wept and sobbed continuously, shaking her head from time to time as
though to indicate that there was no more hope, absolutely none at all;
while her plump shoulders and straight young back rose and fell in the
tightly fitting yellow bodice, like a wave of the sea.
The room was nearly in darkness; there were no windows, but through the
open door which gave upon a bricked gallery, a stretch of dull grey sky
could be seen, growing momentarily darker; and far, far away, against
this dusky background, gleamed the yellow ray of a little, solitary
star. From the courtyard below came the shrill chirping of a cricket,
and the occasional stamp of horses' hoofs on the stone pavement.
A short, heavy woman, clad in the Nuorese dress, with a large, fat,
old-woman face, appeared in the doorway; she carried a four-branched
iron candlestick, in one socket of which burned a wick soaked in oil.
"Giovanna Era," said she in a gruff voice, "what are you about all in
the dark? Are you there? What are you doing? I believe you are crying!
You must be crazy! Upon my word, that's just what you are--crazy!"
The young woman began to sob convulsively.
"Oh, oh, oh!" said the other, drawing near, and in the tone of one who
is deeply shocked and amazed. "I said you were crying. What are you
crying for? There's your mother waiting for you downstairs, and you up
here, crying like a crazy creature!"
The young woman wept more violently than ever, whereupon the other hung
the candlestick on a large nail, gazed vaguely about her, and then began
hovering over her disconsolate guest, searching for words wherewith to
comfort her; she could only repeat, however: "But, Giovanna, you are
crazy, just crazy!"
The "strangers' room"--the name given to that apartment which every
Nuorese family, according to immemorial custom, reserves for the use of
friends from the country--was large, white, and bare; it had a great
wooden bedstead, a table covered with a cotton cloth and adorned with
little glass cups and saucers, and a quantity of small pictures hung
close to the unpainted wooden ceiling. Bunches of dried grapes and
yellow pears hung from the rafters, filling the room with a faint
fragrance; and sacks of wool stood about on the floor.
The stout woman, who was the mistress of the house, laid hold of one of
these sacks, dragged it to another part of the room, and then back again
to where she had found it.
"Now then," said she, panting from her exertion, "do stop. What good
does it do? And why should you give up, anyhow? What the devil, my
dearie! Suppose the public prosecutor _has_ asked for the galleys, that
doesn't mean that the jury are all mad dogs like himself!"
But the other only kept on crying and shaking her head, moaning: "No,
no, no!" between her sobs.
"Yes, yes, I tell you," urged the woman. "Get up now, and come to your
mother," and, taking hold of her, she forced back her head.
The action revealed a charming countenance; rosy, framed in a thick mass
of tumbled black hair; | 301.068475 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.1257010 | 821 | 34 |
Produced by Stan Goodman, Mary Meehan
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
OLD LADY MARY.
A STORY OF THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN.
By Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
I
She was very old, and therefore it was very hard for her to make up her
mind to die. I am aware that this is not at all the general view, but
that it is believed, as old age must be near death, that it prepares the
soul for that inevitable event. It is not so, however, in many cases. In
youth we are still so near the unseen out of which we came, that death is
rather pathetic than tragic,--a thing that touches all hearts, but to
which, in many cases, the young hero accommodates himself sweetly and
courageously. And amid the storms and burdens of middle life there are
many times when we would fain push open the door that stands ajar, and
behind which there is ease for all our pains, or at least rest, if
nothing more. But age, which has gone through both these phases, is apt,
out of long custom and habit, to regard the matter from a different view.
All things that are violent have passed out of its life,--no more strong
emotions, such as rend the heart; no great labors, bringing after them
the weariness which is unto death; but the calm of an existence which is
enough for its needs, which affords the moderate amount of comfort and
pleasure for which its being is now adapted, and of which there seems no
reason that there should ever be any end. To passion, to joy, to anguish,
an end must come; but mere gentle living, determined by a framework of
gentle rules and habits--why should that ever be ended? When a soul has
got to this retirement and is content in it, it becomes very hard to die;
hard to accept the necessity of dying, and to accustom one's self to the
idea, and still harder to consent to carry it out.
The woman who is the subject of the following narrative was in this
position. She had lived through almost everything that is to be found in
life. She had been beautiful in her youth, and had enjoyed all the
triumphs of beauty; had been intoxicated with flattery, and triumphant in
conquest, and mad with jealousy and the bitterness of defeat when it
became evident that her day was over. She had never been a bad woman, or
false, or unkind; but she had thrown herself with all her heart into
those different stages of being, and had suffered as much as she enjoyed,
according to the unfailing usage of life. Many a day during these storms
and victories, when things went against her, when delights did not
satisfy her, she had thrown out a cry into the wide air of the universe
and wished to die. And then she had come to the higher table-land of
life, and had borne all the spites of fortune,--had been poor and rich,
and happy and sorrowful; had lost and won a hundred times over; had sat
at feasts, and kneeled by deathbeds, and followed her best-beloved to the
grave, often, often crying out to God above to liberate her, to make an
end of her anguish, for that her strength was exhausted and she could
bear no more. But she had borne it and lived through all; and now had
arrived at a time when all strong sensations are over, when the soul is
no longer either triumphant or miserable, and when life itself, and
comfort and ease, and the warmth of the sun, and of the fireside, and the
mild beauty of home were enough for her, and | 301.145741 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.1541830 | 2,136 | 52 |
Produced by Louise Hope, PM for Bureau of American
Ethnology, The Internet Archive (American Libraries) and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the BibliothA"que nationale
de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr) Music
transcribed by the PG Finale Team.
[Transcriber's Notes:
This text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the
"real" (Unicode/UTF-8) version of the file. Some compromises were made
in character display:
--Vowels with macron or "long" mark (rare) are shown instead with
circumflex: a, e. The circumflex accent does not occur anywhere else.
--The "oe" ligature (also rare) is shown as two letters.
--A handful of other letters have been "unpacked" and shown
in brackets.
--For chi and kra, see under "Orthography".
Parenthetical question marks (?) are in the original. Italics are shown
conventionally with _lines_. In the Glossary (only) small capitals are
shown with #marks#.
Orthography is explained early in the article. Modern (ICI) forms should
be deducible from Boas's spellings. These are based on Kleinschmidt,
but with q in place of [kra]. Note that long vowels are rarely marked,
except in the Glossary and in figure captions. Words are often written
with nasalized finals: n for t sometimes, ng for k almost always,
irn (only) for iq. Medial q was usually written as Greek chi,
representing the fricative pronunciation: "E[ch]aluin" and similar.
As a compromise for this Latin-1 text, chi is shown as q in the main
text, and as [ch] in the Glossary.
Missing punctuation in Figure captions and the Glossary has been
silently supplied. Other typographical errors are listed at the end of
the e-text.]
Smithsonian Institution----Bureau Of Ethnology.
THE CENTRAL ESKIMO.
by
DR. FRANZ BOAS
CONTENTS.
Page.
Introduction 409
Authorities quoted 410
Orthography 413
Geography of Northeastern America 414
Distribution of the tribes 419
General observations 419
Baffin Land 421
The Sikosuilarmiut 421
The Akuliarmiut 421
The Qaumauangmiut 421
The Nugumiut 422
The Oqomiut 424
The Padlimiut and the Akudnirmiut 440
The Aggomiut 442
The Iglulirmiut 444
The Pilingmiut 444
The Sagdlirmiut 444
Western shore of Hudson Bay 444
The Aivillirmiut 445
The Kinipetu or Agutit 450
The Sagdlirmiut of Southampton Island 451
The Sinimiut 451
Boothia Felix and Back River 452
The Netchillirmiut 452
The Ugjulirmiut 458
The Ukusiksalirmiut 458
Smith Sound 459
The natives of Ellesmere Land 459
The North Greenlanders 460
Influence of geographical conditions upon the distribution
of the settlements 460
Trade and intercourse between the tribes 462
List of the Central Eskimo tribes 470
Hunting and fishing 471
Seal, walrus, and whale hunting 471
Deer, musk ox, and bear hunting 501
Hunting of small game 510
Fishing 513
Manufactures 516
Making leather and preparing skins 516
Sundry implements 523
Transportation by boats and sledges 527
The boat 527
The sledge and dogs 529
Habitations and dress 539
The house 539
Clothing, dressing of the hair, and tattooing 554
Social and religious life 561
Domestic occupations and amusements 561
Visiting 574
Social customs in summer 576
Social order and laws 578
Religious ideas and the angakunirn (priesthood) 583
Sedna and the fulmar 583
The tornait and the angakut 591
The flight to the moon 598
Kadlu the thunderer 600
Feasts, religious and secular 600
Customs and regulations concerning birth, sickness,
and death 609
Tales and traditions 615
Ititaujang 615
The emigration of the Sagdlirmiut 618
Kalopaling 620
The Uissuit 621
Kiviung 621
Origin of the narwhal 625
The visitor 627
The fugitive women 628
Qaudjaqdjuq 628
I. Story of the three brothers 628
II. Qaudjaqdjuq 630
Igimarasugdjuqdjuaq the cannibal 633
The Tornit 634
The woman and the spirit of the singing house 636
The constellation Udleqdjun 636
Origin of the Adlet and of the Qadlunait 637
The great flood 637
Inugpaqdjuqdjualung 638
The bear story 638
Sundry tales 639
The owl and the raven 641
Comparison between Baffin Land traditions and those of
other tribes 641
Science and the arts 643
Geography and navigation 643
Poetry and music 648
Merrymaking among the Tornit 649
The lemming's song 649
Arlum pissinga (the killer's song) 650
I. Summer song 653
II. The returning hunter 653
III. Song of the Tornit 653
IV. Song of the Inuit traveling to Nettilling 653
V. Oqaitoq's song 654
VI. Utitiaq's song 654
VII. Song 654
VIII. Song 654
IX. Song of the Tornit 654
X. The fox and the woman 655
XI. The raven's song 655
XII. Song of a Padlimio 655
XIII. Ititaujang's song 655
XIV. Playing at ball 656
XV. Playing at ball 657
XVI-XIX. Extracts 657-658
Glossary 659
Eskimo words used, with derivations and significations 659
Eskimo geographical names used, with English
significations 662
Appendix 667
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page.
PLATE II. Map showing in detail the geographical divisions
of territory occupied by the Eskimo tribes of
Northeastern America (*)
1. Oqo and Akudnirn.
2. Frobisher Bay.
3. Eclipse Sound and Admiralty Inlet.
4. Repulse Bay and Lyon Inlet.
5. Boothia Isthmus and King William Land.
III. Map of the territory occupied by the Eskimo tribes
of North America, showing the boundaries (*)
IV. Map of Cumberland Peninsula, drawn by Aranin,
a Saumingmio 643
V. Eskimo drawings 648
VI. Eskimo drawings 650
VII. Eskimo drawings 651
VIII. Eskimo carvings 652
IX. Eskimo carvings 653
X. Modern implements 654
[* In pocket at end of volume.]
FIG. 390. Harpoon from Alaska 472
391. Modern unang or sealing harpoon 472
392. Old style naulang or harpoon head 473
393. Modern naulang or harpoon head 473
394. Qilertuang or leather strap and clasps for holding
coiled up harpoon lines 474
395. Siatko or harpoon head of the Iglulirmiut 475
396. Siatko found at Exeter Sound 475
397. Eskimo in the act of striking a seal 476
398. Tutareang or buckle 477
399. Eskimo awaiting return of seal to blowhole 478
400. Tuputang or ivory plugs for closing wounds 479
401. Wooden case for plugs 480
402. Another form of plug 480
403. Qanging for fastening thong to jaw of seal 480
404. Qanging in form of a seal 481
405. Q | 301.174223 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.3961300 | 341 | 16 |
Produced by Demian Katz and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy
of the Digital Library@Villanova University
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
OLD BROADBRIM WEEKLY
(MORE READING MATTER THAN ANY
FIVE CENT DETECTIVE LIBRARY PUBLISHED)
FIVE CENTS
OLD BROADBRIM
No =32=
INTO THE HEART
OF AUSTRALIA
[Illustration: The ringleader of the brigands issued the order to
riddle the prisoner, but at the same time the detective's rifle spoke,
and the form of the captain of the robbers reeled and tumbled in a heap
a few feet away from his intended victim.]
[Illustration: OLD BROADBRIM WEEKLY]
_Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application has been
made as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by_ STREET &
SMITH, _238 William St., N. Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in
the year 1903, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington,
D. C._
No. 32. NEW YORK, May 9, 1903. =Price Five Cents.=
Old Broadbrim Into the Heart of Australia;
OR,
A STRANGE BARGAIN AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
By the author of "OLD BROADBRIM."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. OLD BROAD | 301.41617 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.7290290 | 4,425 | 94 |
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa 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.
THE DUSANTES
THE DUSANTES
A SEQUEL TO "THE CASTING AWAY OF MRS. LECKS
AND MRS. ALESHINE"
BY
FRANK R. STOCKTON
NEW-YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
THE DE VINNE PRESS.
THE DUSANTES
A SEQUEL TO "THE CASTING AWAY OF MRS. LECKS AND MRS. ALESHINE"
PART I
When the little party, consisting of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, Mr.
Enderton, my newly made wife, and myself, with the red-bearded
coxswain and the two sailor men, bade farewell to that island in the
Pacific where so many happy hours had been passed, where such pleasant
friendships had been formed, and where I had met my Ruth and made her
my wife, we rowed away with a bright sky over our heads, a pleasant
wind behind us, and a smooth sea beneath us. The long-boat was
comfortable and well appointed, and there was even room enough in it
for Mr. Enderton to stretch himself out and take a noonday nap. We
gave him every advantage of this kind, for we had found by experience
that our party was happiest when my father-in-law was best contented.
Early in the forenoon the coxswain rigged a small sail in the bow of
the boat, and with this aid to our steady and systematic work at the
oars we reached, just before nightfall, the large island whither we
were bound, and to which, by means of the coxswain's pocket-compass,
we had steered a direct course. Our arrival on this island, which was
inhabited by some white traders and a moderate population of natives,
occasioned great surprise, for when the boats containing the crew and
passengers of our unfortunate steamer had reached the island, it was
found that Mrs. Lecks, Mrs. Aleshine, and myself were missing. There
were many suppositions as to our fate. Some persons thought we had
been afraid to leave the steamer, and, having secreted ourselves on
board, had gone down with her. Others conjectured that in the darkness
we had fallen overboard, either from the steamer or from one of the
boats; and there was even a surmise that we might have embarked in the
leaky small boat--in which we really did leave the steamer--and so had
been lost. At any rate, we had disappeared, and our loss was a good
deal talked about, and, in a manner, mourned. In less than a week
after their arrival the people from the steamer had been taken on
board a sailing vessel and carried westward to their destination.
We, however, were not so fortunate, for we remained on this island for
more than a month. During this time but one ship touched there, and
she was western bound and of no use to us, for we had determined to
return to America. Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine had given up their
journey to Japan, and were anxious to reach once more their country
homes, while my dear Ruth and I were filled with a desire to found a
home on some pleasant portion of the Atlantic seaboard. What Mr.
Enderton intended to do we did not know. He was on his way to the
United States when he left the leaking ship on which he and his
daughter were passengers, and his intentions regarding his journey did
not appear to have been altered by his mishaps.
By the western-bound vessel, however, Mrs. Aleshine sent a letter to
her son.
Our life on this island was monotonous, and to the majority of the
party uninteresting; but as it was the scene of our honeymoon, Mrs.
Craig and I will always look back to it with the most pleasurable
recollections. We were comfortably lodged in a house belonging to one
of the traders, and although Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine had no
household duties to occupy their time, they managed to supply
themselves with knitting materials from the stores on the island, and
filled up their hours of waiting with chatty industry. The pipes of
our sailor friends were always well filled, while the sands of the
island were warm and pleasant for their backs, and it was only Mr.
Enderton who showed any signs of impatient repining at our enforced
stay. He growled, he grumbled, and he inveighed against the criminal
neglect of steamship companies and the owners of sailing craft in not
making it compulsory in every one of their vessels to stop on every
voyage at this island, where, at any time, intelligent and important
personages might be stranded.
At last, however, we were taken off by a three-masted schooner bound
for San Francisco, at which city we arrived in due time and in good
health and condition.
We did not remain long in this city, but soon started on our way
across the continent, leaving behind us our three sailor companions,
who intended to ship from this port as soon as an advantageous
opportunity offered itself. These men heard no news of their vessel,
although they felt quite sure that she had reached Honolulu, where
she had probably been condemned and the crew scattered. As some
baggage belonging to my wife and my father-in-law had been left on
board this vessel, I had hopes that Mr. Enderton would remain in San
Francisco and order it forwarded to him there; or that he would even
take a trip to Honolulu to attend to the matter personally. But in
this I was disappointed. He seemed to take very little interest in his
missing trunks, and wished only to press on to the East. I wrote to
Honolulu, desiring the necessary steps to be taken to forward the
baggage in case it had arrived there; and soon afterwards our party of
five started eastward.
It was now autumn, but, although we desired to reach the end of our
journey before winter set in, we felt that we had time enough to visit
some of the natural wonders of the California country before taking up
our direct course to the East. Therefore, in spite of some petulant
remonstrances on the part of Mr. Enderton, we made several trips to
points of interest.
From the last of these excursions we set out in a stage-coach, of
which we were the only occupants, towards a point on the railroad
where we expected to take a train. On the way we stopped to change
horses at a small stage station at the foot of a range of mountains;
and when I descended from the coach I found the driver and some of the
men at the station discussing the subject of our route. It appeared
that there were two roads, one of which gradually ascended the
mountain for several miles, and then descended to the level of the
railroad, by the side of which it ran until it reached the station
where we wished to take the train. The other road pursued its way
along a valley or notch in the mountain for a considerable distance,
and then, by a short but somewhat steep ascending grade, joined the
upper road.
It was growing quite cold, and the sky and the wind indicated that bad
weather might be expected; and as the upper road was considered the
better one at such a time, our driver concluded to take it. Six
horses, instead of four, were now attached to our stage, and as two of
these animals were young and unruly and promised to be unusually
difficult to drive in the ordinary way, our driver concluded to ride
one of the wheel horses, postilion fashion, and to put a boy on one of
the leaders. Mr. Enderton was very much afraid of horses, and objected
strongly to the young animals in our new team. But there were no
others to take their places, and his protests were disregarded.
My wife and I occupied a back seat, having been ordered to take this
comfortable position by Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, who had
constituted themselves a board of instruction and admonition to Mrs.
Craig, and, incidentally, to myself. They fancied that my wife's
health was not vigorous and that she needed coddling; and if she had
had two mothers she could not have been more tenderly cared for than
by these good women. They sat upon the middle seat with their faces
towards the horses, while Mr. Enderton had the front seat all to
himself. He was, however, so nervous and fidgety, continually twisting
himself about, endeavoring to get a view of the horses or of the bad
places on the road, that Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine found that a
position facing him and in close juxtaposition was entirely too
uncomfortable; and consequently, the back of their seat being
adjustable, they turned themselves about and faced us.
The ascent of the mountain was slow and tedious, and it was late in
the afternoon when we reached the highest point in our route, from
which the road descended for some eight miles to the level of the
railroad. Now our pace became rapid, and Mr. Enderton grew wildly
excited. He threw open the window and shouted to the driver to go
more slowly, but Mrs. Lecks seized him by the coat and jerked him back
on his seat before he could get any answer to his appeals.
"If you want your daughter to ketch her death o' cold you'll keep that
window open!" As she said this, she leaned back and pulled the window
down with her own strong right arm. "I guess the driver knows what he
is about," she continued, "this not bein' the first time he's gone
over the road."
"Am I to understand, madam," said Mr. Enderton, "that I am not to
speak to my driver when I wish him to know my will?"
To this question Mrs. Lecks made no answer, but sat up very straight
and stiff, with her back square upon the speaker. For some time she
and Mr. Enderton had been "out," and she made no effort to conceal the
fact.
Mr. Enderton's condition now became pitiable, for our rapid speed and
the bumping over rough places in the road seemed almost to deprive him
of his wits, notwithstanding my assurance that stage-coaches were
generally driven at a rapid rate down long inclines. In a short time,
however, we reached a level spot in the road, and the team was drawn
up and stopped. Mr. Enderton popped out in a moment, and I also got
down to have a talk with the driver.
"These hosses won't do much at holdin' back," he said, "and it worries
'em less to let 'em go ahead with the wheels locked. You needn't be
afraid. If nothin' breaks, we're all right."
Mr. Enderton seemed endeavoring to satisfy himself that everything
about the running-gear of the coach was in a safe condition. He
examined the wheels, the axles, and the whiffletrees, much to the
amusement of the driver, who remarked to me that the old chap probably
knew as much now as he did before. I was rather surprised that my
father-in-law subjected the driver to no further condemnation. On the
contrary, he said nothing except that for the rest of this down-hill
drive he should take his place on the driver's unoccupied seat. Nobody
offered any objection to this, and up he climbed.
When we started again Ruth seemed disturbed that her father should be
in such an exposed position, but I assured her that he would be
perfectly safe, and would be much better satisfied at being able to
see for himself what was going on.
We now began to go down-hill again at a rate as rapid as before. Our
speed, however, was not equal. Sometimes it would slacken a little
where the road was heavy or more upon a level, and then we would go
jolting and rattling over some long downward stretch. After a
particularly unpleasant descent of this kind the coach seemed suddenly
to change its direction, and with a twist and an uplifting of one side
it bumped heavily against something and stopped. I heard a great shout
outside, and from a window which now commanded a view of the road I
saw our team of six horses, with the drivers pulling and tugging at
the two they rode, madly running away at the top of their speed.
Ruth, who had been thrown by the shock into the arms of Mrs. Aleshine,
was dreadfully frightened, and screamed for her father. I had been
pitched forward upon Mrs. Lecks, but I quickly recovered myself, and
as soon as I found that none of the occupants of the coach had been
hurt, I opened the door and sprang out.
In the middle of the road stood Mr. Enderton, entirely uninjured, with
a jubilant expression on his face, and in one hand a large closed
umbrella.
"What has happened?" I exclaimed, hurrying around to the front of the
coach, where I saw that the pole had been broken off about the middle
of its length.
"Nothing has happened, sir," replied Mr. Enderton. "You cannot speak
of a wise and discreet act, determinately performed, as a thing which
has happened. We have been saved, sir, from being dashed to pieces
behind that wild and unmanageable team of horses; and I will add that
we have been saved by my forethought and prompt action."
I turned and looked at him in astonishment. "What do you mean?" I
said. "What could you have had to do with this accident?"
"Allow me to repeat," said Mr. Enderton, "that it was not an accident.
The moment that we began to go down-hill I perceived that we were in a
position of the greatest danger. The driver was reckless, the boy
incompetent, and the horses unmanageable. As my remonstrances and
counsels had no effect upon the man, and as you seemed to have no
desire to join me in efforts to restrain him to a more prudent rate of
speed, I determined to take the affair into my own hands. I knew that
the first thing to be done was to rid ourselves of those horses. So
long as we were connected with them disaster was imminent. I knew
exactly what ought to be done. The horses must be detached from the
coach. I had read, sir, of inventions especially intended to detach
runaway horses from a vehicle. To all intents and purposes our horses
were runaways, or would have become so in a very short time. I now
made it my object to free ourselves from those horses. I got out at
our first stop and thoroughly examined the carriage attachments. I
found that the movable bar to which the whiffletrees were attached was
connected to the vehicle by two straps and a bolt, the latter having a
ring at the top and an iron nut at the bottom. While you and that
reckless driver were talking together and paying no attention to me,
the only person in the party who thoroughly comprehended our danger, I
unbuckled those straps, and with my strong, nervous fingers, without
the aid of implements, I unscrewed the nut from the bolt. Then, sir, I
took my seat on the outside of the coach and felt that I held our
safety in my own hands. For a time I allowed our vehicle to proceed,
but when we approached this long <DW72> which stretches before us, and
our horses showed signs of increasing impetuosity, I leaned forward,
hooked the handle of my umbrella in the ring of the bolt, and with a
mighty effort jerked it out. I admit to you, sir, that I had
overlooked the fact that the other horses were attached to the end of
the pole, but I have often noticed that when we are discreet in
judgment and prompt in action we are also fortunate. Thus was I
fortunate. The hindermost horses, suddenly released, rushed upon
those in front of them, and, in a manner, jumbled up the whole team,
which seemed to throw the animals into such terror that they dashed to
one side and snapped off the pole, after which they went madly tearing
down the road, entirely beyond the control of the two riders. Our
coach turned and ran into the side of the road with but a moderate
concussion, and as I looked at those flying steeds, with their riders
vainly endeavoring to restrain them, I could not, sir, keep down an
emotion of pride that I had been instrumental in freeing myself, my
daughter, and my traveling companions from their dangerous proximity."
The speaker ceased, a smile of conscious merit upon his face. For the
moment I could not say a word to him, I was so angry. But had I been
able to say or do anything to indicate the wild indignation that
filled my brain, I should have had no opportunity, for Mrs. Lecks
stepped up to me and took me by the arm. Her face was very stern, and
her expression gave one the idea of the rigidity of Bessemer steel.
"I've heard what has been said," she remarked, "and I wish to talk to
this man. Your wife is over there with Mrs. Aleshine. Will you please
take a walk with her along the road? You may stay away for a quarter
of an hour."
"Madam," said Mr. Enderton, "I do not wish to talk to you."
"I didn't ask you whether you did or not," said Mrs. Lecks. "Mr.
Craig, will you please get your wife away as quick and as far as you
can?"
I took the hint, and, with Ruth on my arm, walked rapidly down the
road. She was very glad to go, for she had been much frightened, and
wanted to be alone with me to have me explain to her what had
occurred. Mrs. Lecks, imagining from the expression of his countenance
that Mr. Enderton had, in some way, been at the bottom of the trouble,
and fearing that she should not be able to restrain her indignation
when she found how he had done it, had ordered Mrs. Aleshine to keep
Ruth away from her father. This action had increased the poor girl's
anxiety, and she was glad enough to have me take her away and tell her
all about our accident.
I did tell her all that had happened, speaking as mildly as I could of
Mr. Enderton's conduct. Poor Ruth burst into tears.
"I do wish," she exclaimed, "that father would travel by himself! He
is so nervous, and so easily frightened, that I am sure he would be
happier when he could attend to his safety in his own way; and I
know, too, that we should be happier without him."
I agreed most heartily with these sentiments, although I did not deem
it necessary to say so, and Ruth now asked me what I supposed would
become of us.
"If nothing happens to the driver and the boy," I replied, "I suppose
they will go on until they get to the station to which we were bound,
and there they will procure a pole, if such a thing can be found, or,
perhaps, get another coach, and come back for us. It would be useless
for them to return to our coach in its present condition."
"And how soon do you think they will come back?" she said.
"Not for some hours," I replied. "The driver told me there were no
houses between the place where we last stopped and the railroad
station, and I am sure he will not turn back until he reaches a place
where he can get either a new pole or another vehicle."
Ruth and I walked to a | 301.749069 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.9204470 | 3,364 | 6 |
Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
TWO WYOMING GIRLS
And Their Homestead Claim
A Story for Girls
BY
MRS. CARRIE L. MARSHALL
Author of "The Girl Ranchers," Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA MDCCCXCIX
COPYRIGHT 1899 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
[Illustration: THE FLAMES REACHED TOWARD ME GREEDILY
(Page 63)]
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I I GO ON AN ERRAND 7
II THE WILL OF THE WATERS 23
III AT THE MOUTH OF THE SHAFT 37
IV A PLOT FOILED 44
V AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 57
VI A VISIT FROM MRS. HORTON 68
VII SURMISES 77
VIII "BEST LAID PLANS" 92
IX AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 108
X RALPH AND I GO BLACKBERRYING 118
XI THE CATTLE BRAND 130
XII ON THE TRAIL OF A WILDCAT 145
XIII JOE DISAPPEARS 158
XIV AT THE STORAGE RESERVOIR 172
XV CHASED BY WOLVES 183
XVI A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 194
XVII A QUEER BANK 207
XVIII A VITAL POINT 227
XIX MR. HORTON MAKES US A VISIT 240
XX GUARD MAKES A MISTAKE 253
XXI A FRIEND IN NEED 261
XXII AN OPEN WINDOW 273
XXIII ALONE ON THE CLAIM 284
XXIV HUNTING FOR GUARD 294
XXV GUARD'S PRISONER 304
XXVI MR. HORTON CAPITULATES 316
TWO WYOMING GIRLS
CHAPTER I
I GO ON AN ERRAND
A fierce gust of wind and rain struck the windows, and Jessie, on her
way to the breakfast table, dish in hand, paused to listen.
"Raining again!" she exclaimed, setting the dish down emphatically.
"It seems to me that it has rained every day this spring. When it
hasn't poured here in the valley, it has more than made up for it in
the mountains."
"You are more than half right," father said, drawing his chair up to
the table. "Is breakfast ready, dear? I am going to work in the mines
to-day, and I'm in something of a hurry."
"Going to work in the mines!" Jessie echoed the words, as, I am sure,
I did also. I was sitting in the corner dressing little Ralph, or, to
be strictly accurate, trying to dress him. No three year-old that ever
lived could be more exasperating than he sometimes was during that
ordeal or could show a more pronounced distaste for the bondage of
civilized garments.
Jessie made haste to dish up the breakfast, but she inquired: "Do you
remember, papa, what that old miner who was here the other day told us
about mines in the wet season? About what was liable to happen
sometimes, and did happen here once, a good many years ago?"
"I don't know that I do," father answered, glancing toward Ralph and
me, to see if we were ready. As we were anything but that, he
continued; "I guess I won't wait for you children."
"Don't, please!" I exclaimed, "Ralph is a perfect little buzz-saw this
morning. Keep still, Ralph!"
"Me want to do barefoot! Me want to wade in 'e puddle!" cried the
child, pulling one soft little foot out of the stocking that I had
just succeeded in getting upon it.
"Ralph!" I cried, angrily: "I've a good notion to spank you!"
"Don't, Leslie!" father interposed, mildly; "I remember so well how I
liked to wade in the mud-puddles when I was a little shaver; but it's
too early in the season, and too cold for that sort of sport now. So,
Ralph, my boy, let sister dress you, and don't hinder."
Ralph always obeyed father's slightest word, no matter how gently the
word was spoken; so now he sat demurely silent while I completed his
toilet.
"What was it that your friend, the miner, said, Jessie?" father asked,
as Jessie took her seat and poured out his coffee.
"He said that there had been so much rain on the mountains, and that
the Crusoe mines were on such a low level that there was some danger
of an inrush of water, like that which ruined the Lost Chance, before
we came here."
"I recollect hearing something about the Lost Chance," father said,
going on with his breakfast indifferently. "There may have been water
crevices in it. The accident was probably caused by them--and
neglect."
"I don't see how it could be all due to neglect," Jessie persisted.
"The miner said that the springs and rivers were all booming full,
just as they are now. People never thought of danger from the water,
because it was so often warm and dry in the valley--as it is, you
know, often, even when it is raining hard on the mountains. The miner
said that the men went on with their work in the mine, as usual,
until, one afternoon, the timbered walls of the tunnels slumped in
like so much wet sand. What had been underground passages became, in a
moment, underground rivers, for the water that had been held back and
dammed up so long just poured in in a drowning flood. He said that the
rainfall seeped through the bogs up on the mountains, and fed
underground reservoirs that held the water safely until they were
overtaxed. When that happened the water would burst out, finding an
outlet for itself in some new place. The only reason that any one of
the force of thirty men usually employed in the mine escaped was that
the accident occurred just as they were putting on a new shift. I
remember very well what he told us."
"I see that you do," father responded, with a thoughtful glance at her
earnest face, "but I reckon he rather overdid the business. These old
miners are always full of whims and forecasts; they are as
superstitious as sailors."
"What he told was not superstition; it was a fact," replied Jessie,
with unexpected logic.
Father smiled. "Well, anyway, don't you get to worrying about the Gray
Eagle, daughter. It's rather damp these days, I admit, but as safe as
this kitchen."
"Do you really think so, papa?" Jessie asked, evidently reassured.
"Well, perhaps not quite as safe," father answered, with half a smile.
"It's a good deal darker for one thing, you know, and there are
noises--"
He lapsed into that kind of listening silence that comes to one who is
striving to recall something that has been heard, not seen, or felt,
and I was about to insist upon a further elucidation of those
subterranean sounds when the door opened and a man, whom father had
hired for the day, put in his head:
"Say, Mr. Gordon, I can't find a spade anywhere," he announced.
"Well, there!" father exclaimed, with a disturbed look, "our spade was
left at the mine the last day that we worked there."
"That's too bad!" the man, who was a neighbor, as neighbors go on the
frontier, said regretfully. "I can go back home and get mine, but the
team's hitched up; it's stopped raining, an' there's a load of posts
on the wagon. Seems'most a pity for me to take time to go an' hunt up
a spade, but I reckon I'll have to do it. I never saw the man yet that
could dig post holes without one."
"Oh, no, Reynolds, don't stop your work for that; I'll have to bring
mine down; it's about as near to get it from the Gray Eagle as to go
to one of the neighbors; you just go on with your work."
Reynolds withdrew accordingly, and, as the door closed upon him,
father said:
"I'm anxious to earn every dollar I can to help fence that wheat
field, before Horton's cattle 'accidentally' stray into it. I was out
to look at it this morning. The field looks as if covered with a green
carpet, it's coming up so thick. I count it good luck to be able to
get Reynolds to go on with the fence-building while I work in the
mine, for I can exchange work to pay him, while the pay that comes
from the mine is so much cash."
"And when we get our title clear, won't I shoo Mr. Horton's cattle to
the ends of the earth!" I said, resentfully, for we all understood
well enough that the reason that father was so anxious to earn money
was to pay for the final "proving up" on his homestead claim, as well
as to build fences. "I'm teaching Guard to 'heel' on purpose to keep
track of those cattle," I concluded, audaciously, for father didn't
approve of a policy of retaliation.
"Horton's cattle are not to blame," he said now, but the shadow that
always came over his patient face at the mention of our intractable
neighbor settled heavily upon it as he spoke.
"I know the cattle are not to blame," I retorted, with a good deal of
temper. "I just wish that their master himself would come out and
trample on our corn and wallow in our wheat field, instead of driving
his cattle up so that they may do it; I'd set Guard on him with the
greatest pleasure."
"Now, now, Leslie, you shouldn't talk so!" father remonstrated gently.
But here Jessie, whose disposition is much more placid than mine,
broke in, abruptly:
"I don't blame Leslie for feeling so, father. Only think, we've been
on this place nearly five years, and we've never yet raised a crop,
because Mr. Horton's cattle, no matter where they may be ranging,
always get up here just in time--the right time--to do the most
damage. The other neighbors' cattle hardly ever stray into our
fields, and when they do the neighbors are good about it. Think of the
time when Mr. Rollins's herd got into the corn field and ate the corn
rows down, one after another. Mr. Rollins came after them himself, and
paid the damage, without a word of complaint. Besides, he said that it
shouldn't happen again; and it didn't. When has Mr. Horton ever done a
thing like that?"
"He's been kept busy other ways," father said, and his voice had none
of the resentment that Jessie's expressed. "The last time that his
cattle got in here I went to see him about it, and he said that the
field was a part of the range, being unfenced, and that any lawyer in
the United States would sustain him in saying so. He was quite right,
too--only he was not neighborly."
"Neighborly! I should say not," Jessie exclaimed, with a lowering
brow. "His horses have trampled down our garden and girdled all our
fruit trees, even to the Seckel pear that mother brought from
grandfather's."
"I know; it is very trying," father said, stifling a sigh; "but it can
do no good to dwell on these things, daughter. An enemy of any kind
does you more injury when he destroys your peace of mind, and causes
you to harbor revengeful feelings, than he can possibly achieve in any
other way. We must keep up our courage, and make the best of present
circumstances, bad as they sometimes are. A change is bound to come."
"Me wants more breakfuss," Ralph broke in, suddenly, extending his
empty milk-cup toward me, his chief servitor. I refilled it from the
pitcher beside me, and as I absently crumbled bits of bread into it I
sought enlightenment. "I never quite understood, father, why Mr.
Horton is so spiteful toward us."
"It is easily understood, Leslie. He wants this homestead claim, and
hopes to weary us into giving it up."
"He can find plenty of other claims," I argued.
"Yes; but not such as this. This is an upper valley, as you know, and
just above our claim five mountain streams join the main river as the
fingers of a hand join the palm, the main river being the palm. Every
square foot of our claim can be irrigated, and it takes in about all
of the valley that is worth taking--enough to control the water rights
for all the land below us. That is the reason why Horton is trying so
hard to dislodge us. He would like to be able to make the ranchmen on
the lower ranches come to his terms about the water."
"But the law regulates the water rights," said Jessie.
"It is supposed to do so, and does it, after a fashion, but no human
laws have ever yet been able to satisfactorily regulate a mean man. It
would be a great misfortune to the ranchmen below if Horton were to
get a title to this place; he likes to make people feel his authority,
and one effective way of doing that would be to worry people about the
water supply, just when they needed it most, of course. I feel now
that our danger of losing the place is past. It has been a hard
struggle to bear up against nearly five years of such sly, petty
persecutions. Horton is careful not to oppose us openly. When he's
found out, as he is occasionally, it always appears that he has been
careful to keep within the letter of the law. Well, as Leslie says,
we'll get our title clear, and then the wind will be out of Mr.
Horton's sails. I've been afraid to make a move, or to do anything
except curl down and study the homestead laws all this time. If I had
come to an open rupture with him he might have gone down to the land
office and told some story of his own invention to the agent that
would injure me greatly, for land agents are only too ready to believe
evil of land claimants, it seems to me. Now my notice for offering
final proof is in one of the papers; it must be published three times,
and the period of publication must not range over more than three
months at the outside, so you see, at the farthest, if our proof is
accepted, we shall have a deed to this place within three months. I do
not see how we can fail to get it; we have complied with all the
requirements."
"Yes," Jessie assented, gravely. "We have two cows, two | 301.940487 |
2023-11-16 18:22:06.1303790 | 2,137 | 54 |
Produced by Jake Jaqua. HTML version by Al Haines.
Lectures of Col. R. G. Ingersoll--Latest
Contents
Thomas Paine
Liberty of Man, Woman and Child
Orthodoxy
Blasphemy
Some Reasons Why
Intellectual Development
Human Rights
Talmagian Theology (Second Lecture)
Talmagian Theology (Third Lecture)
Religious Intolerance
Hereafter
Review of His Reviewers
How the Gods Grow
The Religion of our Day
Heretics And Heresies
The Bible
Voltaire
Myth and Miracle
Ingersoll's Letter, on The Chinese God
Ingersoll's Letter, Is Suicide a Sin?
Ingersoll's Letter, The Right To One's Life
Ingersoll's Lecture on Thomas Paine--Delivered in Central Music Hall,
Chicago, January 29, 1880 (From the Chicago Times, Verbatim Report)
Ladies and Gentlemen:--It so happened that the first speech--the very
first public speech I ever made--took occasion to defend the memory of
Thomas Paine.
I did it because I had read a little something of the history of my
country. I did it because I felt indebted to him for the liberty I
then enjoyed--and whatever religion may be true, ingratitude is the
blackest of crimes. And whether there is any God or not, in every star
that shines, gratitude is a virtue.
The man who will tell the truth about the dead is a good man, and for
one, about this man, I intend to tell just as near the truth as I can.
Most history consists in giving the details of things that never
happened--most biography is usually the lie coming from the mouth of
flattery, or the slander coming from the lips of malice, and whoever
attacks the religion of a country will, in his turn, be attacked.
Whoever attacks a superstition will find that superstition defended by
all the meanness of ingenuity. Whoever attacks a superstition will
find that there is still one weapon left in the arsenal of
Jehovah--slander.
I was reading, yesterday, a poem called the "Light of Asia," and I read
in that how a Boodh seeing a tigress perishing of thirst, with her
mouth upon the dry stone of a stream, with her two cubs sucking at her
dry and empty dugs, this Boodh took pity upon this wild and famishing
beast, and, throwing from himself the Yellowrobe of his order, and
stepping naked before this tigress, said: "Here is meat for you and
your cubs." In one moment the crooked daggers of her claws ran riot in
his flesh, and in another he was devoured. Such, during nearly all the
history of this world, has been the history of every man who has stood
in front of superstition.
Thomas Paine, as has been so eloquently said by the gentleman who
introduced me, was a friend of man, and whoever is a friend of man is
also a friend of God--if there is one. But God has had many friends
who were the enemies of their fellow-men. There is but one test by
which to measure any man who has lived. Did he leave this world better
than he found it? Did he leave in this world more liberty? Did he
leave in this world more goodness, more humanity, than when he was
born? That is the test. And whatever may have been the faults of
Thomas Paine, no American who appreciates liberty, no American who
believes in true democracy and pure republicanism, should ever breathe
one word against his name. Every American, with the divine mantle of
charity, should cover all his faults, and with a never-tiring tongue
should recount his virtues.
He was a common man. He did not belong to the aristocracy. Upon the
head of his father God had never poured the divine petroleum of
authority. He had not the misfortune to belong to the upper classes.
He had the fortune to be born among the poor and to feel against his
great heart the throb of the toiling and suffering masses. Neither was
it his misfortune to have been educated at Oxford. What little sense
he had was not squeezed out at Westminster. He got his education from
books. He got his education from contact with fellow-men, and he
thought, and a man is worth just what nature impresses upon him. A man
standing by the sea, or in a forest, or looking at a flower, or hearing
a poem, or looking in the eyes of the woman he loves, receives all that
he is capable of receiving--and if he is a great man the impression is
great, and he uses it for the purpose of benefiting his fellow-man.
Thomas Paine was not rich, he was poor, and his father before him was
poor, and he was raised a sailmaker, a very lowly profession, and yet
that man became one of the mainstays of liberty in this world. At one
time he was an excise man, like Burns. Burns was once--speak it
softly--a gauger--and yet he wrote poems that will wet the cheek of
humanity with tears as long as the world travels in its orb around the
sun.
Poverty was his brother, necessity his master. He had more brains than
books; more courage than politeness; more strength than polish. He had
no veneration for old mistakes, no admiration for ancient lies. He
loved the truth for truth's sake and for man's sake. He saw oppression
on every hand, injustice everywhere, hypocrisy at the altar, venality
on the bench, tyranny on the throne, and with a splendid courage he
espoused the cause of the weak against the strong, of the enslaved many
against the titled few.
In England he was nothing. He belonged to the lower classes--that is,
the useful people. England depended for her prosperity upon her
mechanics and her thinkers, her sailors and her workers, and they are
the only men in Europe who are not gentlemen. The only obstacles in
the way of progress in Europe were the nobility and the priests, and
they are the only gentlemen.
This, and his native genius, constituted his entire capital, and he
needed no more. He found the colonies clamoring for justice; whining
about their grievances; upon their knees at the foot of the throne,
imploring that mixture of idiocy and insanity, George III., by the
grace of God, for a restoration of their ancient privileges. They were
not endeavoring to become free men, but were trying to soften the heart
of their master. They were perfectly willing to make brick if Pharaoh
would furnish the straw. The colonists wished for, hoped for, and
prayed for reconciliation. They did not dream of independence.
Paine gave to the world his "Common Sense." It was the first argument
for separation; the first assault upon the British form of government;
the first blow for a republic, and it aroused our fathers like a
trumpet's blast. He was the first to perceive the destiny of the new
world. No other pamphlet ever accomplished such wonderful results. It
was filled with arguments, reasons, persuasions, and unanswerable
logic. It opened a new world. It filled the present with hope and the
future with honor. Everywhere the people responded, and in a few months
the Continental Congress declared the colonies free and independent
states. A new nation was born.
It is simple justice to say that Paine did more to cause the
Declaration of Independence than any other man. Neither should it be
forgotten that his attacks upon Great Britain were also attacks upon
monarchy, and while he convinced the people that the colonies ought to
separate from the mother country, he also proved to them that a free
government is the best that can be instituted among men.
In my judgment Thomas Paine was the best political writer that ever
lived. "What he wrote was pure nature, and his soul and his pen ever
went together." Ceremony, pageantry, and all the paraphernalia of
power had no effect upon him. He examined into the why and wherefore
of things. He was perfectly radical in his mode of thought. Nothing
short of the bed-rock satisfied him. His enthusiasm for what he
believed to be right knew no bounds. During all the dark scenes of the
revolution never for a moment did he despair. Year after year his
brave words were ringing through the land, and by the bivouac fires the
weary soldiers read the inspiring words of "Common Sense," filled with
ideas sharper than their swords, and consecrated themselves anew to the
cause of freedom.
Paine was not content with having aroused the spirit of independence,
but he gave every energy of his soul to keep that spirit alive. He was
with the army. He shared its defeats, its dangers, and its glory.
When the situation became desperate, when gloom settled upon all, he
gave them the "Crisis." It was a cloud by day and a pillar of fire
by night, leading the way to freedom, honor, and glory. He shouted to
them "These are the times that try men's souls." The summer soldier
and the sunshine patriot, will, in this crisis, shrink from the service
of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks
of man and woman.
To those who wished to put the war off to some future day, with a lofty
and touching spirit of self-sacrifice, | 302.150419 |
2023-11-16 18:22:06.4276540 | 2,644 | 18 | A TREATISE ON PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE ***
Produced by Bryan Ness, 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/American Libraries.)
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 of its Movements--The
Pulse--The Sphygmograph--The Capillary Blood-vessels--The
Rate of the Circulation--Assimilation--Injuries to the Blood-vessels._
CHAPTER VIII.
RESPIRATION 123
_The Objects of Respiration--The Lungs--The Air-Passages--The Movements
of Respiration--Expiration and Inspiration--The Frequency
of Respiration--Capacity of the Lungs--The Air we Breathe--Changes
in the Air from Respiration--Changes in the Blood--Interchange
of Gases in the Lungs--Comparison between Arterial and
{7}
Venous Blood--Respiratory Labor--Impurities of the Air--Dust--Carbonic
Acid--Effects of Impure Air--Nature's Provision for
Purifying the Air--Ventilation--Animal Heat_.
CHAPTER IX.
THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 148
_Animal and Vegetative Functions--Sensation, Motion, and Volition--The
Structure of the Nervous System--The White and Gray Substances--The
Brain--Its Convolutions--Cerebellum--The Spinal
Cord and its System of Nerves--The Anterior and Posterior
Roots--The Sympathetic System of Nerves--The Properties of Nervous
Tissue--Excitability of Nervous Tissues--The Functions of the
Spinal Nerves and Cord--The Direction of the Fibres of the Cord--Reflex
Activity and its Uses--The Functions of the Medulla Oblongata
and the Cranial Ganglia--The Reflex Action of the Brain._
CHAPTER X.
THE SPECIAL SENSES 177
_The Production of Sensations--Variety of Sensations--General
Sensibility--Pain
and its Function--Special Sensation, Touch, Taste,
Smell, Sight, and Hearing--The Hand, the Organ of Touch--The
Sense of Touch--Delicacy of Touch--Sensation of Temperature and
Weight--The Tongue the Organ of Taste--The Nerves of Taste--The
Sense of Taste, and its Relations with the other Senses--The
Influence of Education on the Taste--The Nasal Cavities, or the
Organs of Smell--The Olfactory Nerve--The Uses of the Sense of
Smell--The Sense of Sight--Light--The Optic Nerve--The
Eyeball and its Coverings--The Function of the Iris--The
Sclerotic, Choroid, and Retina--The Tears and their Function--The
Movements of the Eyeball--The Function of Accommodation--The
Sense of Hearing and Sound--The Ear, or
the organ of Hearing--The External, Middle, and Internal Ear._
CHAPTER XI.
THE VOICE 227
_Voice and Speech--The Larynx, or the Organ of the Voice--The Vocal
Cords--The Laryngoscope--The Production of the Voice--The Use
of the Tongue--The different Varieties of Voice--The Change of
Voice--Its Compass--Purity of Tone--Ventriloquy._
{8}
CHAPTER XII.
THE USE OF THE MICROSCOPE IN THE STUDY OF
PHYSIOLOGY 236
_The Law of Tissues--Necessity of the Microscope--Different kinds of
Microscopes--Additional Apparatus--Preliminary Studies--The
Study of Human Tissues--Tissues of the Inferior Animals--Incentives
to Study._
APPENDIX.
POISONS AND THEIR ANTIDOTES 247
GLOSSARY 252
{9}
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
FRONTISPIECE, }
VISCERA IN POSITION,}
1. Section of bone, 17
2. Structure of bone, magnified, 17
3. The skeleton, 18
4. Cells of cartilage, 20
5. Elbow-joint, 21
6. Spinal column, 22
7. The muscles, 24
8. Muscular tissue, magnified, 25
9. Biceps muscle of the arm, 26
10. View of knee-joint, 27
11. Appliance for strengthening the muscles, 35
12. Appliance for strengthening the muscles, 35
13. Parlor gymnasium, 36
14. Root and transverse section of hair, magnified, 43 | 302.447694 |
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