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 She lay back, shaking her finger characteristically.

“In one year, in two, three, a swift pain comes, like a needle, you understand? Perhaps in the foot, in the hand, in the arm. It is exquisite, deathly, while it lasts, but it only lasts for a few moments. It is agony. And then it goes, leaving nothing to show what has caused it. But, my friends, it is a death warning!

“If it comes here”—she raised one delicate white hand—“you may have five years to live; if in the foot, ten, or more. But”—she sank her voice dramatically—“the nearer it is to the heart, the less are the days that remain to you of life.”

“You mean that it recurs?” asked Harley.

“Perhaps in a week, perhaps not for another year, it comes again, that quick agony. This time in the shoulder, in the knee. It is the second warning. Three times it may come, four times, but at last”—she laid her hand upon her breast—“it comes here, in the heart, and all is finished.”

She paused as if exhausted, closing her eyes again, whilst we three who listened looked at one another in an awestricken silence, until the vibrant voice resumed:

“There is only one man in Europe who understands this thing, this Creeping Sickness. He is a Frenchman who lives in Paris. To him Juan had been, and he had told him, this clever man, ‘If you are very quiet and do not exert yourself, and only take as much exercise as is necessary for your general health, you have one year to live’”

“My God!” groaned Harley.

“Yes, such was the verdict. And there is no cure. The poor sufferer must wait and wait, always wait, for that sudden pang, not knowing if it will come in his heart and be the finish. Yes. This living death, then,

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 and revenge, were the things ruling Juan’s life at the time of which I tell you. He had traced Ysola de Valera to England. A chance remark in a London hotel had told him that a Chinaman had been seen in a Surrey village and of course had caused much silly chatter. He enquired at once, and he found out that Colin Camber, the man who had taken Ysola from him, was living with her at the Guest House, here, on the hill. How shall I tell you the rest?”

“Merciful Heaven!” exclaimed Harley, his glance set upon her, with a sort of horror in his gray eyes, “I think I can guess.”

She turned to him rapidly.

“M. Harley,” she said, “you are a clever man. I believe you are a genius. And I have the strength to tell you because I am happy to-night. Because of his great wealth Juan succeeded in buying Cray’s Folly from Sir James Appleton to whom it belonged. He told everybody he leased it, but really he bought it. He paid him more than twice its value, and so obtained possession.

“But the plan was not yet complete, although it had taken form in that clever, wicked brain of his. Oh! I could tell you stories of the Menendez, and of the things they have done for love and revenge, which even you, who know much of life, would doubt, I think. Yes, you would not believe. But to continue. Shall I tell you upon what terms he had returned to me, eh? I will. Once more he would suffer that pang of death in life, for he had courage, ah! such great courage, and then, when the waiting for the next grew more than even his fearless heart could bear, I, who also had courage, and who loved him, should” She paused. “Do you understand?”

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

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 Harley nodded dumbly, and suddenly I found Val Beverley’s little fingers twined about mine.

“I agreed,” continued the deep voice. “It was a boon which I, too, would have asked from one who loved me. But to die, knowing another cherished the woman who had been torn from him, was an impossibility for Juan Menendez. What he had schemed to do at first I never knew. But presently, because of our situation here, and because of that which he had asked of me, it came, the great plan.

“On the night he told me, a night I shall never forget, I drew back in horror from him—I, Marie de Stämer, who thought I knew the blackest that was in him. I shrank. And because of that scene it came to him again in the early morning—the moment of agony, the needle pain, here, low down in his left breast.

“He pleaded with me to do the wicked thing that he had planned, and because I dared not refuse, knowing he might die at my feet, I consented. But, my friends, I had my own plan, too, of which he knew nothing. On the next day he went to Paris, and was told he had two months to live, with great, such great care, but perhaps only a week, a day, if he should permit his hot passions to inflame that threatened heart. Very well.

“I said yes, yes, to all that he suggested, and he began to lay the trail—the trail to lead to his enemy. It was his hobby, this vengeance. He was like a big, cruel boy. It was he, himself, Juan Menendez, who broke into Cray’s Folly. It was he who nailed the bat wing to the door. It was he who bought two rifles of a kind of which so many millions were made during the war that anybody might possess one. And it was he who concealed the first of these, one cartridge discharged, under the floor of the hut in the garden of the Guest

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 House. The other, which was to be used, he placed”

“In the shutter-case of one of the tower rooms,” continued Paul Harley. “I know! I found it there to-night.”

“What?” I asked, “you found it, Harley?”

“I returned to look for it,” he said. “At the present moment it is upstairs in my room.”

“Ah, M. Harley,” exclaimed Madame, smiling at him radiantly, “I love your genius. Then it was,” she continued, “that he thought himself ready, ready for revenge and ready for death. He summoned you, M. Harley, to be an expert witness. He placed with you evidence which could not fail to lead to the arrest of M. Camber. Very well. I allowed him to do all this. His courage, mon Dieu, how I worshipped his courage!

“At night, when everyone slept, and he could drop the mask, I have seen what he suffered. I have begged him, begged him upon my knees, to allow me to end it then and there; to forget his dream of revenge, to die without this last stain upon his soul. But he, expecting at any hour, at any minute, to know again the agony which cannot be described, which is unlike any other suffered by the flesh—refused, refused! And I”—she raised her eyes ecstatically—“I have worshipped this courage of his, although it was evil—bad.

“The full moon gives the best light, and so he planned it for the night of the full moon. But on the night before, because of some scene which he had with you, M. Harley, nearly I thought his plans would come to nothing. Nearly I thought the last act of love which he asked of me would never be performed. He sat there, up in the little room which he liked best, the

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 coldness upon him which always came before the pang, waiting, waiting, a deathly dew on his forehead, for the end; and I, I who loved him better than life, watched him. And, so Fate willed it, the pang never came.”

“You watched him?” I whispered.

Harley turned to me slowly.

“Don’t you understand, Knox?” he said, in a voice curiously unlike his own.

“Ah, my friend,” Madame de Stämer laid her hand upon my arm with that caressing gesture which I knew, “you do understand, don’t you? The power to use my limbs returned to me during the last week that I lived in Nice.”

She bent forward and raised her face, in an almost agonized appeal to Val Beverley.

“My dear, my dear,” she said, “forgive me, forgive me! But I loved him so. One day, I think”—her glance sought my face—“you will know. Then you will forgive.”

“Oh, Madame, Madame,” whispered the girl, and began to sob silently.

“Is it enough?” asked Madame de Stämer, raising her head, and looking defiantly at Paul Harley. “Last night, you, M. Harley, who have genius, nearly brought it all to nothing. You passed the door in the shrubbery just when Juan was preparing to go out. I was watching from the window above. Then, when you had gone, he came out—smoking his last cigarette.

“I went to my place, entering the tower room by the door from that corridor. I opened the window. It had been carefully oiled. It was soundless. I was cold as one already dead, but love made me strong. I had seen him suffer. I took the rifle from its hiding-place, the heavy rifle which so few women could use.

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 It was no heavier than some which I had used before, and to good purpose.”

Again she paused, and I saw her lips trembling. Before my mind’s eye the picture arose which I had seen from Harley’s window, the picture of Colonel Juan Menendez walking in the moonlight along the path to the sun-dial, with halting steps, with clenched fists, but upright as a soldier on parade. Walking on, dauntlessly, to his execution. Out of a sort of haze, which seemed to obscure both sight and hearing, I heard Madame speaking again.

“He turned his head toward me. He threw me a kiss—and I fired. Did you think a woman lived who could perform such a deed, eh? If you did not think so, it is because you have never looked into the eyes of one who loved with her body, her mind, and with her soul. I think, yes, I think I went mad. The rifle I remember I replaced. But I remember no more. Ah!”

She sighed in a resigned, weary way, untwining her arm from about Val Beverley, and falling back upon her pillows.

“It is all written here,” she said; “every word of it, my friends, and signed at the bottom. I am a murderess, but it was a merciful deed. You see, I had a plan of which Juan knew nothing. This was my plan.” She pointed to the heap of manuscript. “I would give him relief from his agonies, yes. For although he was an evil man, I loved him better than life. I would let him die happy, thinking his revenge complete. But others to suffer? No, no! a thousand times no! Ah, I am so tired.”

She took up the little medicine bottle, poured its contents into the glass, and emptied it at a draught.

Paul Harley, as though galvanized, sprang to his feet.

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 “My God!” he cried, huskily, “Stop her, stop her!”

Val Beverley, now desperately white, clutched at me with quivering fingers, her agonized glance set upon the smiling face of Madame de Stämer.

“No fuss, dear friends,” said Madame, gently, “no trouble, no nasty stomach-pumps; for it is useless. I shall just fall asleep in a few moments now, and when I wake Juan will be with me.”

Her face was radiant. It became lighted up magically. I knew in that grim hour what a beautiful woman Madame de Stämer must have been. She rested her hand upon Val Beverley’s head, and looked at me with her strange, still eyes.

“Be good to her, my friend,” she whispered. “She is English, but not cold like some. She, too, can love.”

She closed her eyes and dropped back upon her pillows for the last time.

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 CHAPTER XXXV AN AFTERWORD

HIS shall be a brief afterword, for I have little else to say. As Madame had predicted, all antidotes and restoratives were of no avail. She had taken enough of some drug which she had evidently had in her possession for this very purpose to ensure that there should be no awakening, and although Dr. Rolleston was on the spot within half an hour, Madame de Stämer was already past human aid.

There are perhaps one or two details which may be of interest. For instance, as a result of the post-mortem examination of Colonel Menendez, no trace of disease was discovered in any of the organs, but from information supplied by his solicitors, Harley succeeded in tracing the Paris specialist to whom Madame de Stämer had referred; and he confirmed her statement in every particular. The disease, to which he gave some name which I have forgotten, was untraceable, he declared, by any means thus far known to science.

As we had anticipated, the bulk of Colonel Don Juan’s wealth he had bequeathed to Madame de Stämer, and she in turn had provided that all of which she might die possessed should be divided between certain charities and Val Beverley.

I thus found myself at the time when all these legal processes terminated engaged to marry a girl as wealthy

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 as she was beautiful. Therefore, except for the many grim memories which it had left with me, nothing but personal good fortune resulted from my sojourn at Cray’s Folly, beneath the shadow of that Bat Wing which had had no existence outside the cunning imagination of Colonel Juan Menendez.

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text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Eads, James Buchanan

EADS, ēdz, James Buchanan, American engineer: b. Lawrenceburg, Ind., 23 May 1820; d. Nassau, New Providence, 8 March 1887. He began as a clerk in a dry-goods house in Saint Louis in 1833, and then secured work on a Mississippi steamboat in 1839. He early designed some useful boats for raising sunken steamers, and in 1861, when called to advise the Federal government, constructed within 100 days eight ironclad steamers for use on the Mississippi and its tributaries. He afterward built a number of other ironclads and mortar-boats, which were of considerable service to the North. He built an arch bridge across the Mississippi at Saint Louis 1867-74. His works for improving the South Pass of the Mississippi delta were successfully completed in 1875-79; and his great plan for deepening the river as far as the mouth of the Ohio by means of jetties has been demonstrated to be entirely practicable. A later suggestion, for the construction of a ship-railway across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, attracted much attention. In 1884 he received the Albert Medal of the Society of Arts, being the first American citizen to whom this honor had been awarded. Consult How, ‘James B. Eads’ (Boston 1900).


text: Bat Wing/Chapter I

title: Bat Wing/Chapter I


text: Bat Wing/Chapter II

title: Bat Wing/Chapter II


text: Bat Wing/Chapter III

title: Bat Wing/Chapter III


text: Bat Wing/Chapter IV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter IV


text: Bat Wing/Chapter V

title: Bat Wing/Chapter V


text: Bat Wing/Chapter VI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter VI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter VII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter VII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter VIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter VIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter IX

title: Bat Wing/Chapter IX


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Halstead, Murat

HALSTEAD, Murat, American journalist: b. Ross, Butler County, Ohio, 2 Sept. 1829; d Cincinnati, Ohio, 2 July 1908. At 18 he began writing for newspapers, studied at Farmers' College, near Cincinnati, and did local newspaper reporting on several Cincinnati papers. In 1853 he became manager of a department on the Cincinnati Commercial. The following year he acquired a pecuniary interest in the paper, which began rapidly to increase in circulation and influence. The Commercial combining with the Gazette, its rival, the Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette became the recognized organ of the Ohio Republicans. In 1890 he removed to Brooklyn, N. Y., where he edited the Standard Union. Later he was a contributor to magazines and as a special correspondent went to the Philippines during the Spanish-American War. He wrote ‘The Story of Cuba’; ‘Life of William McKinley’; ‘The Story of the Philippines’; ‘History of American Expansion’; ‘Life of Admiral Dewey’; ‘The Boer and British War’; ‘The War Between Russia and Japan’ (1905), etc.


text: Bat Wing/Chapter X

title: Bat Wing/Chapter X


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XIV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XIV


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XV


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XVI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XVI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XVII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XVII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XVIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XVIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XIX

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XIX


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XX

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XX


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIV


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Hesse, Hermann

HESSE, hĕs'se, Hermann (also known under the pseudonym ), German novelist: b. Calw, Württemberg, 2 July 1877, the son of the editor of a religious journal, Johannes Hesse. He became a mechanic, later a bookseller at Basle, where he simultaneously attended lectures on literature and the history of art. In his choice of petty burgher subjects, as well as in his warmth of language and treatment, Hesse reminds one of the Swiss writers, particularly Gottfried Keller. Since

1905 he has been living at Gaienhofen, near Radolfzell, on Lake Constance. His delicate delineation of moods and milieus perhaps fits him better for the German short story (Novelle) than for the longer novel. In him, there are many reminiscences of Adalbert Stifter; his mood of recalling the events of childhood, which seems to be a constant preoccupation with him, yields him material for delightfully intimate treatment in three of his romances, ‘Hermann Lauscher,’ ‘Peter Camenzind,’ ‘Unterm Rad.’ He avoids the narrative of striking or impressive clashes of interest, preferring the more calm and peaceful life of the ordinary citizen. From ‘Nachbarn,’ a collection of short stories (1908), is taken ‘In the old “Sun” ’ (translated into English in ‘The German Classics,’ Vol. XIX, New York 1914). His works include ‘Romantische Lieder’ (1898); ‘Eine Stunde hinter Mitternacht’ (1899); ‘Hinterlassene Schriften und Gedichte Hermann Lauschers’ (1901); under the title ‘Hermann Lauscher,’ (1908); ‘Peter Camenzind,’ novel (Berlin 1904; 50th ed., 1909); ‘Unterm Rad’ (1905); ‘Diesseits’ (1907); ‘Nachbarn’ (1908); ‘Gertrud’ (1908); ‘Umwege,’ short stories (Berlin 1912). Consult Kuhn, Alfred, ‘Hermann Hesse’ (Leipzig 1907).


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXV


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXVIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIX

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXIX


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXX

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXX


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXI

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXI


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXIII

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXIII


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXIV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXIV


text: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXV

title: Bat Wing/Chapter XXXV


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Page:Peter and Wendy.djvu/56

Rh build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stones. O Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story."

"Which story was it?"

"About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slipper."

"Peter," said Wendy excitedly, "that was Cinderella, and he found her, and they lived happy ever after."

Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been sitting, and hurried to the window. "Where are you going?" she cried with misgiving.

"To tell the other boys."

"Don't go, Peter," she entreated, "I know such lots of stories."

Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying that it was she who first tempted him.

He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes now which ought to have alarmed her, but did not.

"Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys!" she cried, and then Peter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.

"Let me go!" she ordered him.

"Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys."

Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but Rh

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Rh she said, "Oh dear, I can't. Think of mummy! Besides, I can't fly."

"I'll teach you."

"Oh, how lovely to fly."

"I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away we go."

"Oo!" she exclaimed rapturously.

"Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars."

"Oo!"

"And, Wendy, there are mermaids."

"Mermaids! With tails?"

"Such long tails."

"Oh," cried Wendy, "to see a mermaid!"

He had become frightfully cunning. "Wendy," he said, "how we should all respect you."

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

"Wendy," he said, the sly one, "you could tuck us in at night."

"Oo!"

"None of us has ever been tucked in at night."

"Oo," and her arms went out to him.

"And you could darn our clothes, and make pockets for us. None of us has any pockets."

How could she resist. "Of course it's awfully Rh

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Rh fascinating!" she cried. "Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?"

"If you like," he said indifferently, and she ran to John and Michael and shook them. "Wake up," she cried, "Peter Pan has come and he is to teach us to fly."

John rubbed his eyes. "Then I shall get up," he said. Of course he was on the floor already. "Hallo," he said, "I am up!"

Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knife with six blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence. Their faces assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from the grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was right. No, stop! Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking distressfully all the evening, was quiet now. It was her silence they had heard!

"Out with the light! Hide! Quick!" cried John, taking command for the only time throughout the whole adventure. And thus when Liza entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very dark, and you could have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates breathing angelically as they slept. They were really doing it artfully from behind the window curtains.

Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing the Christmas puddings in the kitchen, and had been drawn away from them, with a raisin still on Rh

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Rh her cheek, by Nana's absurd suspicions. She thought the best way of getting a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment, but in custody of course.

"There, you suspicious brute," she said, not sorry that Nana was in disgrace. "They are perfectly safe, aren't they? Every one of the little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to their gentle breathing."

Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudly that they were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing, and she tried to drag herself out of Liza's clutches.

But Liza was dense. "No more of it, Nana," she said sternly, pulling her out of the room. "I warn you if you bark again I shall go straight for master and missus and bring them home from the party, and then, oh, won't master whip you, just."

She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you think Nana ceased to bark? Bring master and missus home from the party? Why, that was just what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipped so long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Liza returned to her puddings, and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained and strained at the chain until at last she broke it. In another moment she had burst into the dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to heaven, her most expressive way of making a  Rh

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Rh. Mr. and Mrs. Darling knew at once that something terrible was happening in their nursery, and without a good-bye to their hostess they rushed into the street.

But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had been breathing behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in ten minutes.

We now return to the nursery.

"It's all right," John announced, emerging from his hiding-place. "I say, Peter, can you really fly?"

Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew round the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way.

"How topping!" said John and Michael.

"How sweet!" cried Wendy.

"Yes, I'm sweet, oh, I am sweet!" said Peter, forgetting his manners again.

It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it first from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

"I say, how do you do it?" asked John, rubbing his knee. He was quite a practical boy.

"You just think lovely wonderful thoughts," Peter explained, "and they lift you up in the air."

He showed them again.

"You're so nippy at it," John said, "couldn't you do it very slowly once?"

Peter did it both slowly and quickly. "I've got Rh

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Rh it now, Wendy!" cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly an inch, though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter did not know A from Z.

Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each of them, with the most superb results.

"Now just wriggle your shoulders this way," he said, "and let go."

They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first. He did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was borne across the room.

"I flewed!" he screamed while still in mid-air. John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.

"Oh, lovely!"

"Oh, ripping!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there is almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at first, but had to desist, Tink was so indignant. Rh

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text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Lexow, Clarence

LEXOW, lĕk'sow, Clarence, American lawyer and politician: b. Brooklyn, N. Y., 16 Sept. 1852; d. 1910. He studied abroad and at the Columbia Law School, where he was graduated in 1872. He was admitted to the bar and established practice in New York city, receiving a large German-American patronage and engaging in many important litigations. In 1882 he became a resident of Nyack and was active in the Republican party there. In 1890 he was an unsuccessful nominee for Congress, but lowered the usual Democratic majority. In

1893 he was elected to the State senate where he served till 1898. Here he at once became a leader, was chairman of the committee on internal affairs and introduced the bi-partisan police bill calling for an investigation of the New York city police. This led to the appointment of the so-called “Lexow Committee,” of which he was head; the investigations of this committee brought to light the system of protection of vice by the police in New York and were the direct cause of the reform campaign and the election of Mayor Strong. Lexow was also the introducer of the bill creating the city of Greater New York, was chairman of the joint legislative committee for the investigation of trusts and unlawful combinations, of the committee on primary elections reform and of the judiciary committee. In 1896 he was chairman of the committee on resolutions at the Republican State convention and introduced the gold standard plank in the platform; in 1900 he was a presidential elector. He is author of reports on ‘Municipal Government’ (5 vols., 1895) and on ‘Trusts and Unlawful Combinations’ (1895).


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Page:Peter and Wendy.djvu/62

Rh Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Wendy's word.

"I say," cried John, "why shouldn't we all go out!"

Of course it was to this that Peter had been luring them.

Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it took him to do a billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.

"Mermaids!" said Peter again.

"Oo!"

"And there are pirates."

"Pirates," cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, "let us go at once!"

It was just at this moment that Mr. and Mrs. Darling hurried with Nana out of 27. They ran into the middle of the street to look up at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, but the room was ablaze with light, and most heart-gripping sight of all, they could see in shadow on the curtain three little figures in night attire circling round and round, not on the floor but in the air.

Not three figures, four!

In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr. Darling would have rushed upstairs, but Mrs. Darling signed to him to go softly. She even tried to make her heart go softly.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful for them, and we shall all breathe a Rh

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 {|style="float: right;"
 * Peter and Wendy pg 63.jpg
 * THE BIRDS WERE FLOWN
 * }
 * }

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Rh sigh of relief, but there will be no story. On the other hand, if they are not in time, I solemnly promise that it will all come right in the end.

They would have reached the nursery in time had it not been that the little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew the window open, and that smallest star of all called out:

"Cave, Peter!"

Peter knew that there was not a moment to lose. "Come," he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into the night, followed by John and Michael and Wendy.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown. Rh

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 CHAPTER IV

THE FLIGHT

" to the right, and straight on till morning."

That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; but even birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said anything that came into his head.

At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were the delights of flying that they wasted time circling round church spires or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy.

John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start.

They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they had thought themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round a room.

Not so long ago. But how long ago? They were flying over the sea before this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John thought it was their second sea and their third night. Rh

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Rh Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now they were very cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at times, or were they merely pretending, because Peter had such a jolly new way of feeding them? His way was to pursue birds who had food in their mouths suitable for humans and snatch it from them; then the birds would follow and snatch it back; and they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of goodwill. But Wendy noticed with gentle concern that Peter did not seem to know that this was rather an odd way of getting your bread and butter, nor even that there are other ways.

Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were sleepy; and that was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down they fell. The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny.

"There he goes again!" he would cry gleefully, as Michael suddenly dropped like a stone.

"Save him, save him!" cried Wendy, looking with horror at the cruel sea far below. Eventually Peter would dive through the air, and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that engrossed him one moment would Rh

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Rh cease to engage him, so there was always the possibility that the next time you fell he would let you go.

He could sleep in the air without falling, by merely lying on his back and floating, but this was, partly at least, because he was so light that if you got behind him and blew he went faster.

"Do be more polite to him," Wendy whispered to John, when they were playing "Follow my Leader."

"Then tell him to stop showing off," said John.

When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly close to the water and touch each shark's tail in passing, just as in the street you may run your finger along an iron railing. They could not follow him in this with much success, so perhaps it was rather like showing off, especially as he kept looking behind to see how many tails they missed.

"You must be nice to him," Wendy impressed on her brothers. "What could we do if he were to leave us!"

"We could go back," Michael said.

"How could we ever find our way back without him?"

"Well, then, we could go on," said John.

"That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, for we don't know how to stop."

This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop. Rh

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Rh John said that if the worst came to the worst, all they had to do was to go straight on, for the world was round, and so in time they must come back to their own window.

"And who is to get food for us, John?"

"I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth pretty neatly, Wendy."

"After the twentieth try," Wendy reminded him. "And even though we became good at picking up food, see how we bump against clouds and things if he is not near to give us a hand."

Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could now fly strongly, though they still kicked far too much; but if they saw a cloud in front of them, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly did they bump into it. If Nana had been with them, she would have had a bandage round Michael's forehead by this time.

Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to say for certain what had been Rh

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Rh. It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.

"And if he forgets them so quickly," Wendy argued, "how can we expect that he will go on remembering us?"

Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not remember them, at least not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw recognition come into his eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on; once even she had to call him by name.

"I'm Wendy," she said agitatedly.

He was very sorry. "I say, Wendy," he whispered to her, "always if you see me forgetting you, just keep on saying 'I'm Wendy,' and then I'll remember."

Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However, to make amends he showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was going their way, and this was such a pleasant change that they tried it several times and found they could sleep thus with security. Indeed they would have slept longer, but Peter tired quickly of sleeping, and soon he would cry in his captain voice, "We get off here." So with occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after many moons they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the island was out Rh

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Rh looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight those magic shores.

"There it is," said Peter calmly.

"Where, where?"

"Where all the arrows are pointing."

Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to the children, all directed by their friend the sun, who wanted them to be sure of their way before leaving them for the night.

Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to get their first sight of the island. Strange to say, they all recognised it at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom they were returning home for the holidays.

"John, there's the lagoon!"

"Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand."

"I say, John, I see your flamingo with the broken leg!"

"Look, Michael, there's your cave!"

"John, what's that in the brushwood?"

"It's a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do believe that's your little whelp!"

"There's my boat, John, with her sides stove in!" "No, it isn't! Why, we burned your boat."

"That's her, at any rate. I say, John, I see the smoke of the redskin camp!" Rh

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Rh "Where? Show me, and I'll tell you by the way the smoke curls whether they are on the war-path."

"There, just across the Mysterious River."

"I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough."

Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much, but if he wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand, for have I not told you that anon fear fell upon them?

It came as the arrows went, leaving the island in gloom.

In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the certainty that you would win. You were quite glad that the night-lights were in. You even liked Nana to say that this was just the mantelpiece over here, and that the Neverland was all make-believe.

Of course the Neverland had been make-believe in those days, but it was real now, and there were no night-lights, and it was getting darker every moment, and where was Nana?

They had been flying apart, but they huddled close to Peter now. His careless manner had gone at last, his eyes were sparkling, and a tingle went Rh

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 {|style="float: right;"
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 * THE NEVER NEVER LAND
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 and honoured life. Unfortunately the work on which he bestowed his higher energies, the frescoes in the House of Lords, are for the most part in a deplorable condition. Of his smaller work good specimens are included in the Sheepshanks bequest at South Kensington.

 CORNER, JULIA (1798–1875), writer for the young, daughter of [q. v.], an engraver, was born in London in 1798. She was the author of stories and plays for children, and of a number of educational works dealing chiefly with history, which are still extremely popular. Of her 'History of France' (1840), for instance, thirty-one thousand copies had been sold by 1889. All the histories have lately been revised and brought out in new editions, some illustrated with engravings after designs by Sir John Gilbert. Some of the plays for young people, mostly adaptations of well-known fairy tales, are now in a sixteenth edition. She wrote altogether over sixty books. The chief educational works that have been reprinted are 'The Play Grammar' (1848); the histories of England (1840), of Scotland (1840), of Ireland (1840), of Greece (1841), of Rome (1841), of Italy (1841), of Holland and Belgium (1842), of Germany and the German Empire (1841). The 'Historical Library,' in 14 vols., appeared first in 1840-8. Miss Corner died at 92 Clarendon Road, Netting Hill, London, on 16 Aug. 1875.

 CORY, WILLIAM JOHNSON (1823–1892), poet and master at Eton, was the second son of Charles Johnson of Torrington, Devonshire, and was born there on 9 Jan. 1823. His mother, Theresa, daughter of the Rev. Peter Wellington Furse of Halsdon, was a great-niece of Sir Joshua Reynolds. His elder brother, Charles Wellington Johnson (1821-1900), assumed his mother's surname of Furse; he was well known from 1894 till his death (on 2 Aug. 1900) as canon and archdeacon of Westminster. William Johnson received his education at Eton, where he was elected king's scholar in 1831, and Newcastle scholar in 1841, and at King's College, Cambridge, where he was elected to a scholarship on 23 Feb. 1842. In 1843 he gained the chancellor's medal, 'won by a casting vote,' for an English poem on Plato. In 1844 he won the Craven scholarship, succeeded to a fellowship at King's in February 1845, graduated B.A., and in September of the same year was appointed an assistant master at Eton, where he remained for upwards of twenty-six years. 'He will long be remembered as the most brilliant Eton tutor of his day,' says Mr. G. W. Prothero in his memoir of Henry Bradshaw. Among his pupils were Lord Rosebery and Sir F. Pollock. Between 1861 and 1865 Johnson took a leading part in the throwing open of King's College, Cambridge, previously an exclusive foundation, and in the introduction of mathematics and natural science into its course of study. He led the way to the creation of an exhibition fund by the gift of 400l., to which he afterwards made many additions.

In 1872 Johnson, who had two years previously inherited an estate at Halsdon, assumed the name of Cory and retired from Eton, resigning also his fellowship at King's. In 1878 he went for his health to Madeira, where he married, in August 1878, Rosa Caroline, daughter of George de Carteret Guille, rector of Little Torrington, Devonshire. He spent four years entirely in Madeira, and on his return in September 1882 settled at Hampstead, where he devoted much time to giving oral classical instruction to ladies, for his own sake as well as theirs. 'Women,' he says, 'are as divining rods to me; they relish everything that is taught.' He died on 11 June 1892, and was buried at Hampstead on 16 June. He left a son, Andrew Cory, born in July 1879.

Cory has a permanent and exceptional place among English lyrists as the singer of the affection of a teacher for his pupils. The first edition of his ‘Ionica,’ published anonymously in 1858, at first neglected, soon came to be sought and hoarded, and is now among the most prized of modern editiones principes. A new enlarged edition was reissued in 1891. In such pieces as 'Anteros' and ‘Mimnermus in Church’ emotional glow and pathetic tenderness are blended with indescribable charm. In the poems written subsequently, and published along with the original ‘Ionica’ in 1891, Cory has forsaken his ground of vantage, and appears as merely the elegant and melodious versifier. He practised Latin and Greek verse composition with consummate taste and skill; the original verses which accompany his ‘Lucretilis,’ a technical ‘introduction to the art of writing Latin lyric verses’ (2 parts, Eton, 1871), were pronounced by H. A. J. Munro ‘the best and


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Talk:Lexow Committee

Source
Google has a first volume ( http://books.google.com/books?id=E-kTAAAAYAAJ ) which it states to be 5766 pages in length, but I can only get up to page 1254. Perhaps there are further volumes with the rest of the pages somewhere. This page also appears on answers.com ( http://www.answers.com/topic/charles-frederick-lindauer-1 ) which attributes Wikisource, but oddly has more text at the beginning. Bob Burkhardt (talk) 01:42, 1 January 2011 (UTC)

I added the missing text and discovered that this page was mostly a duplicate of another Wikisource page, Charles Frederick Lindauer. So that explains the odd missing text. Since with the additions, this page now duplicates the other one (with corrections and deletions of markup not in the original facsimile), I have redirected the Lindauer page to this page. Now all that needs to be done is to find a place to link into it on Wikisource (at least two Wikipedia articles link to this article). Bob Burkhardt (talk) 23:24, 6 January 2011 (UTC)

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 Cope  ‘The Friends’ (two of his own children, (Charles and Charlotte), and in 1855 ‘Royal Prisoners’ (Princess Elizabeth lying dead in Carisbrooke Castle and her young brother). In 1856 he exhibited nothing, but he painted in oil ‘The Embarkation of a Puritan Family for New England’ (the pilgrim fathers) for the peers' corridor in the House of Lords, for which a fresco was afterwards substituted. A small replica in oils was also made. The big picture was sent to America, and Cope was made an honorary member of the Philadelphian Society of Arts. It is now in the National Gallery at Melbourne, Australia, having been purchased by the government of Victoria in 1864.

In 1857 Cope exhibited 'Affronted' (a portrait of his daughter Charlotte, which was engraved), and executed a fresco of 'The Burial of Charles I' in the peers' corridor. To this year also belong two designs from Longman's 'Selections from Moore,' and four for Burns's ‘Cotter's Saturday Night.’ In 1858 came ‘The Stepping Stones,’ and in 1859 a picture of ‘Cordelia receiving the News of her father's Ill-treatment,’ and the fresco of ‘The Parting of Lord and Lady William Russell’ in the peers' corridor. In 1861 the fresco of ‘Raising the Standard’ was placed in the same corridor. In 1862 he executed by the water-glass method the fresco of ‘The Defence of Basing House,’ and in 1863-4 that of the ‘Expulsion of Fellows from Oxford for refusing to sign the Covenant.’ In 1863 Cope was examined before the Royal Academy commission, and in 1865 he exhibited a study of Fra Angelico in oil, afterwards executed in mosaic on a larger scale at the South Kensington Museum. This he presented to the Royal Academy with his diploma picture ‘Geneviève.’ In this year his large posthumous portrait of the prince consort was hung in the large room of the Society of Arts. For many years Cope had been associated with the prince in his schemes for the advancement of art, and the artist in his reminiscences bears witness to the prince's invariable kindness. In 1865 and 1866 Cope finished his bust frescoes in the House of Lords: ‘Meeting of Train Bands to relieve the Siege of Gloucester’ and ‘Speaker Lenthall asserting the Privileges of the Commons.’ In 1866 he became secretary of the building committee appointed to make arrangements for the removal of the Royal Academy from Trafalgar Souare. In 1867 he was appointed professor of painting to the Royal Academy, and he delivered six lectures a year till 1875. In 1867 also he painted a third scene (moonlight) from ‘Othello’ (exhihited 1868), and was one of the artists selected to report on the paintings in oil at the great exhibition in Paris

In 1868, Cope received a severe shock by the loss of his wife, but after a brief visit to the continent he recommenced work and sent three pictures to the Academy in 1869. In 1871 he exhibited 'Guy, the Bookseller, consulting Dr. Mead as to the Plans of Guy's Hospital,' which was presented to the hospital, and he was one of the committee of artists employed in the decoration of Westminster Palace who reported on fresco painting in this year (see Return to House of Commons, 19 of 1872). He continued to exhibit at the Royal Academy till 1882, but perhaps the most important picture of this period was 'The Council of the Royal Academy-Selection of Pictures.' It was exhibited in 1876 and presented by the artist to the Royal Academy, to be placed in the council room, where it now hangs. It was in 1876 also that Cope was selected, with Mr. Peter Graham, to represent the Royal Academy at the centennial exhibition in Philadelphia. He took with him his son Arthur (now an associate of the Royal Academy), and on his return he delivered a lecture upon the proceedings of the 'judges', and also wrote an amusing account of his experiences in America, both of which are contained in his 'Reminiscences'.

In 1879 Cope left his house at Kensington and married his second wife, Miss Eleanor Smart. They settled at Maidenhead on the Thames in a house called Craufurd Rise. In 1883 he retired on to the list of honorary members of the Royal Academy, and ceased the active practice of his profession, though he still amused himself occasionally with painting, and as late as 1886 acted as examiner in painting for the South Kensington Schools of Art. He retained the vigour of his intellectual powers, his keenness of observation, and his humour till the end. It was during his last years that, at the request of his eldest son, the Rev. Charles Henry Cope, he wrote the 'Reminiscences' of his life which furnish most of the material of this article. The autobiography was completed in October 1889 and he died at Bournemouth on 21 Aug. 1890, after a brief illness.

Though not of the first rank, Cope was an artist of considerable accomplishment, versed in technical methods, a capable draughtsman and designer, and a good etcher. Engaged mainly on large historical compositions, and obtaining a ready sale for the smaller domestic pictures which occupied his lighter hours, he lived an industrious


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 Cope bought by William Beckford of Fonthill, and repeated for Lord Lansdowne. After visiting Siena, Verona, Parma, and Venice, Cope returned to England and took lodgings in Newman Street, London. He shortly afterwards removed to 1 Russell Place, where his landlord, a musical man, and his family, whose name was Kiallmark, sat for his models. Here he painted ‘Paolo and Francesca’ and ‘Osteria di Campagna,’ which were exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1837 and 1838 respectively. Miss Kiallmark sat for the principal figure in the latter. They attracted notice, and ‘Paolo and Francesca’ was bought by the Art Union of London, and the other by Mr. Villebois of Benham, who gave him for it 150l., a large sum to the artist at that time.

In 1839-40 he painted a large altar-piece (16 feet by 10) for St. George's church, Leeds, in a large room in Lisson Grove, formerly occupied by Haydon. It was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1840, received a premium of 50l. at Liverpool, and was presented to the church by the artist.

John Sheepshanks [q. v.] had been Cope's friend from boyhood, and it was at his house that he made friends with George Richmond [q. v.] and Richard Redgrave[q. v.] It was during his residence in Russell Place that the Etching Club was founded, of which Cope was one of the original members. While on a sketching and fishing excursion with Richard Redgrave in the valley of the Greta and the Tees, and living at Mortham Tower, he met the father of his friend Harrison (who had died), and it was at his house (Stubb House) that Cope met his future wife, Miss Charlotte Benning, the daughter of a surgeon with a large country practice. Despite much opposition from her mother, the marriage took place on 1 Sept. 1840, and the couple, after a brief occupation of furnished lodgings in Lisson Grove, moved to Hyde Park Gate, Kensington Gore, in 1841. While staying with his friends the Sulivans at Ashford (Middlesex), Cope had been much struck with a scene at a meeting of a board of guardians at Staines, and he made it the subject of a picture which was exhibited at the Academy in 1841. It was called ‘Poor Law Guardians: Board-day application for bread.’ It attracted a great deal of attention, but, to his surprise and discouragement, it was returned unsold at the close of the exhibition. It was sold two years afterwards for 105l. to the winner of one of the prizes of the Art Union of London.

Cope now directed his energies to the competitions for the decoration of the Houses of Parliament, and obtained in 1843 a prize of 300l. for his cartoon of ‘The First Trial by Jury.’ This success induced him to learn fresco painting. To the competition of 1844 he sent a simple and beautiful design of the ‘Meeting of Jacob and Rachel,’ and was one of the six painters commissioned in July of that year to prepare cartoons, coloured sketches, and specimens of fresco painting for the decoration of the House of Lords, and he received 400l. for his design of ‘Prince Henry, afterwards Henry V, acknowledging the authority of Chief-justice Gascoigne’ (see Return to H. of C. 23 of 1854). Cope received a commission to execute this design in fresco, and also another of ‘Edward the Black Prince receiving the Order of the Garter.’ Both frescoes were duly executed, but are now in ruins. These commissions were followed by others, and Cope was for many years so much engaged on his frescoes in the House of Lords that his only oil pictures were small and of a domestic character. He was elected an associate of the Royal Academy in 1843.

In 1845 Cope went with Mr. Horsley to Italy to examine the technical methods of fresco painting; he also went to Munich and consulted Professor Hess. In 1846 he visited Switzerland, and in 1848 he exhibited a large picture of ‘Cardinal Wolsey's Reception at Leicester Abbey’ (painted for Prince Albert), and was raised to the full honours of the Royal Academy. In this year he was engaged on the fresco of ‘Griselda’ on the wall of the upper waiting hall of the House of Lords. It is now in ruins as well as another from ‘Lara,’ afterwards painted by Cope in the same hall. A small sketch of the ‘Griselda’ was sold to Munro of Novar. In 1849 he exhibited ‘The First-born’ (life-size), which was painted for Mr. Dewhurst of Manchester. This is perhaps the best known of his easel pictures, as it was engraved by Vernon for the Art Union. Next year he sent to the Royal Academy ‘King Lear and Cordelia’ (painted for the ‘Shakespeare room’ of Isambard K. Brunel, the celebrated engineer), and in 1851 ‘The Sisters,’ sold to Mr. Watt, and ‘Laurence Saunders's Martyrdom’ in three compartments. Another ‘Marriage of Griselda’ was painted for Mr. Betts of Preston Hall, Kent, in 1852, and in 1853 ‘Othello relating his Adventures to Dessdemona,’ for Mr. Barlow of Upton Hall, Ardwick, near Manchester (afterwards repeated for the Duchess of Sutherland but sold to Mr. Leather of Leeds). In this year Cope was seriously ill from an internal tumour. In 1854 he


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Cooper to the poll. In the following year, when proceeding from Leicester to Manchester as a delegate to a chartist conference, he addressed the colliers on strike at Hanley. Passion ran high, and next day a serious riot took place, and Cooper was arrested at Burslem, but liberated for want of evidence. He proceeded to Manchester and, finding that a great strike had begun, urged his friends in Leicester to join in it. Some disturbance followed, and on his return Cooper was arrested for his Hanley speech and tried for arson. Acquitted on this charge, he was re-arrested on a charge of sedition and conspiracy. After an adjourned trial he was sentenced in March 1843 to two years' imprisonment. Most of the time he spent in Stafford jail. After his liberation he quarrelled with Feargus O'Connor [q. v.] and took no part in the further developments of the chartist movement.

When in prison Cooper wrote some tales and 'The Purgatory of Suicides,' a political epic in ten books, written in Spenserian stanzas. The poem is a poetical rendering of the ideals of the radical movement, and the circumstances and motives of some of the most famous suicides of history are used as the moral and political setting of the work. His efforts to publish his poem brought him into contact with Disraeli (afterwards Earl of Beaconsfield) and Douglas Jerrold, through whose influence a publisher was found in 1845. It reached a third edition in 1863. Cooper then turned his reputation as poet and cultured working man to account by lecturing to radical and free-thought audiences upon historical and educational subjects. While addressing one of these audiences in the hall of science in 1856, he suddenly broke off and announced that he had been reconverted to the truths of Christian evidences, and from that time, with the exception of a month or two when he was employed as copyist at the board of health, he was engaged as an itinerant lecturer on Christian proofs. In 1867 he was presented with an annuity by his friends. He died at Lincoln on 15 July 1892. He married in 1834, but his wife died in 1880.

In addition to the various papers with which he was connected, Cooper in 1850 conducted 'Cooper's Journal,' but only a few issues appeared. His chief works are: Cooper's collected 'Poetical Works' were published in London, 1877.
 * 1) 'Wise Saws and Modern Instances,' London, 1845; written in Stafford jail.
 * 2) 'The Bason's Yule Feast,' London, 1846.
 * 3) 'Land for the Labourers,' London, 1848.
 * 4) 'Captain Cobbler: his Romance,' London, 1848.
 * 5) 'Bridge of History over the Gulf of Time,' London, 1871.
 * 6) 'Life of Thomas Cooper, written by Himself,' London, 1872.
 * 7) 'Plain Pulpit Talk,' London, 1872.
 * 8) 'God, the Soul, and a Future State,' London, 1873.
 * 9) 'Paradise of Martyrs,' London, 1873.
 * 10) 'Old-fashioned Stories,' London, 1874.
 * 11) 'Evolution,' London, 1878.
 * 12) 'Atonement,' second series of 'Plain Pulpit Talk,' London, 1880.
 * 13) 'Thoughts at Four Score,' London, 1885.

 COPE, CHARLES WEST (1811–1890), historical painter, the son of Charles Cope, a water-colour landscape painter, was born at Park Square, Leeds, on 28 July 1811. He was called West, and his only sister Ellen Turner, was called Turner, after the celebrated painters, both of whom were friends of his father. His mother was 'a gifted amateur' in water-colours, and painted rustic figures. He was sent as a child to a school at Camberwell, and afterwards to Terry's school at Great Marlow, where he was bullied and his elbow was broken, which left him with a crooked arm for life. He was then sent to the grammar school at Leeds, where he suffered from the cruelty of a master. His mother died shortly after his birth, and his father from a coach accident in 1827. He entered Sass's well-known academy in the same year, and in 1828 became a student of the Royal Academy. He obtained a silver medal from the Society of Arts in 1829, and a second medal in the Royal Academy Life School, and a life studentship. About 1830 he had lodgings in Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury.

In 1832 he went to Paris with his friend Cornelius Harrison, and copied Titian, Rembrandt, and other 'old masters' in the Louvre. In 1833 he exhibited at the Royal Academy for the first time, the title of the picture being 'The Golden Age'. In September of the same year he started for Italy, and was absent nearly two years, visiting Florence, Rome (where he met Gibson, Severn, H. Atkinson, the architect Arthur Glennie, and other artists), Orvieto, Assisi, Perugia, and other places in Umbria, Naples and its neighbourhood, where he saw Vesuvius in eruption. he went back to Florence where he spent the winter of 1834 and the spring of 1835. Here he painted pictures on commission, including the first version of 'The Firstborn' which was exhibited at the British Institution,


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 manuscript at Nuneham. Fuller's Church History, 1655, xi. 119, 126, 131; Fuller's Worthies, 1662 (Northamptonshire), p. 291; Burnet's History of his Own Time, 1724, i. 19; Granger's Biographical Hist. of England, 1779, ii. 174 sq.; Middleton's Biographia Evangelica, 1780, ii. 406 sq.; Brook's Lives of the Puritans, 1813, ii. 356 8q.; Neal's Hist. of the Puritans (Toulmin), 1822, ii. 124 sq.; Heywood and Wright's Cambridge University Transactions, 1854, ii. 312 sq.; extracts from the University Register, Cambridge, per the master of Emmanuel, and from the burial register at Fawsley, per the Rev. P. W. Story.]

PRESTON, RICHARD (1768–1850), legal author, only son of the Rev. John Preston of Okehampton, Devonshire, was born at Ashburton in the same county in 1768. He began life as an attorney, but attracted the notice of Sir [q. v.] by his first work, ‘An Elementary Treatise by way of Essay on the Quantity of Estates,’ Exeter, 1791, 8vo. By Buller's advice he entered in 1793 at the Inner Temple, where, after practising for some years as a certificated conveyancer, he was called to the bar on 20 May 1807, was elected a bencher in 1834, in which year he took silk, and was reader in 1844.

Preston represented Ashburton in the parliament of 1812–18, and was one of the earliest and most robust advocates of the imposition of the corn duties. (See his speeches on the debates of 15 June 1813 and 22 Feb. 1815, Hansard, xxvi. 666, and xxix. 979, and his Address to the Fundholder, the Manufacturer, the Mechanic, and the Poor on the subject of the Corn Laws, London, 1815, 8vo, and other tracts in the Pamphleteer, vols. vii.–xi., London, 1816–18, 8vo). He had invested a large fortune, derived from his conveyancing practice, in land in Devonshire. In law, as in politics, he was intensely conservative, and thought the Fines and Recoveries Act a dangerous innovation; but his knowledge of the technique of real-property law was profound, and his works on conveyancing are masterpieces of patient research and lucid exposition. He was for some time professor of law at King's College, London. He died on 20 June 1850 at his seat, Lee House, Chulmleigh, in North Devon.

Besides the work mentioned in the text, Preston was author of: He also edited in 1828 Sheppard's ‘Touchstone of Common Assurances,’ London, 8vo.
 * 1) ‘A Succinct View of the Rule in Shelley's Case,’ Exeter, 1794, 8vo.
 * 2) A volume of ‘Tracts’ (on cross-remainders, fines and recoveries, and similar subjects), London, 1797, 8vo.
 * 3) ‘A Treatise on Conveyancing,’ London, 1806–9, 2 vols. 8vo; 2nd edit., 1813; 3rd edit., 1819–29, 8vo.
 * 4) ‘An Essay in a Course of Lectures on Abstracts of Title,’ London, 1818, 8vo; 2nd edit. 1823–4, 8vo.

PRESTON, SIMON (fl. 1538–1570), of Preston and Craigmillar, provost of Edinburgh in the time of Mary Queen of Scots, was descended from a family who possessed the lands of Preston, Midlothian, from the time of William the Lion. Sir William de Preston was one of the Scots nobles summoned to Berwick by Edward I in 1291 in connection with the competition between Bruce and Balliol for the Scottish crown; and his son Nichol de Preston swore fealty to Edward I in 1296. The lands and castle of Craigmillar, near Edinburgh, were purchased by Simon de Preston in 1374 from John de Capella. Sir Simon, provost of Edinburgh, was the eldest son of George Preston of Preston and Craigmillar and Isabella Hoppringall. He is mentioned as a bailie of Edinburgh on 24 Aug. 1538 (Reg. Mag. Sig. Scot. 1513–46, entry 1827), and filled the office of provost continuously from 1538 to 1543, and again in 1544–5 (Extracts from the Records of the Burgh of Edinburgh, iii. 295–7). On 25 Aug. 1540 he had a grant from the bailies and town council of the office of town clerk for life, which was confirmed by letter of the privy seal on the 27th of the same month (ib. ii. 100–2; Reg. Mag. Sig. Scot. 1513–46, entry 2193). On 5 June 1543 the queen-regent conceded to him, as son and heir-apparent of his father, and to Janet Beton, his wife, the lands of Balgawy in Forfarshire, and also the lands of Craigmillar and Preston, near Edinburgh (ib. entry 2926).

When the English invaded Scotland in 1544, many of the richer inhabitants placed their valuables in Craigmillar Castle, but the castle was surrendered by Preston to the enemy without a blow being struck. The author of the ‘Diurnal of Occurrents’ states that it was surrendered on promise to ‘keep the same without skaith’ (i.e. damage) (p. 32), but, according to Bishop Lesley, for a part of the booty and spoil (Hist. of Scotland, Bannatyne Club ed., p. 132); and Knox adds that ‘the laird’ was ‘caused to march upon his foot to London’ (Works, i. 121). In the summer of 1560 Preston went over to France,


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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Pulitzer, Joseph

PULITZER, pū'lĭt-sėr, Joseph, American journalist: b. Budapest, Hungary, 10 April 1847; d. Charleston, S. C., 29 Oct. 1911. He came to the United States in 1864 and joined a Federal cavalry regiment, serving till the end of the Civil War; then became a reporter on the ‘Westliche Post,’ which Carl Schurz had made the leading German newspaper in Saint Louis. Beginning upon the lowest round of a journalist's career, and at first enduring considerable hardship, he rapidly won recognition and rose to the position of managing editor and chief proprietor of the paper. In the meantime he had acquired a knowledge of law, had been admitted to practice and been active in politics in the Republican ranks. He was elected to the Missouri legislature in 1869, was a delegate to the convention of the Liberal Republican party at Cincinnati, which nominated Horace Greeley for President, then became a Democrat and in 1874 was a member of the Missouri State constitutional co n vention. In 1876-77 he was Washington correspondent for the New York Sun, and in 1878 bought the Saint Louis Dispatch and united it with the Evening Post as the Post-Dispatch. In 1883 he purchased the New York World, soon building up a large circulation. He was elected to Congress in New York in 1885-87 but resigned after a few months. In 1887 his health was broken, due to overwork, and was followed by a steady loss of eyesight until he became totally blind. Mr. Pulitzer's career as an editor was marked by great ability and genius. In August, 1903, announcement was made of the endowment of a College of Journalism by him at Columbia University. He also endowed several scholarships at Columbia College and gave largely to other educational and charitable causes.


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 To Cuba there returned one day a battered ship with a well-nigh exhausted crew. Sore wounded though he was and near to death, the captain, a gallant hidalgo named Cordova, was carried at once to Velasquez. Strange was the story which this man with his dying breath poured into the Governor's hungry ears. Cruising among the islands to the north of Cuba in search of slaves, he had been driven by a furious gale far to the south, and had reached at last an unknown coast. Here, instead of huts of reeds and rushes, houses of stone rose before his astonished eyes. Landing, he was met by natives dressed in the finest cotton, and decorated with ornaments of wrought gold, who greeted him with cold, unfriendly looks. "What is this country?" he asked in the Indian dialect of Cuba. The reply came in a strange tongue. "Tectetan," "I do not understand you." But to the Spaniards the country became forthwith Yucatan. Hostility did not stop at looks. So fierce an attack was made on the unwelcome visitors that it was only with great difficulty and loss they regained their ships.

Yet curiosity drove the undaunted Spaniards to persist in their efforts to obtain some nearer knowledge of this race so superior in civilisation and spirit to the ignorant and nerveless inhabitants of the isles. Coasting westwards from Cape Catoche, the eastern point of the large peninsula, they made several attempts to explore the country, but every landing cost them dear. Of the crew, half left their bones on that inhospitable shore, and but one man returned scatheless. 30

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 With absorbing interest Velasquez and his friends listened to the words of the dying captain, and when they saw the curiously wrought gold ornaments exhibited as proof of the romantic story, their eyes gleamed with the light of desire. It was at once determined to explore this new country which lay beyond the islands, and four ships were fitted out under the command of Juan de Grijalva, the Governor's nephew.

Leaving the port of St. Jago de Cuba on the first of May 1518, Grijalva, taking a more southerly course than Cordova, reached the isle of Cozumel, which nestles close to the eastern shores of Yucatan.

Here and on the adjoining mainland the Spaniards were amazed to find great stone crosses. Had the saints already vouchsafed to these heathen peoples some glimmering of the Christian faith? Could this be the blessed Island of the Seven Cities? In great excitement sailors recalled the ancient legend. It was said that a pilot, old and bewildered, reached one day in a battered ship the harbour of Lisbon. He had been driven by storms he "knew not whither," until he came to an isle in the midst of the ocean where were seven noble cities peopled by Christians who spoke the ancient Castilian tongue. They told him that they were the descendants of a band of Spaniards who had escaped from Spain at the time of the Moslem conquest. Led by seven bishops the exiles had embarked on the stormy ocean whither the infidels dared not follow, and they had made at last this beauteous island where each bishop had founded a Christian city. The old pilot, on his return to his 31

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 ship, was swept out to sea by a sudden storm, and saw no more of the mysterious island. But the legend of his strange discovery had never been forgotten, and now as Grijalva's men, following Cordova's track, coasted the peninsula of Yucatan, they watched out eagerly for traces of their long-lost countrymen. And Grijalva, as he caught glimpses here and there of white-walled villages, in his enthusiasm christened this fair peninsula, with its signs of the handiwork of civilised man, "New Spain."

On the southern shores of the great Mexican Gulf the explorers left their ships, and taking to the boats penetrated a considerable way up one of the rivers which the natives called Tabasco. Rounding a wooded headland they came suddenly on a large body of Indians glittering in warlike array. Their cacique, however, proved not hostile, but intensely curious as to his strange visitors whom he was evidently anxious to impress. He accepted their presents of glass and beads, and offered in return a rich treasure of golden armour. Continuing their westerly course the Spaniards had, to their great joy, many other opportunities for this lucrative trade. They explored several noble rivers, one of which they dubbed the Rio de Alvarado, after their most popular captain. On the banks of another stream farther to the north they were greeted by the cacique of a still more imposing native host, who informed them by signs that he was the subject of a mighty emperor whose people were called Aztecs or Mexicans. "The golden empire of Columbus!" thought Grijalva, resolving to despatch the thrilling news forthwith to 32

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 Velasquez. Alvarado, to whom he entrusted the message and all the treasure, sailed accordingly in the swiftest ship for Cuba.

Grijalva himself explored the coast still further, sailing as far as the river called Panuco. Many an unwonted sight the Spaniards saw in this new land. In one bright isle they entered a white stone temple and found on the altar the mangled limbs of a human being. In horror they made haste to sail away from this unhallowed Isle of Sacrifice. What, they questioned, can be the religion of this race who perform such horrid rites, and yet worship the sacred Cross? In a neighbouring island, which he named St. Juan de Ulua, Grijalva was tempted to plant a settlement, but, short as he was of both provisions and men, he realised that it would be a foolhardy experiment. Velasquez, moreover, who was a captious master, had only authorised him to explore and to trade.

Alvarado meanwhile, with his burden of treasure and his great news, set Cuba aflame with excitement and desire. The exultant Governor despatched his chaplain to Spain with a bounteous share of the gold, and a request that he might be empowered to conquer and colonise this rich country he had caused to be discovered. Without waiting for an answer, or even for Grijalva's return, he began at once to prepare a large armament. Intensely jealous in nature, he was resolved not to entrust this new expedition to his nephew, who had, he feared, already gained too much glory by the first.

When Grijalva returned to St. Jago de Cuba, after six eventful months, he met, therefore, to his 33

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 surprise and dismay, with but a cold reception. Bitter was his disappointment to find that another was to command the armament already equipped to open out the alluring land he had himself discovered. His services were calmly ignored, and he was reproached, most unjustly, for not having attempted more.

No conquest, indeed, had Grijalva made, no settlement effected, yet to him must ever belong the honour of being the first European to set foot on the soil of Mexico. Misguided was Velasquez to set aside so honest and faithful an envoy. Blind he was to choose as his new commander a man bold and resourceful, but possessed with an overweening ambition—Hernando Cortés! The longed-for chance had come!

Velasquez aimed at the impossible. He sought to make, by deputy, a great conquest, and yet to keep all the glory to himself. To secure this end he had chosen for his captain-general a man, as yet undistinguished, of no rank, and quite without political influence in the home-country. Cortés, he fondly hoped, would prove a useful tool and no rival, for did he not owe his present prosperous position entirely to the Governor's favour? He was, moreover, a man of enterprise and resolution, well fitted to lead an expedition.

On the twenty-third of October 1518, a few days before Grijalva's return, Cortés formally received his commission. He was solemnly charged to treat the natives with humanity, and to make their conversion his chief object. He was to inform them of the 34

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 "grandeur and goodness" of the monarch of Spain, and to invite them "to give in their allegiance to him, and to manifest it by regaling him with such comfortable presents of gold, pearls, and precious stones as, showing their own goodwill, would secure his favour and protection." He was instructed to make a survey of the coast, to send back to Velasquez full reports of the products and people of the new country, with any treasure he might acquire. Finally, he was to take "the most careful care to omit nothing that might redound to the service of God or his sovereign." 35

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Page:The Harvard Classics Vol. 51; Lectures.djvu/472

HE name of Blaise Pascal not only belongs to the list of great French seventeenth-century writers, he is also to be included among the greatest authors of modern literature. He affected radically the thought of countless religious men of his own and later times; he was, even though in part unconsciously, one of the masters of style in the chief age of French literature. Men of science, also, consider him one of the most important of their number as a mathematician and a physicist.

Pascal's name is inseparably connected with the history of Jansenism, and though varying phases of his intellectual development have caused him to receive all kinds of descriptive epithets ranging from skeptic to fideist, yet his temperament and his bodily condition reflect the austere and gloomy theories of the Jansenist Augustinians.

Born of high-strung stock in a bleak part of the volcanic region of Auvergne, under the very shadow of the gloomy cathedral, built of Volvic lava, at Clermont-Ferrand, the child Pascal was from the beginning over-intellectualized. If we are to believe the accounts of a perhaps partial sister, this "terrifying genius" as Chateaubriand calls him, taught himself geometry and worked out problems in Euclid, while he still called lines and circles "bars" and "rounds." His intellect developed by leaps and bounds, and by the end of a life of recurring illnesses and of suffering, cut short at less than two score years, he had encompassed the field of knowledge, verified hypotheses of physics, descried unexplored realms of mathematics, and projected his thought into the vast chaos of conjecture concerning the relations of God and the world, of God and of created man.

Pascal's adherence to religion was not immediate, and he went through successive stages of hesitation and of partial retrogression.


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Rh stirred men to ask fundamental questions about life. In his "Hippolytus" he shows his chaste hero brought to death because he will not yield to the goddess of love, and thus the poet belittles the sacred tradition; in "The Bacchæ" he exalts enthusiasm and inspiration above reason, not, however, without a certain cynicism at the end.

From the close of the fifth century philosophy began to take the place of the traditional religion for thinking men; yet philosophy did not break with the religious sentiment of the time. Eventually the spirit of individualism and cosmopolitanism destroyed men’s faith in the state religions, and although the ancient rituals continued to the end of antiquity, they never regained the position which they had in the sixth and fifth centuries B. C.


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{| class="__toc"
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 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the new Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in London, and the Belgian Charge d'Affaires in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the new Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in London, and the Belgian Charge d'Affaires in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the new Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in London, and the Belgian Charge d'Affaires in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the new Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in London, and the Belgian Charge d'Affaires in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the new Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in London, and the Belgian Charge d'Affaires in Paris

 * align=left|[[Diplomacy revealed/Explanatory Footnotes to Text|
 * align=left | PART VII. (1912-1913)
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris
 * align=left | PART VII. (1912-1913)
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in London, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, the new Belgian Minister in Berlin, the Belgian Minister in Paris

 * align=left|[[Diplomacy revealed/Explanatory Footnotes to Text|
 * align=left | PART VIII. (1914 to the murder of the Austrian heir-apparent.)
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London
 * align=left | PART VIII. (1914 to the murder of the Austrian heir-apparent.)
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Chronology of Principal Events
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London
 * align=left|Diplomacy revealed/Despatches from the Belgian Minister in Paris, the Belgian Minister in Berlin, and the Belgian Minister in London

 * align=left|[[Diplomacy revealed/Explanatory Footnotes to Text|
 * }
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text: Index:The book of try and learn.djvu

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Page:History of West Australia.djvu/555

Rh language concrete and abstruse, it is a welcome change to review the annals of one whose life teems with no ordinary human interest.

Mr. Newman was born in Liverpool in 1868, and received his education at Padcroft College near Windsor. He entered the service of Messrs. Crowther Brothers, merchants and mine-owners, Liverpool. This firm possessed extensive interests in Montana mines and in the Colorado silver mines of America. Mr. Newman remained in their employ for two or three years, till a serious illness which he had contracted in the interim necessitated his severing connection with them and his taking a lengthened trip round the world.

In New Zealand he became possessed of a desire to attach himself to gold-mining. He was getting rapidly convalescent in that salubrious and congenial insular climate, and his "quondam" energy and enthusiasm returned hale and hearty. To satiate a desire for prospecting, he travelled all over the Thames Goldfields, and examined with a curious eye the abandoned claims round Te Aroha and Wharangami. Being the first gold mines he had ever set eyes upon, it is not surprising that he gazed long at their features. Reflection mingled with imagination as he moved from the empty sepulchres of the golden dead.

He returned to England in excellent health, after an enjoyable and pleasurable tour. But he could not brook the narrow routine of English conventionality. He had tasted the sweets of perfect liberty and colonial freedom; and he went to Ceylon, where he had spent a short time in the course of his former tour. He engaged in planting there for five months, till an attack of fever forced him to sail for Albany, Western Australia, to recruit his health. He arrived at that port in 1893, when the first rush to Hannan's was taking place. It was strange news to him, for he had not previously heard of the Western Australian goldfields. Fortunately, he met Mr. Bayley at Albany, who informed him of the great auriferous wealth of Coolgardie and Hannan's. Encouraged by these auspicious tidings, he decided to go to the fields. Friends and acquaintances in Albany laughed at what they termed a futile freak, and tried to dissuade him from his purpose. Even the kindly old threat of "you will be sure to die" hurled at his undeserving head by those animated with the best of feelings towards his weal did not disturb his equilibrium nor thwart his intention. As yet his health could not be termed robust; but if the flesh was weak the spirit was truly willing. To keep his mind employed on this dreary journey, he speculated on the chances that the future had in store for him. He was not a little relieved when he met on the way the late Mr. Arthur Anderson, then manager of the Hampton Lands and Railway Syndicate (now the Hampton Plains Estate Company), whose excellent companionship was eagerly embraced. His description of his experiences on this maiden expedition is lively and interesting. His troubles and trials dated from the time that he alighted from the train at Northam. "For love or money," he says, "I could not obtain a vehicle to convey us for the remainder of the journey." By an interposition of fortuitous luck Mr. McDowell, the contractor of the line between Northam and Southern Cross, offered us a berth in the material train as far as Doodlakine, the terminus of the line. Luxuries in the way of cars and carriages were unknown in these rustic times. But Mr. Newman and his comrade felt perfectly comfortable, stretched on a bed of chaff piled on the top of general wares in the truck. They reached Coolgardie after an exciting journey of ten days' duration.

Mr. Newman confesses that upon his arrival, like many other fortune-hunters, he had very confused ideas as to the actual situation. His delightful imaginations about immediate wealth and all the other happy dreams that cross the uninitiated mind were soon dispelled by the cruel surrounding reality. He found the Golden Realm to be a disappointing combination of a few tents, and an absence of accommodation and conveniences. Having learnt his first lesson, he was not slow to put it into practice. He willingly accepted the offer of Mr. Anderson to explore with him the Hampton Plains blocks. He soon became skilled in detecting the faintest existence of gold. After gaining sufficient insight into the secrets of prospecting, he determined to strike out for himself, and with this intention he journeyed to Perth and purchased a camel. On his return he set out for the Mount Malcolm district, where he pegged out thirty-six acres. Unfortunately, he had to abandon this lucrative claim through want of water. One can imagine his surprise when a couple of years later, in London, he saw a "sandwich" man floating down Bishopsgate Street, with the notice gilded on his back—" Buy Shares in the Mount Malcolm Properties," which comprised the Juliet line of reef that he had to abandon, and which had now been successfully floated in London for £250,000, and from all accounts is developing very well.

In June, 1896, he went to London with the intention of floating a company on similar lines to the West Australian Company. His efforts were successful, and a company, called the Newman Exploration Company, with a capital of £100,000, was formed. The names of the signatories of this company are: C. A. Moreing, Allen H. P. Stoneham, Percy John Ogle, Cecil Campbell Drew, Henry Frederick, G. Weber, John Girdwood, and Lord Castleton. The company owns a large number of leases, which are being developed for flotation purposes. It holds, in addition, 130,000 acres of mineral and pastoral territory, 50,000 of which is freehold, and 80,000 leasehold. The territory lies in a very promising part of the colony (near Albany), through which auriferous belts run.

To detail all Mr. Newman's numerous experiences would be impossible, but the general tenor of those already depicted shows how coolly he could adapt himself to emergencies, "new chum" as he was. He is one of the frankest of men, quiet and unassuming. With a modesty that one should like to see more characteristic of other pioneers, he has accomplished tasks which would have daunted men more experienced than himself. His love for mining is innate. If one met him on the street, he would be apt to describe him as a genial, good-hearted Englishman, just arrived. Neither the hard life of his venturesome prospecting career nor the hand of sickness has changed him, notwithstanding that he has undergone all the horrors of thirst, the cruel exigencies of hunger, fatigue, torment, and misfortune.

Mr. Newman's generosity has won for him feelings of the deepest respect. He has a sound judgment, and has acquired a valuable knowledge of mining. His success on the goldfields, which shows as brilliant a record as any, could never come to one more deserving.

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Page:The book of try and learn.djvu/1

Welcome to proofread sandbox.

The idea is to give to any of you an environment where to try proofread procedure t i to copy and to format as carefully as you can but using the less formatting code and tricks. a text that you see as a front image Then you should try transclusion into NsO - t i to build a version of you transclusion into main namespace

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It's simple Any of you is encouraged not only to read this text but to rmte If agam while doing this you'll read this text much deeply!

As you can guess this text has bees written then converted into a jpg image then mounted into a dj vu file its name is File The book of try and learn djvu While learning proofread procedure you·ll be faced too with the issue of djvu file building t i to edit a djvu file It s an advanced topic but far from impossible So the sandbox character of this works implies too that you are free to add ne11 pages to t hrs djvu file so presenting to source community specific problems of formatting/tranclusion and looking for their solutions While appending new pages you are free to add both original pages of specific existing works or to do the same is being done here t i to write a text by your own then to have a snapshot of it to convert it into a jpg or a tiff image to convert it into djvu and to add it to File The book of try and learn djvu

The idea is to collect pages with increasing difficulty So this beginning page only contains some simple usual formatting issues how to enlarge characters how to obtain italic style Next pages will contain different ans subtler formatting issues The aim would be to collect here a complete gallery of formatting troubles But - this is the first half of work only You are encouraged to transclude too your "test transcriptions" into the NsO version of this sandbox that is named Sandbox text This is necessary since subtler issues come out often from tranclusion step.

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Rh not help smiling at the vivacity of her imagination, roused at the very name of flax; but there was still great space between the leaves lying before us and the linen she was already sewing in idea. But my boys, always ready to second the wishes of their beloved mother, soon mounted their coursers, Fritz on Lightfoot, and Jack on the great buffalo, to procure supplies.

Whilst we waited for these, my wife, all life and animation, explained to me all the machines I must make, to enable her to spin and weave, and make linen to clothe us from head to foot; her eyes sparkled with delight as she spoke, and I promised her all she asked.

In a short time, our young cavaliers returned from their foraging expedition, conveying on their steeds huge bundles of the precious plant, which they laid at the feet of their mother. She gave up everything to begin her reparation. The first operation necessary was to steep the flax, which is usually done by exposing it in the open air in the rain, the wind, and the dew, so as, in a certain degree, to dissolve the plant, rendering the separation of the fibrous and ligneous parts more easy. It can then be cleaned and picked for spinning. But, as the vegetable glue that connects the two parts is very tenacious, and resists for a long time the action of moisture, it is often advisable to steep it in water, and this, in our dry climate, I considered most expedient.

My wife agreed to this, and proposed that we should convey it to Flamingo Marsh; and we spent the rest of the day in tying up the leaves in bundles. Next morning, we loaded our cart, and proceeded to the marsh: we there untied our


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160, and spread them in the water, pressing them down with stones, and leaving them till it was time to take them out to dry. We could not but admire here the ingenious nests of the flamingo; they are of a conical form, raised above the level of the marsh, having a recess above, in which the eggs are deposited, out of the reach of danger, and the female can sit on them with her legs in the water. These nests are of clay, and so solid, that they resist the water till the young are able to swim.

In a fortnight the flax was ready to be taken out of the water; we spread it in the sun, which dried it so effectually, that we brought it to Falcon’s Nest the same evening, where it was stored till we were ready for further operations. At present we laboured to lay up provision for the rainy season, leaving all sedentary occupations to amuse us in our confinement. We brought in continually loads of sweet acorns, manioc, potatoes, wood, fodder for the cattle, sugar-canes, fruit, indeed everything that might be useful during the uncertain period of the rainy season. We profited by the last few days to sow the wheat and other remaining European grains, that the rain might germinate them. We had already had some showers; the temperature was variable, the sky became cloudy, and the wind rose. The season changed sooner than we expected; the winds raged through the woods, the sea roared, mountains of clouds were piled in the heavens. They soon burst over our heads, and torrents of rain fell night and day, without intermission; the rivers swelled till their waters met, and turned the whole country around us into an immense


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Rh lake. Happily we had formed our little establishment on a spot rather elevated above the rest of the valley; the waters did not quite reach our tree, but surrounded us about two hundred yards off, leaving us on a sort of island in the midst of the general inundation. We were reluctantly obliged to descend from our aerial abode; the rain entered it on all sides, and the hurricane threatened every moment to carry away the apartment, and all that were in it. We set about our removal, bringing down our hammocks and bedding to the sheltered space under the roots of the trees that we had roofed for the animals. We were painfully crowded in the small space; the stores of provisions, the cooking-utensils, and especially the neighbourhood of the animals, and the various offensive smells, made our retreat almost insupportable. We were choked with smoke if we lighted a fire, and inundated with rain if we opened a door. For the first time since our misfortune, we sighed for the comforts of our native home; but action was necessary, and we set about endeavouring to amend our condition.

The winding staircase was very useful to us; the upper part was crowded with things we did not want, and my wife frequently worked in the lower part, at one of the windows. We crowded our beasts a little more, and gave a current of air to the places they had left. I placed outside the enclosure the animals of the country, which could bear the inclemency of the season; thus I gave a half-liberty to the buffalo and the onagra, tying their legs loosely, to prevent them straying, the boughs of the tree affording them a shelter. We made as few fires as possible, as, fortunately, it


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162 was never cold, and we had no provisions that required a long process of cookery. We had milk in abundance, smoked meat, and fish, the preserved ortolans, and cassava cakes. As we sent out some of our animals in the morning, with bells round their necks, Fritz and I had to seek them and bring them in every evening, when we were invariably wet through. This induced my ingenious Elizabeth to make us a sort of blouse and hood out of old garments of the sailors, which we covered with coatings of the caoutchouc, and thus obtained two capital waterproof dresses; all that the exhausted state of our gum permitted us to make.

The care of our animals occupied us great part of the morning, then we prepared our cassava, and baked our cakes on iron plates. Though we had a glazed door to our hut, the gloominess of the weather, and the obscurity caused by the vast boughs of the tree, made night come on early. We then lighted a candle, fixed in a gourd on the table, round which we were all assembled. The good mother laboured with her needle, mending the clothes; I wrote my journal, which Ernest copied, as he wrote a beautiful hand; while Fritz and Jack taught their young brother to read and write, or amused themselves with drawing the animals or plants they had been struck with. We read the lessons from the Bible in turns, and concluded the evening with devotion. We then retired to rest, content with ourselves and with our innocent and peaceful life. Our kind house-keeper often made us a little feast of a roast chicken, a pigeon, or a duck, and once in four or five days we had fresh butter made in the gourd