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 accidental phenomena of modern commercial operations, nor has it been true in its investigation even of these. It has no connection whatever with political economy, as understood and treated of by the great thinkers of past ages; and as long as its unscholarly and undefined statements are allowed to pass under the same name, every word written on the subject by those thinkers—and chiefly the words of Plato, Xenophon, Cicero, and Bacon—must be nearly useless to mankind. The reader must not, therefore, be surprised at the care and insistance with which I have retained the literal and earliest sense of all important terms used in these papers; for a word is usually well made at the time it is first wanted; its youngest meaning has in it the full strength of its youth; subsequent senses are commonly warped or weakened; and as all careful thinkers are sure to have used their words accurately, the first condition, in order to be able to avail ourselves of their sayings at all, is firm definition of terms.

3. By the "maintenance" of a State is to be understood the support of its population in healthy and happy life; and the increase of

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 48 "Well, the Prince said you were to go, and so go you must," said Hacon Grizzlebeard.

There was no help for it, go she must; and when she reached the palace, they dressed her out so finely that no princess ever looked so smart.

The bridal train went to church, where she stood for the bride, and when they came back, there was dancing and merriment in the palace. But just as she was in the midst of dancing with the Prince, she saw a gleam of light through the window, and lo! the cabin by the wood-side was all one bright flame.

"Oh! the beggar, and the babe, and the cabin," she screamed out, and was just going to swoon away.

"Here is the beggar, and there is the babe, and so let the cabin burn away," said Hacon Grizzlebeard.

Then she knew him again, and after that the mirth and merriment began in right earnest; but since that I have never heard tell anything more about them.

on a time there was a king who had a daughter, and she was such a dreadful story-teller that the like of her was not to be found far or near. So the king gave out, that if any one could tell such a string of lies as would get her to say, "That's a story," he should have her to wife, and half the kingdom besides. Well, many came, as

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 Rh you may fancy, to try their luck, for every one would have been very glad to have the Princess, to say nothing of the kingdom; but they all cut a sorry figure, for the Princess was so given to story-telling, that all their lies went in at one ear and out of the other. Among the rest came three brothers to try their luck, and the two elder went first, but they fared no better than those who had gone before them. Last of all, the third, Boots, set off and found the Princess in the farm-yard.

"Good morning," he said, "and thank you for nothing."

"Good morning," said she, "and the same to you."

Then she went on—

"You haven't such a fine farm-yard as ours, I'll be bound; for when two shepherds stand, one at each end of it, and blow their ram's horns, the one can't hear the other."

"Haven't we though!" answered Boots; "ours is far bigger; for when a cow begins to go with calf at one end of it, she doesn't get to the other end before the time to drop her calf is come."

"I dare say!" said the Princess. "Well, but you haven't such a big ox, after all, as ours yonder; for when two men sit, one on each horn, they can't touch each other with a twenty-foot rule."

"Stuff!" said Boots; "is that all? why, we have an ox who is so big, that when two men sit, one on each horn, and each blows his great mountain-trumpet, they can't hear one another."

"I dare say," said the Princess; "but you haven't so much milk as we, I'll be bound; for we milk our kine into


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 50 great pails, and carry them in-doors, and empty them into great tubs, and so we make great, great cheeses."

"Oh! you do, do you?" said Boots. "Well, we milk ours into great tubs, and then we put them in carts and drive them in-doors, and then we turn them out into great brewing vats, and so we make cheeses as big as a great house. We had, too, a dun mare to tread the cheese well together when it was making; but once she tumbled down into the cheese, and we lost her; and after we had eaten at this cheese seven years, we came upon a great dun mare, alive and kicking. Well, once after that I was going to drive this mare to the mill, and her back-bone snapped in two; but I wasn't put out, not I, for I took a spruce sapling, and put it into her for a back-bone, and she had no other back-bone all the while we had her. But the sapling grew up into such a tall tree, that I climbed right up to heaven by it, and when I got there, I saw the Virgin Mary sitting and spinning the foam of the sea into pigs'-bristle ropes; but just then the spruce-fir broke short off, and I couldn't get down again; so the Virgin Mary let me down by one of the ropes, and down I slipped straight into a fox's hole, and who should sit there but my mother and your father cobbling shoes; and just as I stepped in, my mother gave your father such a box on the ear, that it made his whiskers curl."

"That's a story!" said the Princess; "my father never did any such thing in all his born days!"

So Boots got the Princess to wife, and half the kingdom besides.


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Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Schiff, Jacob Henry

SCHIFF, JACOB HENRY, an American financier and philanthropist, born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany, in 1847. He was educated in the schools of Frankfort-on-the-Main, and in 1865 he moved to the United States, where, after having achieved success in the banking business, he organized the firm of Kuhn,

Loeb & Co., which became one of the most important financial institutions in the United States and financed many important enterprises, especially the construction of railroads. Mr. Schiff later became a director of many large financial and industrial companies. His work as a philanthropist was done chiefly in connection with Jewish organizations, but

he also gave liberally to other causes. He was vice-president and trustee of the Baron de Hirsch Fund, a director of the New York Foundation, of the National Employment Exchange, and a vice-president of the New York Chamber of Commerce. He was the founder of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York; and of the Semitic Museum at Harvard. He also contributed $100,000 for a Technical College at Hafia, Palestine. He was actively concerned with the improvement of civic conditions in New York, and was a leading member of the “Committee of 70,” which secured the overthrow of the Tweed Ring. He did much toward the development of Jewish enterprises in Palestine and other countries. He died in 1920.

JACOB H. SCHIFF


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 194   MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Fame's outstretch'd wing may on the eastern gales Leave the proud Thames, and spread her whiten'd sails. While rifing empire rears her purple crest. Triumphant commerce hails the gladden 'd west, And steers her course to Zembla's frozen pole, Or lands in India, free, from the control Of base, monopolizing men, combined To plunder millions, and enslave mankind. From Florida to Nova Scotian shores She pours her treasures and unlades her stores; Round all the globe (he sails from sea to sea, And smiles and prospers, only when she's free.

But here the sweet enchanting vision fled, And darken'd clouds flash'd lightnings o'er my head; The seraph solemn stretch'd abroad her hand, The stars grew pale beneath her burnish'd wand; On her pale front disgust and sorrow hung, And awful accents trembled on her tongue.

Behold I she said, before these great events, Absorb'd in tears, America laments; Laments the ravage of her fruitful plains, While crimson dreams the peaceful villa stains.

The weeping matron sighs-in poignant pain O'er her last hope, in the rude battle slain-; The bleeding bosom of the aged fire, Pierc'd by his son, will in his arms expire; For death promiscuous flies from ev'ry hand, When faction's sword is brandish'd o'er the land; When civil discord cuts the friendly ties, And social joy from every bosom flies; But let the mule forbear the solemn tale, And lend once more, the "Grecian painter's veil,"


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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD the close-growing foliage will bear you almost as well as a carpeted floor. Eighty feet above the ground, I have thrown myself carelessly down, not upon a bough, but upon just the network of interlacing twigs, and rested as securely as if I had been lying in an enormous hammock.

Most of the cedars are crowded so closely that their growth has been very irregular. Sometimes two branches from different trees nib against each other until the bark is broken; then the exuding sap cements them together, and in the course of years they grow into each other so that you cannot tell where one tree ends and the other begins. Just over my tent two such Siamese Twins were joined by a common bough a foot in diameter. Near by I found three trees thus united, and another traveler reports having seen no fewer than four connected by a single horizontal branch which apparently drew its sap from all of the parent and foster-parent trunks. Even more remarkable is a cedar which has been burned completely through near the ground, and yet draws so much sap from an adjoining tree that its upper branches continue to bear considerable foliage.

The wood is slightly aromatic, hard, very close-grained, and takes a high polish. It literally never rots. The most striking characteristic of the cedars is their almost incredible vitality. The oldest of all are gnarled and twisted, but they have the rough strength of muscle-bound giants. Each year new [ 171 ]


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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON cones rise above the broad, green branches, and the balsamic juice flows fresh from every break in the bark. In the words of the Psalmist, they still bring forth fruit in old age, and are full of sap and green. "There is not, and never has been, a rotten cedar. The wood is incorruptible. The imperishable cedar remains untouched by rot or insect." This is not the extravagant statement of a hurried tourist, but the sober judgment of the late Dr. George E. Post, who was recognized as the world's greatest authority on Syrian botany. The whole side of one of the largest trees has been torn away by lightning, but the barkless trunk is as hard as ever. The single enemy feared by a full-grown cedar is the thunderbolt. "The voice of Jehovah … breaketh in pieces the cedars of Lebanon." One or two trees felled by this power have lain prostrate for a generation; but their wood will still turn the edge of a penknife. Here and there, visitors to the grove have stripped off a bit of bark and inscribed their names on the exposed wood. "Martin, 1769," "Girandin, 1791"—the edges of the letters are as hard and clear-cut as if they had been carved last season.

It is no wonder that the ancients chose this imperishable timber for their temples. The cedar roof of the sanctuary of Diana of Ephesus is said to have remained unrotted for four hundred years, while the [ 172 ]


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 Rh THE TWELVE WILD DUCKS.

on a time there was a Queen who was out driving, when there had been a new fall of snow in the winter; but when she had gone a little way, she began to bleed at the nose, and had to get out of her sledge. And so, as she stood there, leaning against the fence, and saw the red blood on the white snow, she fell a-thinking how she had twelve sons and no daughter, and she said to herself—

"If I only had a daughter as white as snow and as red as blood, I shouldn't care what became of all my sons."

But the words were scarce out of her mouth before an old witch of the Trolls came up to her.

"A daughter you shall have," she said, "and she shall be as white as snow, and as red as blood; and your sons shall be mine, but you may keep them till the babe is christened."

So when the time came the Queen had a daughter, and she was as white as snow, and as red as blood, just as the Troll had promised, and so they called her "Snow-white and Rosy-red." Well, there was great joy at the King's court, and the Queen was as glad as glad could be; but when what she had promised to the old witch came into her mind, she sent for a silversmith, and bade him make twelve silver spoons, one for each prince, and after that she bade him make one more, and that she gave to Snow-white and Rosy-red. But as soon as ever the Princess was


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 Adam Hill [q. v.], prebendary and succentor of Salisbury Cathedral, proceeding about 1572 to Balliol College, Oxford, where he studied for two years as a fellow commoner. He crossed to France towards the close of 1574, visited the court of Henri III, and procured letters of commendation to the emperor, Maximilian II. After some stay in Germany he returned home, and became a member of Barnard's Inn. He was admitted to Lincoln's Inn on 10 June 1581, receiving the privileges of a special admission on 25 July 1587 (Records of Lincoln's Inn, 1896, i. 93). On the death of his father he found himself involved in a lawsuit with the husband of his elder brother's widow for the possession of his patrimonial estates, and was ultimately compelled to take a younger brother's portion. In 1600 he proceeded to Scotland, and injudiciously solicited the intervention of James VI with the lords of the council. He had a favourable reception, and composed a thanksgiving for the delivery of James from the Gowrie conspiracy, which was presented to the king. His good reception aroused Elizabeth's anger, and on his return to England he was promptly arrested and imprisoned for a short time ‘as a dangerous member to the state.’ In 1601 appeared ‘The Right Way to Heaven: and the true testimonie of a faithfull and loyall subject. Compiled by Richard Vennard of Lincolnes Inne. Printed by Thomas Este,’ London, 4to, a work of a religious character, but abounding in adulation of Queen Elizabeth. The first part was reprinted in the following year with several alterations and additions, with the title, ‘The Right Way to Heauen, and a good presedent for Lawyers and all other good Christians.’ It was reprinted in Nichols's ‘Progresses of Queen Elizabeth’ (iii. 532–43). An undated reprint of the second part, ‘The True Testimonie,’ is preserved in the Bridgwater Library. It is prefaced by a dedication to James I, and contains a thanksgiving for the deliverance of the kingdom from the gunpowder plot (, Cat. of Bridgwater Libr. p. 321). Not realising much by the sale, Vennar, who had in contemplation a second journey to Scotland, proclaimed his intention of representing England's triumphs over Spain in a masque entitled ‘Englands Ioy.’ The broadside of the plot is in possession of the Society of Antiquaries, and has been reprinted in their ‘Miscellanies’ (x. 196). He announced that it would be represented at the Swan on 6 Nov. 1602, and a large company, including many noblemen, assembled to witness it. After taking the entrance money, however, Vennar disappeared, and the audience revenged themselves by breaking up the furniture. Vennar himself states that he was arrested by bailiffs when the masque was about to begin, but Chamberlain relates that he fled on horseback, was pursued, captured, and brought before Sir John Popham, who treated the affair as a jest, and bound him over in five pounds to appear at the sessions (, Letters, Camden Soc. p. 163;, Shakespeare Jest Books, 1864, i. 145). The episode caused much amusement. Vennar was universally regarded as an impostor and dubbed ‘England's Joy,’ a name which gave him peculiar annoyance. In 1614 he wrote a vehement protest, entitled ‘An Apology: written by Richard Vennar of Lincolnes Inne, abusively called Englands Joy. To represse the contagious ruptures of the infected multitude. … London. Printed by Nicholas Okes.’ The work is divided into two parts, of which the first is autobiographical, and the second relates Vennar's exertions to obtain the abolition of imprisonment for debt in England. The only perfect copy extant is in the British Museum Library, but it has been reprinted in Collier's ‘Illustrations of Old English Literature’ (vol. iii.). Collier inaccurately claims that it is the ‘oldest piece of prose autobiography’ in English. Several allusions to ‘England's Joy’ occur in contemporary literature, particularly in Ben Jonson's ‘Love Restored’ (1610–11), in his ‘Masque of Augures’ (1622), and in Sir John Suckling's comedy, ‘The Goblins’ (1646). A poem entitled ‘Englands Joy,’ commemorating the defeat of the Irish in 1600 under Hugh O'Neill, second earl of Tyrone [q. v.], by R. V., published without date, place, or printer's name, is sometimes attributed to Vennar, but may quite as well be the work of Richard Rowlands alias Verstegen [q. v.]

In 1606 Vennar was arrested on suspicion of an intention to defraud Sir John Spencer of 500l. on pretence of preparing a masque under the patronage of Sir John Watts [q. v.], the lord mayor. After that he avoided London, and lived chiefly in Essex and Kent. In spite of the exertions on behalf of debtors of which he speaks in his ‘Apology,’ Vennar himself perished before 1617 in ‘the black hole’ of Wood Street counter, in the most abject misery, the victim of his keeper's resentment (, Compters Commonwealth, 1617, p. 64). Taylor in his ‘Cast over the Water. … Given gratis to William Fennor, the Rimer,’ 1615, accused one Fennor of passing off as his own some manuscripts in reality written by   Poor old Vennor, that plaine dealing man, Who acted Englands Ioy first at the Swan.


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 52 christened, the Princes were turned into twelve wild ducks, and flew away. They never saw them again,—away they went, and away they stayed.

So the Princess grew up, and she was both tall and fair, but she was often so strange and sorrowful, and no one could understand what it was that failed her. But one evening the Queen was also sorrowful, for she had many strange thoughts when she thought of her sons. She said to Snow-white and Rosy-red—

"Why are you so sorrowful, my daughter? Is there anything you want? if so, only say the word, and you shall have it."

"Oh, it seems so dull and lonely here," said Snow-white and Rosy-red; "every one else has brothers and sisters, but I am all alone; I have none; and that's why I'm so sorrowful."

"But you had brothers, my daughter," said the Queen; "I had twelve sons who were your brothers, but I gave them all away to get you;" and so she told her the whole story.

So when the Princess heard that, she had no rest; for, in spite of all the Queen could say or do, and all she wept and prayed, the lassie would set off to seek her brothers, for she thought it was all her fault; and at last she got leave to go away from the palace. On and on she walked into the wide world, so far, you would never have thought a young lady could have strength to walk so far.

So, once, when she was walking through a great, great wood, one day she felt tired, and sat down on a mossy tuft and fell asleep. Then she dreamt that she went deeper and deeper into the wood, till she came to a little wooden hut, and there she found her brothers; just then she woke, and


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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD beams of the Temple of Apollo at Utica lasted almost twelve centuries.

Probably the wood is so enduring because it grows so slowly. When you are told that a slender shoot, hardly shoulder-high, is ten or twelve years old, you begin to speculate as to the probable age of the patriarchs of the grove. On a broken branch only thirty inches in diameter I once, with the aid of a magnifying glass, counted 577 rings—577 years. And some of the cedars are forty feet and over in girth! Certainly these must be a thousand years old, probably two thousand. We are tempted to believe that one or two of the most venerable were saplings when the axemen of Hiram came cutting cedar logs for the Temple at Jerusalem. The most rugged and weather-beaten of them all, called the Guardian—surely this hoary giant of the forest has lived through all the ages since Solomon, and from his lofty throne on Lebanon has calmly looked down over Syria and the Great Sea while Jew and Assyrian, Persian and Egyptian, Greek and Roman, Arab and Crusader and Turk, have labored and fought and sinned and died for the possession of this goodly land!

The trees rise on half a dozen little knolls quite near to the edge of the plateau; and within a few minutes' climb are a number of tall, steeple-like rocks which, through the erosion of the softer stone, have become almost entirely cut off from the main mass [ 173 ]


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 Rh straight before her she saw a worn path in the green moss, and this path went deeper into the wood; so she followed it, and after a long time she came to just such a little wooden house as that she had seen in her dream.

Now, when she went into the room there was no one at home, but there stood twelve beds, and twelve chairs, and twelve spoons—a dozen of everything, in short. So when she saw that she was so glad, she hadn't been so glad for many a long year, for she could guess at once that her brothers lived here, and that they owned the beds, and chairs, and spoons. So she began to make up the fire, and sweep the room, and make the beds, and cook the dinner, and to make the house as tidy as she could; and when she had done all the cooking and work, she ate her own dinner, and crept under her youngest brother's bed, and lay down there, but she forgot her spoon upon the table.

So she had scarcely laid herself down before she heard something flapping and whirring in the air, and so all the twelve wild ducks came sweeping in; but as soon as ever they crossed the threshold they became Princes.

"Oh, how nice and warm it is in here," they said. "Heaven bless him who made up the fire, and cooked such a good dinner for us."

And so each took up his silver spoon and was going to eat. But when each had taken his own, there was one still left lying on the table, and it was so like the rest that they couldn't tell it from them.

"This is our sister's spoon," they said; "and if her spoon be here, she can't be very far off herself."

"If this be our sister's spoon, and she be here," said


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 54 the eldest, "she shall be killed, for she is to blame for all the ill we suffer."

And this she lay under the bed and listened to.

"No," said the youngest, "'twere a shame to kill her for that. She has nothing to do with our suffering ill; for if any one's to blame, it's our own mother."

So they set to work hunting for her both high and low, and at last they looked under all the beds, and so when they came to the youngest Prince's bed, they found her, and dragged her out. Then the eldest Prince wished again to have her killed, but she begged and prayed so prettily for herself.

"Oh! gracious goodness! don't kill me, for I've gone about seeking you these three years, and if I could only set you free, I'd willingly lose my life."

"Well!" said they, "if you will set us free, you may keep your life; for you can if you choose."

"Yes; only tell me," said the Princess, "how it can be done, and I'll do it, whatever it be."

"You must pick thistle-down," said the Princes, "and you must card it, and spin it, and weave it; and after you have done that, you must cut out and make twelve coats, and twelve shirts, and twelve neckerchiefs, one for each of us, and while you do that, you must neither talk, nor laugh, nor weep. If you can do that, we are free."

"But where shall I ever get thistle-down enough for so many neckerchiefs, and shirts, and coats?" asked Snow-white and Rosy-red.

"We'll soon show you," said the Princes; and so they took her with them to a great wide moor, where there stood such a crop of thistles, all nodding and nodding in


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 Rh the breeze, and the down all floating and glistening like gossamers through the air in the sunbeams. The Princess had never seen such a quantity of thistle-down in her life, and she began to pluck and gather it as fast and as well as she could; and when she got home at night she set to work carding and spinning yarn from the down. So she went on a long long time, picking, and carding, and spinning, and all the while keeping the Princes' house, cooking, and making their beds. At evening home they came, flapping and whirring like wild ducks, and all night they were Princes, but in the morning off they flew again, and were wild ducks the whole day.

But now it happened once, when she was out on the moor to pick thistle-down,—and if I don't mistake, it was the very last time she was to go thither,—it happened that the young King who ruled that land was out hunting, and came riding across the moor, and saw her. So he stopped there and wondered who the lovely lady could be that walked along the moor picking thistle-down, and he asked her her name, and when he could get no answer, he was still more astonished; and at last he liked her so much, that nothing would do but he must take her home to his castle and marry her. So he ordered his servants to take her and put her up on his horse. Snow-white and Rosy-red she wrung her hands, and made signs to them, and pointed to the bags in which her work was, and when the King saw she wished to have them with her, he told his men to take up the bags behind them. When they had done that the Princess came to herself, little by little, for the King was both a wise man and a handsome man too, and he was as soft and kind to her as a doctor. But when they got


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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON of the mountain. One such group, known to American residents of Syria as the "Cathedral Rocks," is reached by following a knife-edge ridge far out over the valley. There is barely room for a narrow foot-path along the top, and a misstep would mean a fall of many hundred feet; but at its western end the ridge broadens out into a group of slender, tower-like cliffs. When you stand on the farthest of these there is a feeling of spaciousness and isolation as if you were indeed upon the loftiest pinnacle of some gigantic cathedral, though no man-built spire towers to such a dizzy height.

A half-hour of hard and, in places, dangerous climbing down from the cedars brings one to where the Kadisha River bursts from a cave in the rock. Like many another cavern in Lebanon, this is of great depth and has never been thoroughly explored. We contented ourselves with penetrating it a few hundred feet; for it was impossible to avoid slipping into the stream now and then, and the water, fresh from the snow-pockets on the summits above, was only twelve degrees above the freezing-point. The entrance is barely ten feet in diameter, but the cave soon divides into several branches, one of which is beautifully adorned with translucent stalactites and, about seventy yards from the mouth, leads up to a large rock-chamber. The river flows out from the mountain with great rapidity and, just below the source, leaps over a precipice in a white  [ 174 ]


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 56 home to the palace, and the old Queen, who was his stepmother, set eyes on Snow-white and Rosy-red, she got so cross and jealous of her because she was so lovely, that she said to the king—

"Can't you see now, that this thing whom you have picked up, and whom you are going to marry, is a witch? Why, she can't either talk, or laugh, or weep!"

But the King didn't care a pin for what she said, but held on with the wedding, and married Snow-white and Rosy-red, and they lived in great joy and glory; but she didn't forget to go on sewing at her shirts.

So when the year was almost out, Snow-white and Rosy-red brought a Prince into the world; and then the old Queen was more spiteful and jealous than ever, and at dead of night she stole in to Snow-white and Rosy-red, while she slept, and took away her babe, and threw it into a pit full of snakes. After that she cut Snow-white and Rosy-red in her finger, and smeared the blood over her mouth, and went straight to the King.

"Now come and see," she said, "what sort of a thing you have taken for your Queen; here she has eaten up her own babe."

Then the king was so downcast, he almost burst into tears, and said—

"Yes, it must be true, since I see it with my own eyes; but she'll not do it again, I'm sure, and so this time I'll spare her life."

So before the next year was out she had another son, and the same thing happened. The King's stepmother got more and more jealous and spiteful. She stole into the young Queen at night while she slept, took away the babe,


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 Rh and threw it into a pit full of snakes, cut the young Queen's finger, and smeared the blood over her mouth, and then went and told the King she had eaten up her own child. Then the King was so sorrowful, you can't think how sorry he was, and he said—

"Yes, it must be true, since I see it with my own eyes, but she'll not do it again, I'm sure, and so this time too I'll spare her life."

Well, before the next year was out, Snow-white and Rosy-red brought a daughter into the world, and her, too, the old Queen took and threw into the pit full of snakes, while the young Queen slept. Then she cut her finger, smeared the blood over her mouth, and went again to the King and said—

"Now you may come and see if it isn't as I say; she's a wicked, wicked witch, for here she has gone and eaten up her third babe too."

Then the King was so sad, there was no end to it, for now he couldn't spare her any longer, but had to order her to be burnt alive on a pile of wood. But just when the pile was all ablaze, and they were going to put her on it, she made signs to them to take twelve boards and lay them round the pile, and on these she laid the neckerchiefs, and the shirts, and the coats for her brothers, but the youngest brother's shirt wanted its left arm, for she hadn't had time to finish it. And as soon as ever she had done that, they heard such a flapping and whirring in the air, and down came twelve wild ducks flying over the forest, and each of them snapped up his clothes in his bill and flew off with them.

See now!" said the old Queen to the King, "wasn't I


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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD forty feet high, so delicate and lacelike in its beauty that it is known as the "Bridal Veil."

Farther down the valley, the monastery of Kanobin hugs the side of a cliff four hundred feet above the river-bed. This is literally "the monastery" (Greek, koinobion), and is one of the oldest in the land. It is said to have been founded over sixteen hundred years ago by the Roman emperor Theodosius the Great, and for centuries it has been the nominal seat of the Maronite patriarchs. In 1829, Asad esh-Shidiak, the first Protestant martyr of Lebanon, was walled up in a near-by cave. This unfortunate man was chained to the rock by his Maronite persecutors and about his neck was fastened one end of a long rope which hung out through an opening in the cave by the roadside. Each Catholic who passed by gave the rope a vicious tug, and Shidiak soon died of torture and starvation.

The valley of the Holy River is full of old hermits' caves; but these are now untenanted, and we found no monks even at the great convent. In a parallel valley, however, is a monastery which is still crowded and busy. Deir Keshaya boasts a printing-press, a good library and a staff of a hundred monks. This religious retreat has the most secluded and beautiful situation imaginable. It lies in a very narrow cañon hemmed in by sheer rocks. Yet, though surrounded by nature in its most grand and forbidding aspects, the narrow strip of  [ 175 ]


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 58 right when I told you she was a witch; but make haste and burn her before the pile burns low."

"Oh!" said the King, "we've wood enough and to spare, and so I'll wait a bit, for I have a mind to see what the end of all this will be."

As he spoke, up came the twelve princes riding along, as handsome well-grown lads as you'd wish to see; but the youngest prince had a wild duck's wing instead of his left arm.

"What's all this about?" asked the Princes.

"My Queen is to be burnt," said the King, "because she's a witch, and because she has eaten up her own babes."

"She hasn't eaten them at all," said the Princes. "Speak now, sister; you have set us free and saved us, now save yourself."

Then Snow-white and Rosy-red spoke, and told the whole story; how every time she was brought to bed, the old Queen, the King's stepmother, had stolen into her at night, had taken her babes away, and cut her little finger, and smeared the blood over her mouth; and then the Princes took the King, and showed him the snake-pit where three babes lay playing with adders and toads, and lovelier children you never saw.

So the King had them taken out at once, and went to his stepmother, and asked her what punishment she thought that woman deserved who could find it in her heart to betray a guiltless Queen and three such blessed little babes.

"She deserves to be fast bound between twelve unbroken steeds, so that each may take his share of her," said the old Queen.


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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON land along the river bank is rich with verdure, a veritable Garden of the Lord.

The monastery not only spreads along the face of the cliff, but penetrates far into the mountain. What you see of it from without is hardly more than the façade of a huge, rambling structure whose principal part consists of natural caves and chambers rudely cut in the native rock. Through a little wooden door we were admitted to the largest cavern, where we saw, hanging from staples set securely into its walls, a number of great, cruel chains. People who are possessed of devils are fastened here by the neck and ankles, and during the night an angel comes and drives away the demon. The treatment has never been known to fail; for if the morning finds the sufferer still uncured, that merely shows that he did not have a devil after all, but was just an ordinary lunatic for whom the monastery did not promise relief.

Back of the cedars, there are also many fascinating excursions. The ranges of Syria being geologically "old" mountains which are worn and rounded, you can, by taking a somewhat circuitous route, reach almost any summit on horseback, but it is much more fun to go straight up the steepest slopes on foot. About 2,500 feet above the grove is a line of gently rolling plateaus whose stones have been broken and smoothed by millenniums of snow and ice. You see acre after acre entirely covered with clean, flat [ 176 ]


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 Rh "You have spoken your own doom," said the King, "and you shall suffer it at once."

So the wicked old Queen was fast bound between twelve unbroken steeds, and each got his share of her. But the King took Snow-white and Rosy-red, and their three children, and the twelve Princes; and so they all went home to their father and mother, and told all that had befallen them, and there was joy and gladness over the whole kingdom, because the Princess was saved and set free, and because she had set free her twelve brothers.

THE GIANT WHO HAD NO HEART IN HIS BODY.

on a time there was a King who had seven sons, and he loved them so much that he could never bear to be without them all at once, but one must always be with him. Now, when they were grown up, six were to set off to woo, but as for the youngest, his father kept him at home, and the others were to bring back a princess for him to the palace. So the King gave the six the finest clothes you ever set eyes on, so fine that the light gleamed from them a long way off, and each had his horse, which cost many, many hundred dollars, and so they set off. Now, when they had been to many palaces, and seen many princesses, at last they came to a King who had six daughters; such lovely king's daughters they had never seen, and so they fell to wooing them, each one, and when


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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD fragments which measure from one to five inches in length. Viewed from a distance, their appearance is exactly like that of the soft surface of a wheat-field. The only vegetable life consists of tiny bunches of a low, hardy plant with wooly gray-green leaves. We saw one little butterfly fluttering about lonesomely in the vast desolation.

Sheltered from sun and wind just under the highest ridges are snow-pockets—great, funnel-shaped depressions which during the hottest summer send down their moisture through the mountain mass to the cave-born rivers of western Syria. One who has not been there would never suspect how cold it can be in mid-summer on these higher slopes of Lebanon. The direct rays of the sun are, of course, very hot, and the wise traveler protects his head by a pith helmet. Yet the gloomy gorges are always chilly, the wind is biting, and the nights are positively cold. When tenting among the cedars, I slept regularly under heavy blankets, and once or twice reached down in the middle of the night and pulled over me the rug which lay beside my cot. The first time we climbed the mountain back of our camp, the wind was so cold and penetrating that we could remain only a few minutes on the summit, though we wore the heaviest of sweaters and had handkerchiefs tied over our faces.

At another ascent, however, we were more fortunate, for we found only a slight breeze blowing on [ 177 ]


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 60 they had got them for sweethearts, they set off home again, but they quite forgot that they were to bring back with them a sweetheart for Boots, their brother, who stayed at home, for they were over head and ears in love with their own sweethearts.

But when they had gone a good bit on their way, they passed close by a steep hill-side, like a wall, where the giant's house was, and there the giant came out, and set his eyes upon them, and turned them all into stone, princes and princesses and all. Now the King waited and waited for his six sons, but the more he waited the longer they stayed away; so he fell into great trouble, and said he should never know what it was to be glad again.

"And if I had not you left," he said to Boots, "I would live no longer, so full of sorrow am I for the loss of your brothers."

"Well, but now I've been thinking to ask your leave to set out and find them again; that's what I'm thinking of," said Boots.

"Nay, nay!" said his father; "that leave you shall never get, for then you would stay away too."

But Boots had set his heart upon it; go he would; and he begged and prayed so long that the King was forced to let him go. Now, you must know the King had no other horse to give Boots but an old broken-down jade, for his six other sons and their train had carried off all his horses; but Boots did not care a pin for that, he sprang up on his sorry old steed.

"Farewell, father," said he; "I'll come back, never fear, and like enough I shall bring my six brothers back with me;" and with that he rode off.


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ooo

THIS, reader, is a book without guile. It tells thee, at the very outset, that I had no other end in putting it together but what was domestic and private. I had no regard therein either to thy service or my glory; my powers are equal to no such design. It was intended for the particular use of my relations and friends, in order that, when they have lost me, which they must soon do, they may here find some traces of my quality and humour, and may thereby nourish a more entire and lively recollection of me. Had I proposed to court the favour of the world, I had set myself out in borrowed beauties; but twas my wish to be seen in my simple, natural, and ordinary garb, without study or artifice, for twas myself I had to paint. My defects will appear to the life, in all their native form, as far as consists with respect to the public. Had I been born among those nations who, tis said, still live in the pleasant liberty of the Jaw of nature, I assure thee I should readily have depicted myself at full length and quite naked. Thus, reader, thou perceivest I am myself the subject of my book; tis not worth thy while to take up thy time longer with such a frivolous matter; so fare thee well.

From Montaigne; this 12th of June,

——ooo——

THE FIRST BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

The most usual way of appeasing the indignation of such as we have any way offended, when we see them in possession of the power of revenge, and find that we absolutely lie at their mercy, is by submission, to move them to commiseration and pity; and yet bravery, constancy, and resolution, however quite contrary means, have sometimes served to produce the same effect.—[Florio's version begins thus: "The most vsuall waie to appease those minds wee have offended, when revenge lies in their hands, and that we stand at their mercie, is by submission to move them to commiseration and pity: Nevertheless, courage, constancie, and resolution (means altogether opposite) have sometimes wrought the same effect."—] [The spelling is Florio's D.W.]

Edward, Prince of Wales [Edward, the Black Prince. D.W.] (the same who so long governed our Guienne, a personage whose condition and fortune have in them a great deal of the most notable and most considerable parts of grandeur), having been highly incensed by the Limousins, and taking their city by assault, was not, either by the cries of the people, or the prayers and tears of the women and children, abandoned to slaughter and prostrate at his feet for mercy, to be stayed from prosecuting his revenge; till, penetrating further into the town, he at last took notice of three French gentlemen,—[These were Jean de Villemure, Hugh de la Roche, and Roger de Beaufort.—Froissart, i. c. 289. {The city was Limoges. D.W.}]—who with incredible bravery alone sustained the power of his victorious army. Then it was that consideration and respect unto so remarkable a valour first stopped the torrent of his fury, and that his clemency, beginning with these three cavaliers, was afterwards extended to all the remaining inhabitants of the city.

Scanderbeg, Prince of Epirus, pursuing one of his soldiers with purpose to kill him, the soldier, having in vain tried by all the ways of humility and supplication to appease him, resolved, as his last refuge, to face about and await him sword in hand: which behaviour of his gave a sudden stop to his captain's fury, who, for seeing him assume so notable a resolution, received him into grace; an example, however, that might suffer another interpretation with such as have not read of the prodigious force and valour of that prince.


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 Rh So, when he had ridden a while, he came to a Raven, which lay in the road and flapped its wings, and was not able to get out of the way, it was so starved.

"Oh, dear friend," said the Raven, "give me a little food, and I'll help you again at your utmost need."

"I haven't much food," said the Prince, "and I don't see how you'll ever be able to help me much; but still I can spare you a little. I see you want it."

So he gave the Raven some of the food he had brought with him.

Now, when he had gone a bit further, he came to a brook, and in the brook lay a great Salmon, which had got upon a dry place, and dashed itself about, and could not get into the water again.

"Oh, dear friend," said the Salmon to the Prince; "shove me out into the water again, and I'll help you again at your utmost need."

"Well!" said the Prince, "the help you'll give me will not be great, I daresay, but it's a pity you should lie there and choke;" and with that he shot the fish out into the stream again.

After that he went a long, long way, and there met him a Wolf, which was so famished that it lay and crawled along the road on its belly.

"Dear friend, do let me have your horse," said the Wolf; "I'm so hungry the wind whistles through my ribs; I've had nothing to eat these two years."

"No," said Boots, "this will never do; first I came to a raven, and I was forced to give him my food; next I came to a salmon, and him I had to help into the water again; and now you will have my horse. It can't be


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 62 done, that it can't, for then I should have nothing to ride on."

"Nay, dear friend, but you can help me," said Graylegs the wolf; "you can ride upon my back, and I'll help you again in your utmost need."

"Well! the help I shall get from you will not be great, I'll be bound," said the Prince; "but you may take my horse, since you are in such need."

So when the wolf had eaten the horse, Boots took the bit and put it into the wolf's jaw, and laid the saddle on his back; and now the wolf was so strong, after what he had got inside, that he set off with the Prince like nothing. So fast he had never ridden before.

"When we have gone a bit farther," said Graylegs, "I'll show you the Giant's house."

So after a while they came to it.

"See, here is the Giant's house," said the Wolf; "and see, here are your six brothers, whom the Giant has turned into stone; and see here are their six brides, and away yonder is the door, and in at that door you must go."

"Nay, but I daren't go in," said the Prince; "he'll take my life."

"No! no!" said the Wolf; "when you get in you'll find a Princess, and she'll tell you what to do to make an end of the Giant. Only mind and do as she bids you."

Well! Boots went in, but, truth to say, he was very much afraid. When he came in the Giant was away, but in one of the rooms sat the Princess, just as the wolf had said, and so lovely a Princess Boots had never yet set eyes on.


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Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich von

SCHILLER, JOHANN CHRISTOPH FRIEDRICH VON, a German poet; born in Marbach, Württemberg, Nov. 10, 1759. After having studied medicine and

become surgeon in a regiment, he, in his 22d year, wrote the tragedy of “The Robbers,” which at once raised him to the foremost rank among the dramatists of his country. It was performed at Mannheim in 1782. But some passages of a revolutionary tendency having incurred the displeasure of the Duke of Württemberg, Schiller left Stuttgart by stealth and made his way to Mannheim, where, after various wanderings and many hardships, he got his tragedy of “Fiesco” brought out on the stage. The tragedies of “Cabal and Love,” and “Don Carlos,” were his next productions. In 1785 he went to Leipsic and Dresden, where he found many admirers. Here he wrote his singular romance called “The Ghostseer”

and his “Philosophical Letters,” and collected materials for a “History of the Revolt of the Netherlands Under Philip II.” In 1787 he repaired to Weimar, where he was welcomed with great warmth by Weiland and Herder, undertook the management of a periodical called the “German Mercury,” and not long afterward made the acquaintance of Goethe, which soon ripened into a friendship only dissolved by death. In 1789 he was appointed to the chair of history in the University of Jena, and besides lecturing to crowded audiences he published his “History of the Thirty Years' War” and engaged in various literary enterprises which had great influence on the literature of Germany. A periodical called “The Hours” and the “Almanac of the Muses,” to which the most eminent men in Germany contributed, belong to

this period. He also produced “The Song of the Bell,” “Cranes of Ibykus,” and wrote his “Ballads,” reckoned among the finest compositions of their kind in any language. About 1790 he exhibited a strong tendency to consumption, which, by precluding him from lecturing, greatly reduced his income. The Prince of Denmark settled on him a pension of $1,000 for three years, and thus enabled him to pursue his studies. He soon after settled at Weimar, in order to direct the theater in conjunction with Goethe; and here at intervals he published the following works: “Wallenstein,” “Mary Stuart,” “Joan of Arc,” and “William Tell.” He died in Weimar, Germany, May 9, 1805.

JOHANN CHRISTOPH F. VON SCHILLER


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 Rh "Oh! heaven help you! whence have you come?" said the Princess, as she saw him; "it will surely be your death. No one can make an end of the Giant who lives here, for he has no heart in his body."

"Well! well!" said Boots; "but now that I am here, I may as well try what I can do with him; and I will see if I can't free my brothers, who are standing turned to stone out of doors; and you, too, I will try to save, that I will."

"Well, if you must, you must," said the Princess; "and so let us see if we can't hit on a plan. Just creep under the bed yonder, and mind and listen to what he and I talk about. But, pray, do lie as still as a mouse."

So he crept under the bed, and he had scarce got well underneath it, before the Giant came.

"Ha!" roared the Giant, "what a smell of Christian blood there is in the house!"

"Yes, I know there is," said the Princess, "for there came a magpie flying with a man's bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out, but all one can do, the smell doesn't go off so soon."

So the Giant said no more about it, and when night came, they went to bed. After they had lain a while, the Princess said—

"There is one thing I'd be so glad to ask you about, if I only dared."

"What thing is that?" asked the Giant.

"Only where it is you keep your heart, since you don't carry it about you," said the Princess.

"Ah! that's a thing you've no business to ask about;


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 64 but if you must know, it lies under the door-sill," said the Giant.

"Ho! ho!" said Boots to himself under the bed, "then we'll soon see if we can't find it."

Next morning the Giant got up cruelly early, and strode off to the wood; but he was hardly out of the house before Boots and the Princess set to work to look under the door-sill for his heart; but the more they dug, and the more they hunted, the more they couldn't find it.

"He has baulked us this time," said the Princess, "but we'll try him once more."

So she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find, and strewed them over the door-sill, which they had laid in its right place again; and when the time came for the giant to come home again, Boots crept under the bed. Just as he was well under, back came the Giant.

Snuff—snuff, went the Giant's nose. "My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there is in here," said he.

"I know there is," said the Princess, "for there came a magpie flying with a man's bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made as much haste as I could to get it out, but I daresay it's that you smell."

So the Giant held his peace, and said no more about it. A little while after, he asked who it was that had strewed flowers about the door-sill.

"Oh, I, of course," said the Princess.

"And, pray, what's the meaning of all this?" said the Giant.

"Ah!" said the Princess, "I'm so fond of you that I


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Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Schinner, Augustin Francis

SCHINNER, AUGUSTIN FRANCIS, an American Roman Catholic bishop, born in Milwaukee, Wis., in 1863. He was educated at St. Francis Seminary, and was ordained priest in 1886. After serving for one year as a pastor, he was a member of the faculty of St. Francis Seminary from 1887 to 1893. From 1893 to 1905 he was chancellor and vicar general of the archdiocese of Milwaukee. He was consecrated first bishop of Superior, Wis., in 1905, but resigned in 1913, and in the following year was appointed first bishop of Spokane.


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The Emperor Conrad III. having besieged Guelph, Duke of Bavaria,--[In 1140, in Weinsberg, Upper Bavaria.]--would not be prevailed upon, what mean and unmanly satisfactions soever were tendered to him, to condescend to milder conditions than that the ladies and gentlewomen only who were in the town with the duke might go out without violation of their honour, on foot, and with so much only as they could carry about them. Whereupon they, out of magnanimity of heart, presently contrived to carry out, upon their shoulders, their husbands and children, and the duke himself; a sight at which the emperor was so pleased, that, ravished with the generosity of the action, he wept for joy, and immediately extinguishing in his heart the mortal and capital hatred he had conceived against this duke, he from that time forward treated him and his with all humanity. The one and the other of these two ways would with great facility work upon my nature; for I have a marvellous propensity to mercy and mildness, and to such a degree that I fancy of the two I should sooner surrender my anger to compassion than to esteem. And yet pity is reputed a vice amongst the Stoics, who will that we succour the afflicted, but not that we should be so affected with their sufferings as to suffer with them. I conceived these examples not ill suited to the question in hand, and the rather because therein we observe these great souls assaulted and tried by these two several ways, to resist the one without relenting, and to be shook and subjected by the other. It may be true that to suffer a man's heart to be totally subdued by compassion may be imputed to facility, effeminacy, and over-tenderness; whence it comes to pass that the weaker natures, as of women, children, and the common sort of people, are the most subject to it but after having resisted and disdained the power of groans and tears, to yield to the sole reverence of the sacred image of Valour, this can be no other than the effect of a strong and inflexible soul enamoured of and honouring masculine and obstinate courage. Nevertheless, astonishment and admiration may, in less generous minds, beget a like effect: witness the people of Thebes, who, having put two of their generals upon trial for their lives for having continued in arms beyond the precise term of their commission, very hardly pardoned Pelopidas, who, bowing under the weight of so dangerous an accusation, made no manner of defence for himself, nor produced other arguments than prayers and supplications; whereas, on the contrary, Epaminondas, falling to recount magniloquently the exploits he had performed in their service, and, after a haughty and arrogant manner reproaching them with ingratitude and injustice, they had not the heart to proceed any further in his trial, but broke up the court and departed, the whole assembly highly commending the high courage of this personage.--[Plutarch, How far a Man may praise Himself, c. 5.]

Dionysius the elder, after having, by a tedious siege and through exceeding great difficulties, taken the city of Reggio, and in it the governor Phyton, a very gallant man, who had made so obstinate a defence, was resolved to make him a tragical example of his revenge: in order whereunto he first told him, "That he had the day before caused his son and all his kindred to be drowned." To which Phyton returned no other answer but this: "That they were then by one day happier than he." After which, causing him to be stripped, and delivering him into the hands of the tormentors, he was by them not only dragged through the streets of the town, and most ignominiously and cruelly whipped, but moreover vilified with most bitter and contumelious language: yet still he maintained his courage entire all the way, with a strong voice and undaunted countenance proclaiming the honourable and glorious cause of his death; namely, for that he would not deliver up his country into the hands of a tyrant; at the same time denouncing against him a speedy chastisement from the offended gods. At which Dionysius, reading in his soldiers' looks, that instead of being incensed at the haughty language of this conquered enemy, to the contempt of their captain and his triumph, they were not only struck with admiration of so rare a virtue, but moreover inclined to mutiny, and were even ready to rescue the prisoner out of the hangman's hands, he caused the torturing to cease, and afterwards privately caused him to be thrown into the sea.--[Diod. Sic., xiv. 29.]

Man (in good earnest) is a marvellous vain, fickle, and unstable subject, and on whom it is very hard to form any certain and uniform judgment. For Pompey could pardon the whole city of the Mamertines, though furiously incensed against it, upon the single account of the virtue and magnanimity of one citizen, Zeno,--[Plutarch calls him Stheno, and also Sthemnus and Sthenis]--who took the fault of the public wholly upon himself; neither entreated other favour, but alone to undergo the punishment for all: and yet Sylla's host, having in the city of Perugia --[Plutarch says Preneste, a town of Latium.]--manifested the same virtue, obtained nothing


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 by it, either for himself or his fellow-citizens.

And, directly contrary to my first examples, the bravest of all men, and who was reputed so gracious to all those he overcame, Alexander, having, after many great difficulties, forced the city of Gaza, and, entering, found Betis, who commanded there, and of whose valour in the time of this siege he had most marvellous manifest proof, alone, forsaken by all his soldiers, his armour hacked and hewed to pieces, covered all over with blood and wounds, and yet still fighting in the crowd of a number of Macedonians, who were laying on him on all sides, he said to him, nettled at so dear-bought a victory (for, in addition to the other damage, he had two wounds newly received in his own person), "Thou shalt not die, Betis, as thou dost intend; be sure thou shall suffer all the torments that can be inflicted on a captive." To which menace the other returning no other answer, but only a fierce and disdainful look; "What," says Alexander, observing his haughty and obstinate silence, "is he too stiff to bend a knee! Is he too proud to utter one suppliant word!  Truly, I will conquer this silence; and if I cannot force a word from his mouth, I will, at least, extract a groan from his heart." And thereupon converting his anger into fury, presently commanded his heels to be bored through, causing him, alive, to be dragged, mangled, and dismembered at a cart's tail.--[Quintus Curtius, iv. 6. This act of cruelty has been doubted, notwithstanding the statement of Curtius.]--Was it that the height of courage was so natural and familiar to this conqueror, that because he could not admire, he respected it the less? Or was it that he conceived valour to be a virtue so peculiar to himself, that his pride could not, without envy, endure it in another? Or was it that the natural impetuosity of his fury was incapable of opposition? Certainly, had it been capable of moderation, it is to be believed that in the sack and desolation of Thebes, to see so many valiant men, lost and totally destitute of any further defence, cruelly massacred before his eyes, would have appeased it: where there were above six thousand put to the sword, of whom not one was seen to fly, or heard to cry out for quarter; but, on the contrary, every one running here and there to seek out and to provoke the victorious enemy to help them to an honourable end. Not one was seen who, however weakened with wounds, did not in his last gasp yet endeavour to revenge himself, and with all the arms of a brave despair, to sweeten his own death in the death of an enemy. Yet did their valour create no pity, and the length of one day was not enough to satiate the thirst of the conqueror's revenge, but the slaughter continued to the last drop of blood that was capable of being shed, and stopped not till it met with none but unarmed persons, old men, women, and children, of them to carry away to the number of thirty thousand slaves.


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Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Schlangenbad

SCHLANGENBAD (shlang'en-bat), a watering-place of Prussia, in Hesse-Nassau, 6 miles W. N. W. of Wiesbaden, among wooded hills. The water has a temperature of from 80° to 88°, and is beneficial in hysteria, neuralgia, rheumatism, gout, paralysis, etc.


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 Loud sounds the hammer of Los, & loud his Bellows is heard

Before London to Hampstead's breadths & Highgate's heights, To

Stratford & old Bow, & across to the Gardens of Kensington

On Tyburn's Brook: loud groans Thames beneath the iron Forge

Of Rintrah & Palamabron, of Theotorm & Bromion, to forge the instruments

Of Harvest: The Plow & Harrow to pass over the Nations.

The Surrey hills glow like the clinkers of the furnace: Lambeth's Vale

Where Jerusalem's foundations began; where they were laid in ruins,

Where they were laid in ruins from every Nation & Oak Groves rooted,

Dark gleams before the Furnace-mouth a heap of burning ashes.

When shall Jerusalem return & overspread all the Nations?

Return, return to Lambeth's Vale, O building of human souls!

Thence stony Druid Temples overspread the Island white,

And thence from Jerusalem's ruins, from her walls of salvation

And praise, thro' the whole Earth were rear'd from Ireland

To Mexico & Peru west, & east to China & Japan: till Babel

The Spectre of Albion frown'd over the Nations in glory & war.

All things begin & end in Albion's ancient Druid rocky shore:

But now the Starry Heavens are fled from the mighty limbs of Albion.

Loud sounds the Hammer of Los, loud turn the Wheels of Enitharmon:

Her Looms vibrate with soft affections, weaving the Web of Life

Out from the ashes of the Dead; Los lifts his iron Ladles

With molten ore: he heaves the iron cliffs in his rattling chains

From Hyde Park to the Alms-houses of Mile-end & old Bow.

Here the Three Classes of Mortal Men take their fix'd destinations,

And hence they overspread the Nations of the whole Earth & hence

The Web of Life is woven, & the tender sinews of life created,

And the three Classes of Men regulated by Los's Hammer, and woven

P. 5 BY Enitharmon's Looms & Spun beneath the Spindle of Tirzah.

The first, The Elect from before the foundation of the World:

The second, The Redeem'd: The Third, The Reprobate & form'd

To destruction from the mothers womb:. . . . . . ..

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . follow with me my plow.

Of the first class was Satan: with incomparable mildness;

His primitive tyrannical attempts on Los; with most endearing love

He soft intreated Los to give to him Palamabron's station.

For Palamabron return'd with labour wearied every evening:

Palamabron oft refus'd: and as often Satan offer'd

His service, till by repeated offers and repeated intreaties 2


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168 exactly what to make of you. Upon the whole though, you somewhat remind me of the last boy I had on my place."

"Good, trustworthy boy, I hope?"

"Oh, very! I am now started to get me made some kind of machine to do the sort of work which boys are supposed to be fitted for."

"Then you have passed a veto upon boys?"

"And men, too."

"But, my dear sir, does not that again imply more or less lack of confidence? (Stand up a little, just a very little, my venerable friend; you lean rather hard.)—No confidence in boys, no confidence in men, no confidence in nature. Pray, sir, who or what may you have confidence in?"

"I have confidence in distrust; more particularly as applied to you and your herbs."

"Well," with a forbearing smile, "that is frank. But pray, don't forget that when you suspect my herbs you suspect nature."

"Didn't I say that before?"

"Very good. For the argument's sake I will suppose you are in earnest. Now, can you, who suspect nature, deny, that this same nature not only kindly brought you into being, but has faithfully nursed you to your present vigorous and independent condition? Is it not to nature that you are indebted for that robustness of mind which you so unhandsomely use to her scandal? Pray, is it not to nature that you owe the very eyes by which you criticise her?"

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558

(Over Stephen’s shoulder.) Yes, go. You see he’s incapable.

(Breaks loose.) I’ll insult him.

(Loudly.) Carbine in bucket! Cease fire! Salute!

(Barking furiously.) Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.

Let him up! Don’t strike him when he’s down! Air! Who? The soldier hit him. He’s a professor. Is he hurted? Don’t manhandle him! he’s fainted!

What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under the influence? Let them go and fight the Boers!

Listen to who’s talking! Hasn’t the soldier a right to go with his girl? He gave him the coward’s blow.

(Barking.) Wow wow wow.

(Shoves them back, loudly.) Get back, stand back!

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 Venner Fennor's theft was probably committed while Vennar was confined in Wood Street counter.

[Vennar's Works; Corser's Collectanea (Chetham Soc.), v. 323–32; Fleay's English Drama, ii. 265; Ritson's Bibliogr. Poetica, p. 380; Collier's Hist. of Dram. Poetry, iii. 321, 405; Collier's Bibliogr. Catalogue, ii. 466–9; Nichols's Progr. of James I, ii. 398, iii. 139; Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, 1780, x. 72; Hazlitt's Handbook; Hazlitt's Collections and Notes, 1st ser.; Manningham's Diary (Camden Soc.), pp. 82, 93.]  VENNER, THOMAS (d. 1661), plotter, a cooper by trade, was admitted a freeman of Massachusetts in March 1637–8 (, Hist. of Massachusetts, ed. 1853, ii. 448). He returned to England, and became one of the preachers of the Fifth-monarchy men (, v. 272). In April 1657 the Protector's government discovered a plot headed by him for a rising of Fifth-monarchy men in London. A declaration meant to be published by the insurrectionists, and their standard bearing a red lion couchant, with the motto ‘Who shall rouse him up?’ were seized, and exhibited to the parliament by Secretary Thurloe (Commons' Journals, vii. 521;, Memoirs, ed. 1894, ii. 38). In Thurloe's narrative to the house he said: ‘The chief and leader of them is one Venner, that was a wine cooper, and about two years since had a place in the Tower, from whence he was removed, being observed to be a fellow of desperate and bloody spirit, and was suspected to have designs to blow up the Tower with powder. … He had also spake at the same time very desperate words concerning the murdering of his Highness' (, vi. 163, 185). On 9 April Venner was sent to the Tower, and he was still in confinement there in February 1659 (ib. vi. 188, vii. 598).

When released he returned to his old trade of preaching, and on the night of 6 Jan. 1661, after exhorting his adherents in their meeting-house in Coleman Street, set forth with about fifty men to overthrow the government and set up the Fifth monarchy. Their watchword was ‘The King Jesus, and the heads upon the gates.’ After a skirmish with the trained bands in the city they retired to Highgate, and thence to Caen Wood. On 9 Jan. they appeared again in the city, and those who were not killed were captured by the king's guards in Wood Street, after a very sharp fight (, Register, pp. 354, 356;, Chronicle, ed. Phillips, p. 756; , Diary, 10 Jan. 1661; , Coldstream Guards, i. 98). The prisoners were tried on 17 Jan. at the Old Bailey, before Chief-justice Foster, and Venner was hanged and quartered before his meeting-house in Coleman Street on 19 Jan. (Somers Tracts, ed. Scott, vii. 812; State Trials, vi. 106; Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1660–1, p. 471).

A portrait of Venner is given in Pagitt's ‘Heresiography,’ 1662.

[Authorities mentioned in the article.]  VENNER, TOBIAS (1577–1660), medical writer, was born ‘of honest parents’ at Petherton, Somerset, in 1577. He matriculated from St. Alban Hall, Oxford, on 15 May 1595, graduated B.A. on 1 Feb. 1598–9, and M.A. on 7 July 1603. He then returned to Petherton, where he established himself in practice as a physician. On 31 March 1613 he graduated M.B. and M.D. at Oxford, having obtained a certificate from the regius professor of medicine that he was fit for these degrees, a dispensation for non-attendance on the professor's lectures, and a grace in convocation which relieved him of the necessity of waiting over four congregations for the degrees (Reg. Univ. Oxon. i. 34, 125, 126, 128). He subsequently extended his practice to Bridgewater and Bath, where he resided during the spring and autumn, the seasons for visitors in quest of the Bath waters, which Venner did much to popularise. In 1620 he published his first book, ‘Via Recta ad Vitam Longam; or a Plaine Philosophicall Discourse of the Nature, Faculties, and Effects of all such things as by way of Nourishments and Dieteticall Observations made for the Preservation of Health … with the true use of our Bathes of Bathe’ (London, 4to). The dedication to Francis Bacon, lord Verulam, was changed in the second edition (London, 1622, 4to) to one to Prince Charles; other editions appeared in 1628, 1638, 1650, and 1660, all published in quarto in London. The treatise on the ‘Bathes of Bath’ was issued separately in 1628 with a dedication to Henrietta Maria, and reprinted in the ‘Harleian Miscellany’ (1744, vol. ii.) A second part of the ‘Via Recta’ was published (London, 1623, 4to), ‘wherein the true use of sleepe, exercise, excretions, and perturbations is, with their effects, discussed.’

To these works Venner is said to have owed his large practice at Bath. He followed them up in 1621 with ‘A Briefe and Accurate Treatise concerning the taking of the Fume of Tobacco, which very many in these dayes doe too too [sic] licentiously use …’ (London, 4to); reprinted with the ‘Via Recta’ in 1638, 1650, and 1660. It is interesting as showing the prevalence of tobacco-smoking as early as 1621; Venner


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 upbraids those who ‘cannot travel without a tobacco-pipe at their mouth,’ and who smoke between the courses at meals. Venner died at Bath on 27 March 1660, and was buried in the south aisle of St. Peter's Church, where a ‘massie monument of free-stone,’ with an effigy, was erected to his memory (cf., Diary, ed. Braybrooke, iv. 471). ‘He lived to see both his wives and all his children die before him, and left his estate to the relations by his second wife, now in Bath’ (, Lives and Characters of the Physicians of Bath, 1676, pp. 168–73). Two sons, John and Tobias, graduated in medicine at Oxford (, Alumni Oxon. 1500–1714;, Reg. of Wadham. i. 62). A portrait, engraved by Faithorne, dated 1660, ‘ætat. suæ 85,’ is prefixed to the 1660 edition of the ‘Via Recta.’

[Authorities cited; Addit. MS. 5520, f. 260; Wood's Athenæ Oxon. ed. Bliss, ii. 491–2; Granger's Biogr. Hist. iii. 89; John Wood's Description of Bath, 1749; Joseph Hunter's Connection of Bath with the Literature and Science of England, 1853, pp. 45, 79; Fairholt's Tobacco and its Associations, 1859, p. 107; Foster's Alumni Oxon. 1500–1714.]

 VENNING, JOHN (1776–1858), philanthropist, born at Totnes, Devonshire, on 20 May 1776, was the son of Walter Venning, a merchant, by his wife Mary Ann. He was educated at Totnes grammar school, and at the age of fourteen was put into the counting-house of Messrs. Jackson & Co., a firm of Russia merchants in London. He went to St. Petersburg in 1793, and made for himself a high position there as a merchant. His interest in the condition of Russian prisons was aroused by his brother, Walter Venning [q. v.], and in 1819, on the foundation of the St. Petersburg Society for the Improvement of Prisons, he became treasurer. After his brother's death (1821) he threw himself with great energy into this branch of philanthropic work, visiting the prisons of Sweden, Germany, France, and England, and making reports and suggestions, which he laid, with some success, before the imperial government. He had much personal intercourse with the czars Alexander I and Nicholas I. In addition to prison reforms, he was able to introduce many needed improvements in lunatic asylums. In 1830 he settled in Norfolk, where he aided in benevolent and evangelical work. He died at Norwich on 11 April 1858. He was married on 13 Sept. 1805 to the daughter of James Meybohm, a merchant of St. Petersburg. She survived him and left issue.

[Miss Henderson's Memorials of John Venning, 1862, with portrait.]

 VENNING, RALPH (1621?–1674), nonconformist divine, son of Francis and Joan Venning, was born in Devonshire, perhaps at King's Teignton, about 1621. He was the first convert of George Hughes [q. v.], the puritan vicar of Tavistock (dedication of Mysteries and Revelations, 2nd ed. 1649). He was educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, where he was admitted as a sizar on 1 April 1643, graduated B.A. 1646, and proceeded M.A. 1650. He held a lectureship at St. Olave's, Southwark, where he had a great repute as a preacher of charity sermons. Ejected by the Uniformity Act (1662), he became a colleague to Robert Bragge (1627-1704), pastor of an independent congregation at Pewterers' Hall, Lime Street, Fenchurch Street, and held this charge till his death. He died on 10 March 1673-4, in his fifty-third year, and was buried in Bunhill Fields. He married Hannah, widow of John Cope of London, and left a son, and a daughter Hannah (d. 7 June 1691). His portrait was engraved by Hollar. Of his style, John Edwards (1637-1716) [q. v.] remarks in 'The Preacher ' (1705, i. 203): 'He turns sentences up and down, and delights in little cadences and chiming of words.' His works still retain popularity; cheap reprints of some of them were issued in 1891.

He published, besides single sermons preached at St. Paul's Cathedral in 1654 and 1656: 1. 'Orthodoxe Paradoxes,' 1647, 12mo; 7th ed. 1657, 16mo. 2. 'Mysteries and Revelations,' 1647, 16mo; 5th ed. 1657, 16mo. 3. 'The New Command Renew'd,' 1650, 16mo; 4th ed. 1657, 16mo. 4. 'Milke and Honey,' 1653, 16mo (added is a second part of No. 1); 3rd ed. 1656, 16mo. 5. 'Canaan's Flowings ' [1654], 16mo (a second part of No. 4); 3rd ed. 1658, 16mo. 6. 'Things worth thinking on,' 1665, 16mo. 7. 'The Beauty of Holiness,' 1665, 16mo. 8. 'Sin, the Plague of Plagues,' 1669. 8vo. Posthumous were 9. 'The Dead yet Speaking, or Mr. Venning's Living Sayings,' 1674, broadsheet. 10. 'Alarm to Unconverted Sinners,' 1675, broad sheet. 11. 'Venning's Remains,' 1675, 8vo (portrait). He was one of the editors of the 'English Greek Lexicon,' 1661, 8vo (the first lexicon of New Testament Greek giving the meanings in English); his farewell sermon at St. Olave's is in 'A Compleat Collection of Farewell Sermons,' 1663, 8vo; his 'divine sentences' are included in 'Saints' Memorials,' 1674, 8vo (portrait). He prefaced books by William Strong [q. v.], Jonathan Hanmer [q. v.], Theophilus Polwhele [q. v.], and John Goodwin [q. v.]


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Rh

(Tugging his comrade.) Here bugger off, Harry. There’s the cops! (Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in the group.)

What’s wrong here?

We were with this lady and he insulted us and assaulted my chum. (The retriever barks.) Who owns the bleeding tyke?

(With expectation.) Is he bleeding?

(Rising from his knees.) No. Gone off. He’ll come to all right.

(Glances sharply at the man.) Leave him to me. I can easily…

Who are you? Do you know him?

(Lurches towards the watch.) He insulted my lady friend.

(Angrily.) You hit him without provocation. I’m a witness. Constable, take his regimental number.

I don’t want your instructions in the discharge of my duty.

(Pulling his comrade.) Here, bugger off, Harry. Or Bennett’ll have you in the lockup.

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 Venning 'An Elegy' on his death was printed on a broadsheet in March 1674.

[Funeral Sermon, by Bragge, 1674; Funeral Sermon, by W. Beerman, 1674; Wood's Athenae Oxon. (Bliss), iii. 982 sq.; Calamy's Account, 1713, pp. 22 sq.; Calamy's Continuation, 1727, i. 18; Granger's Biographical Hist, of England, 1779, iii. 325; Wilson's Dissenting Churches of London, 1808, i. 210; Dredge's Few Sheaves of Devon Bibliography, 1889, pp. 8 sq. (gives a full bibliography); Alford's Abbots of Tavistock, 1891, p. 310; information from the records of Emmanuel College, per J. B. Peace, esq., from W. M. Venning, esq., D.C.L., and from the Rev. H. G. Le Neveu; there is no trace of his baptism in the parish register at Tavistock; that at King's Teignton does not begin till 1670.]  VENNING, WALTER (1781–1821), philanthropist, younger brother of John Venning [q. v.], was born at Totnes, Devonshire, on 15 Nov. 1781. He began business life in London with an elder brother, William, but in 1799 he joined another brother, John, at St. Petersburg, remaining in this connection till 1807. In 1810 he came under strong religious impressions, which were deepened by his mother's death in 1811; on 6 Sept. 1811 he joined the congregational church. On the formation in 1815 of the Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline he became an active member, and on returning to St. Petersburg in 1817 founded a similar society there in 1819. Through Prince Alexander Galitzin he obtained permission ‘to visit the Russian prisons at all times.’ In 1818 he visited those of Moscow. He proposed to visit Denmark on a similar errand in August 1820, but was beaten back by weather. He died at his brother's country house on 10 Jan. 1821 of typhus, caught while visiting a prison at St. Petersburg. He was buried at St. Petersburg, where a monument was erected to his memory by the St. Petersburg Society for the Improvement of Prisons.

[Knill's Memoir of Walter Venning, 1822, with portrait; Miss Henderson's Memorials of John Venning, 1862.]  VENNOR, HENRY GEORGE (1840–1884), Canadian meteorologist, born at Montreal on 30 Dec. 1840, was the son of an English hardware merchant, a member of the firm of Budden & Vennor. He was educated at the high school of Montreal, and while still a schoolboy formed a collection of snakes and other Canadian reptiles, which received an honourable mention at a provincial exhibition. It is now at the McGill University. He graduated at the McGill University in 1860, taking a course of zoology, geology, and mineralogy under Sir William Dawson, studying engineering and going through a course of chemistry in Montreal Medical College. After leaving the university in 1860 he was employed for five years in the mercantile firm of Frothingham & Workman, devoting his leisure to studying the weather and to making a collection of the birds and fossils of Montreal Island. In 1865 he became temporary assistant to Sir William Edmond Logan [q. v.], who was engaged in a geological survey of Canada, and with him he spent a season in examining Manatoulin Island in Lake Huron. He also made on his own account a collection of the birds frequenting the shores of the lake, which he presented to Queen's College, Kingston, and prepared a list of those that bred there. He was placed on the permanent staff of the geological survey in 1866. His special field in the survey was the Laurentian Mountains. His revised classification of the great Laurentian system of rocks added greatly to his reputation, and in 1870 he was elected a member of the Geological Society of London. In 1872 he directed attention to the phosphate resources of the county of Ottawa, where mines have since been worked at a large profit. His field of investigation was changed in 1875 to the other side of the Ottawa in the country drained by the rivers Lièvre, Rouge, and Gatineau, which he traced to their sources.

Vennor devoted much time to the study of meteorology, and in 1877 commenced to publish the ‘Vennor Almanac.’ He at once commanded attention by accurately predicting the character of the succeeding winter, and his almanac is said to have attained a larger circulation than any previous publication of the character in the world. For many years he made an especial study of the character and course of storms, and was able to deduce definite theories on the subject. About 1882 he supplemented his almanac by the ‘Monthly Bulletin.’ In 1881 he resigned his post on the survey, and established a mining agency at Montreal.

He died unmarried at Montreal on 8 June 1884. After his death his ‘Almanac’ was continued by Walter Smith.

He was the author of ‘Our Birds of Prey; or the Eagles, Hawks, and Owls of Canada’ (Montreal, 1876, 4to), a work of great value, the result of wide reading and personal observation. He also contributed to the ‘Canadian Naturalist’ and to the ‘British American Magazine,’ as well as to the Montreal ‘Witness.’

[Morgan's Dominion Annual Register, Montreal, 1884; Appleton's Cyclopædia of American Biography.]


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560

(Staggering as he is pulled away.) God fuck old Bennett! He’s a whitearsed bugger. I don’t give a shit for him.

(Taking out his notebook.) What’s his name?

(Peering over the crowd.) I just see a car there. If you give me a hand a second, sergeant…

Name and address.

(Quickly.) O, the very man! (He whispers.) Simon Dedalus’ son. A bit sprung. Get those policemen to move those loafers back.

Night, Mr Kelleher.

(To the watch, with drawling eye.) That’s all right. I know him. Won a bit on the races. Gold cup. Throwaway. (He laughs.) Twenty to one. Do you follow me?

(Turns to the crowd.) Here, what are you all gaping at? Move on out of that.

Leave it to me, sergeant. That’ll be all right. (He laughs, shaking his head.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. What? Eh, what?

(Laughs.) I suppose so.

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Rh "No! for the privilege of vision I am indebted to an oculist, who in my tenth year operated upon me in Philadelphia. Nature made me blind and would have kept me so. My oculist counterplotted her."

"And yet, sir, by your complexion, I judge you live an out-of-door life; without knowing it, you are partial to nature; you fly to nature, the universal mother."

"Very motherly! Sir, in the passion-fits of nature, I've known birds fly from nature to me, rough as I look; yes, sir, in a tempest, refuge here," smiting the folds of his bearskin. "Fact, sir. fact. Come, come, Mr. Palaverer, for all your palavering, did you yourself never shut out nature of a cold, wet night? Bar her out? Bolt her out? Lint her out?"

"As to that," said the herb-doctor calmly, "much may be said."

"Say it, then," ruffling all his hairs. "You can't, sir, can't." Then, as in apostrophe: "Look you, nature! I don't deny but your clover is sweet, and your dandelions don't roar; but whose hailstones smashed my windows?"

"Sir," with unimpaired affability, producing one of his boxes, "I am pained to meet with one who holds nature a dangerous character. Though your manner is refined your voice is rough; in short, you seem to have a sore throat. In the calumniated name of nature, I present you with this box; my venerable friend here has a similar one; but to you, a free gift, sir. Through her regularly-authorized agents, of whom I happen to

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Rh

(Nudges the second watch.) Come and wipe your name off the slate. (He lilts, wagging his head.) With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. What, eh, do you follow me?

(Genially.) Ah, sure we were too.

(Winking.) Boys will be boys. I’ve a car round there.

All right, Mr Kelleher. Good night.

I’ll see to that.

(Shakes hands with both of the watch in turn.) Thank you very much, gentlemen, thank you. (He mumbles confidentially.) We don’t want any scandal, you understand. Father is a well known, highly respected citizen. Just a little wild oats, you understand.

O, I understand, sir.

That’s all right, Sir.

It was only in case of corporal injuries I’d have had to report it at the station.

(Nods rapidly.) Naturally. Quite right. Only your bounden duty.

It’s our duty.

Good night, men.

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170 be one, Nature delights in benefiting those who most abuse her. Pray, take it."

"Away with it! Don't hold it so near. Ten to one there is a torpedo in it. Such things have been. Editors been killed that way. Take it further off, I say."

"Good heavens ! my dear sir—"

"I tell you I want none of your boxes," snapping his rifle.

"Oh, take it—ugh, ugh! do take it," chimed in the old miser; "I wish he would give me one for nothing."

"You find it lonely, eh," turning short round; "gulled yourself, you would have a companion."

"How can he find it lonely," returned the herb-doctor, "or how desire a companion, when here I stand by him; I, even I, in whom he has trust. For the gulling, tell me, is it humane to talk so to this poor old man? Granting that his dependence on my medicine is vain, is it kind to deprive him of what, in mere imagination, if nothing more, may help eke out, with hope, his disease? For you, if you have no confidence, and, thanks to your native health, can get along without it, so far, at least, as trusting in my medicine goes; yet, how cruel an argument to use, with this afflicted one here. Is it not for all the world as if some brawny pugilist, aglow in December, should rush in and put out a hospital-fire, because, forsooth, he feeling no need of artificial heat, the shivering patients shall have none? Put it to your conscience, sir, and you will admit, that, whatever be the nature of this afflicted one's trust, you,

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562

(Saluting together.) Night, gentlemen. (They move off with slow heavy tread.)

(Blows.) Providential you came on the scene. You have a car?…

(Laughs, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder to the car brought up against the scaffolding.) Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet’s. Like princes, faith. One of them lost two quid on the race. Drowning his grief and were on for a go with the jolly girls. So I landed them up on Behan’s car and down to nighttown.

I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to…

(Laughs.) Sure they wanted me to join in with the mots. No, by God, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. (He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Thanks be to God we have it in the house what, eh, do you follow me? Hah! hah! hah!

(Tries to laugh.) He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don’t know him (poor fellow he’s laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together and I was just making my way home…

Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome!

Sure it was Behan, our jarvey there, that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen’s and I told him to pull up and got off to see. (He laughs.) Sober hearsedrivers a specialty. Will I give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in Cabra, what?

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Rh in opposing it, evince either an erring head or a heart amiss. Come, own, are you not pitiless ?"

"Yes, poor soul," said the Missourian, gravely eying the old man—"yes, it is pitiless in one like me to speak too honestly to one like you. You are a late sitter-up in this life; past man's usual bed-time; and truth, though with some it makes a wholesome breakfast, proves to all a supper too hearty. Hearty food, taken late, gives bad dreams."

"What, in wonder's name—ugh, ugh!—is he talking about?" asked the old miser, looking up to the herb-doctor.

"Heaven be praised for that!" cried the Missourian.

"Out of his mind, ain't he?" again appealed the old miser.

"Pray, sir," said the herb-doctor to the Missourian, "for what were you giving thanks just now?"

"For this: that, with some minds, truth is, in effect, not so cruel a thing after all, seeing that, like a loaded pistol found by poor devils of savages, it raises more wonder than terror—its peculiar virtue being unguessed, unless, indeed, by indiscreet handling, it should happen to go off of itself."

"I pretend not to divine your meaning there," said the herb-doctor, after a pause, during which he eyed the Missourian with a kind of pinched expression, mixed of pain and curiosity, as if he grieved at his state of mind, and, at the same time, wondered what had brought him to it, "but this much I know," he added, "that the general cast of your thoughts is, to say the least,

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Rh

No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop.

(Scratches his nape.) Sandycove! (He bends down and calls to Stephen.) Eh! (He calls again.) Eh! He’s covered with shavings anyhow. Take care they didn’t lift anything off him.

No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick.

Ah well, he’ll get over it. No bones broken. Well, I’ll shove along. (He laughs.) I’ve a rendezvous in the morning. Burying the dead. Safe home!

(Neighs.) Hohohohohome.

Good night. I’ll just wait and take him along in a few…

(From the car, standing.) Night.

Night.

(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The car and horse back slowly, awkwardly and turn. Corny Kelleher on the sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Blooms plight. The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow

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172. There is strength in them, but a strength, whose source, being physical, must wither. You will yet recant."

"Recant?"

"Yes, when, as with this old man, your evil days of decay come on, when a hoary captive in your chamber, then will you, something like the dungeoned Italian we read of, gladly seek the breast of that confidence begot in the tender time of your youth, blessed beyond telling if it return to you in age."

"Go back to nurse again, eh? Second childhood, indeed. You are soft."

"Mercy, mercy !" cried the old miser, "what is all this!—ugh, ugh! Do talk sense, my good friends. Ain't you," to the Missourian, "going to buy some of that medicine?"

"Pray, my venerable friend," said the herb-doctor, now trying to straighten himself, "don't lean quite so hard; my arm grows numb; abate a little, just a very little."

"Go," said the Missourian, "go lay down in your grave, old man, if you can't stand of yourself. It's a hard world for a leaner."

"As to his grave," said the herb-doctor, "that is far enough off, so he but faithfully take my medicine."

"Ugh, ugh, ugh!—He says true. No, I ain't—ugh! a going to die yet—ugh, ugh, ugh! Many years to live yet, ugh, ugh, ugh!"

"I approve your confidence," said the herb-doctor; "but your coughing distresses me, besides being

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Rh injurious to you. Pray, let me conduct you to your berth. You are best there. Our friend here will wait till my return, I know."

With which he led the old miser away, and then, coming back, the talk with the Missourian was resumed.

"Sir," said the herb-doctor, with some dignity and more feeling, "now that our infirm friend is withdrawn, allow me, to the full, to express my concern at the words you allowed to escape you in his hearing. Some of those words, if I err not, besides being calculated to beget deplorable distrust in the patient, seemed fitted to convey unpleasant imputations against me, his physician."

"Suppose they did?" with a menacing air.

"Why, then—then, indeed," respectfully retreating, "I fall back upon my previous theory of your general facetiousness. I have the fortune to be in company with a humorist—a wag."

"Fall back you had better, and wag it is," cried the Missourian, following him up, and wagging his raccoon tail almost into the herb-doctor's face, "look you!"

"At what?"

"At this coon. Can you, the fox, catch him?"

"If you mean," returned the other, not unselfpossessed, "whether I flatter myself that I can in any way dupe you, or impose upon you, or pass myself off upon you for what I am not, I, as an honest man, answer that I have neither the inclination nor the power to do aught of the kind."

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564 ''nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephens hat festooned with shavings and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder.'')

Eh! Ho! (There is no answer; he bends again.) Mr Dedalus! (There is no answer.) The name if you call. Somnambulist. (He bends again and, hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate form.) Stephen! (There is no answer. He calls again.) Stephen!

(Groans.) Who? Black panther vampire. (He sighs and stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.)

Poetry. Well educated. Pity. (He bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat.) To breathe. (He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen’s clothes with light hands and fingers.) One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. (He listens.) What!

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174 "Honest man? Seems to me you talk more like a craven."

"You in vain seek to pick a quarrel with me, or put any affront upon me. The innocence in me heals me."

"A healing like your own nostrums. But you are a queer man—a very queer and dubious man; upon the whole, about the most so I ever met."

The scrutiny accompanying this seemed unwelcome to the diffidence of the herb-doctor. As if at once to attest the absence of resentment, as well as to change the subject, he threw a kind of familiar cordiality into his air, and said: "So you are going to get some machine made to do your work? Philanthropic scruples, doubtless, forbid your going as far as New Orleans for slaves?"

"Slaves?" morose again in a twinkling, "won't have 'em! Bad enough to see whites ducking and grinning round for a favor, without having those poor devils of niggers congeeing round for their corn. Though, to me, the niggers are the freer of the two. You are an abolitionist, ain't you" he added, squaring himself with both hands on his rifle, used for a staff, and gazing in the herb-doctor's face with no more reverence than if it were a target. "You are an abolitionist, ain't you?" "As to that, I cannot so readily answer. If by abolitionist you mean a zealot, I am none; but if you mean a man, who, being a man, feels for all men, slaves included, and by any lawful act, opposed to nobody's interest, and therefore, rousing nobody's enmity, would willingly abolish suffering (supposing it, in its degree,

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Rh to exist) from among mankind, irrespective of color, then am I what you say."

"Picked and prudent sentiments. You are the moderate man, the invaluable understrapper of the wicked man. You, the moderate man, may be used for wrong, but are useless for right."

"From all this," said the herb-doctor, still forgivingly, "I infer, that you, a Missourian, though living in a slave-state, are without slave sentiments."

"Aye, but are you? Is not that air of yours, so spiritlessly enduring and yielding, the very air of a slave? Who is your master, pray; or are you owned by a company?"

"My master?"

"Aye, for come from Maine or Georgia, you come from a slave-state, and a slave-pen, where the best breeds are to be bought up at any price from a livelihood to the Presidency. Abolitionism, ye gods, but expresses the fellow-feeling of slave for slave."

"The back-woods would seem to have given you rather eccentric notions," now with polite superiority smiled the herb-doctor, still with manly intrepidity forbearing each unmanly thrust, "but to return; since, for your purpose, you will have neither man nor boy, bond nor free, truly, then some sort of machine for you is all there is left. My desires for your success attend you, sir.—Ah" glancing shoreward, "here is Cape Giradeau; I must leave you."

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Rh

(Communes with the night.) Face reminds me of his poor mother. In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him… (He murmurs.)… swear that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts… (He murmurs.)… in the rough sands of the sea… a cabletow’s length from the shore… where the tide ebbs… and flows…

(Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.) Rudy!

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