text:
Page:The Century Dictionary Volume 12.djvu/310

 1050 post prapenna, prepenna (pre-pen'a), n. ; pi. pra- peniiie, prepeniise (-e). [NL., < L.prse, before, + penna, feather.] A feather of the nestling plumage of birds which resembles the suc- ceeding feather, or teleoptile, and is not of the nature of down. The neossoptilea of the Palseognathte consist of pre- penna ouly, but these present many features of great in- terest. Trans. Zool. Soe. London, Dec, 1900, p. 162. praeplumulae, preplumulae (prS-plo'mii-le), ji. pi. [XL., < L. pne, before, + pliimula (which see).] The downy covering of young birds when it does not consist of prepennas, that is, is not connected with the definite feathers which appear later. Trans. LinneanSoc, Zool., practicTm (prak'ti^kum), n ; Vl- practjca(-^^ pra'sc'Sar.- prescutellar (pre-skii'te-lar), [NU, < Gr. ^paKTi^d^, of ""^^P^^^^^Sg^;" a. [prs'Scutell{um) + -ar3.- Inentom., ol or pertaining to the prroscutellum. Proc. Zool. Sac. London, 1898, p. 318. Frisian (pre'si-an), a. Of or pertaining to the ancient Prsesus in Crete, especially to antiq- uities discovered by excavations in its site. The stone jambs characteristic of Pracirfan.housea are here more massive than usual. IL C. Botianquet, in An. Brit School at Athens. VIII. [262. PP. s. pp. S. An abbreviation of the Latin post^criptum, a second postscript. P. Q. An abbreviation (a) of Previous Ques- tion ; (6) of Province of Quebec. Pr. 2. In c/trai., the symbol for pr««eo(fyOTJMm. P. K. An abbre'iation (n) of the Latiu Popii- lus Bomanus, the Roman People; (6) of I'orto Rico; (c) of the Latin punctum remotum, farthest point (namely, of accommodation to which the eve can adjust itself). P. K. A. An abbreviiition of President of the Royal Academy. practice (prak'ti-ko), )i. [8p., a practitioner, etc. See practice.'^ In the Philippines and Cuba, a guide, action. See praetic.' An example for stu dent practice, as in laboratory or field work. Hunt, The Cereals in America. praeabdomen, preabdomen (pre-ab-do'men), n. [XL., < L. prx, before, + ahdoinen.' The anterior broad portion of the abdomen of scorpions. Parker and Hasivell, Zoology, 1. 605. prabrachium, prebrachium (pre-bra'ki-um), H. ; pi. priebracliia, prebrachia (-ii). [NL. pr«- brachium, < L. prse, before, + brachium, arm.] praetergiun, pretergum (pre-ter'gum), n.; pi. . The anterior process of the corpus quadri- prscterrja, preteri/a (-gii). [NL.. < L. prie, be- geminum. — 2. In zool., that part of the wing- fore, + tergum (which see).] The anterior of membraneof a bat lying in advance of the arm; the three parts into which the tergal aspect the antebrachial membrane or propatagium. of a segment of a coleopterous larva is nor- praecentralis, precentralls (pre-sen-tra'lis), mally divided. n. [NL., < L. prx, before, + centralis, een- pragmatic, a. 3. A term used (by Kant) to tral.] A fissure cephalad or anterior to, and denote rules of action (otherwise denominated more or less parallel with, the central fissure (fissure of Rolando) of the brain — Prsecen- tralls superior. Same as mpercentral *jissure. J'roc. Zool. Soc. London. 1903, p. 16. praecentnim, precentrum (pre-sen'trum), n. ; pi. priecentra, precentra (-tra). [NL., < L. prx, before, -I- centrum.'] One of the verte- bral disks which carry neural and hemal arches, when found alternating with those that are not thus furnished: contrasted with *post- centrum. The condition is found in some fishes. Gadijic. pracordium, precordium (pre-k6r'di-um), n. ; pi. prxcordia, precordia (-a). Same as pre- cordial region (which see, under precordial). praecomual, precornual (pre-k6r'nu-al), a. [NL. priecornti + -o(l.] Relating to. the pi-Kcornu. Buck, Med. Handbook, it. 171. Pradentata (pre-den«ta'ta), n.^pl. [NL., < L. prx, before, in front, +" dentatus, toothed.] A suborder of herbivorous dinosaurs includ- ing quadrupedal and bipedal forms. It is dis- tinguished by the presence of a toothless predentary hone in front of the mandible ; by the premaxillai being either wholly or partly edentulous ; and by the slender post- pubes, which are directed downward and backward par- allel to the ischium. Its members may be armored or unarmored. They occur in formations from the Upper Jura to the Upper Cretaceous in North America and Europe. Also Predentata. prse-ilium, pre-ilium (pre-il'i-um), n. ; pi. prse- ilia, pre-ilia (-ii). [NL.,< L. jnra?, before, -t- ilium:] In orniih., that part of the ilium which PJf^^,^"^™;, lies in front of the acetabulum. pramedia, «. See i'premedia. pranarial, a. 2. Preceding or situated an- terior to the nares or nostrils : applicable either to anatomical structure, as, prienarial border; or to direction, &9, prwnarial elonga- tion of snout. Trans. Zool. Soc. London, Dec, , p. 182 Prjenarlal septum, a vertical bony plate situated in front of the narial openings. H. n. That portion of the facial region of a vertebrate head which lies anterior to the opening of the nares or nostrils. Pranestine (pre-nes'tin), a. and n. [NL. Prsencstimis, adj.', Prsenestini, n. pi., < Prseneste, Gr. IlpaiveoToq and TlpaivecTs, an ancient city of Latium.] I. a. Of or pertaining to Prseneste. The engraved metal caskets of the kind commonly known as Prfenestine cista;, because they have been found for the most part at Pra!nest4, the modern Pales- trina. Woitmann and Woermann, History of Painting, I. 88. II. «. An inhabitant of Preeneste (now Palestrina). The Romans. . . . were inclined to sneer" at the pro- nunciation and idiom of the Prifnestineg. Eneyc. Brit, XXXIII. 897. prapatagluin,prepatagium(pre-pat-a-ji'um), «. ; pi. priepatagia, prepatagia (-a). [NL., < L. prx, before, + patagium.] Tfie triangular membrane on the front of a bird's wing, lying between the humerus and forearm. Parker and Saswell, Zoology, II. 352. counsels of prudeuce ') which have to do with the attainment of happiness. As used by him, it is antithetic to the term 'practical,' which refers to principles of action (otherwise called 'categorical imperatives') which have to do with the attainment of virtue. We might . . . call the first kind of imperatives tech- nical (belonging to art), the second pragmatic (to welfare), the third moral (belonging to free conduct generally, that is, to morals). Kant (trans.), Fundamental Piinciples of the Meta- (physic of Ethics, p. 40. . Having to do wi(h pragmatism as a phil- osophy: as, the pragmatic movement; prag- matic thought. See*pragmatism, 3. pragmaticism (prag-mat'i-sizm), n. Iprag- matic + -ism.] A special and limited form of pragmatism, in which the pragmatism is re- stricted to the determining of the meaning of concepts (particularly of philosophic concepts) by consideration of the experimental differ- ences in the conduct of life which would con- ceivably result from the affirmation or denial of the meaning in question. He [the writer] framed the theory that a conception, that is, the rational purport of a word or other expression, lies exclusively in its conceivable bearing upon the con- duct of life. . . . To serve the precise purpose of express- ing the original definition, he begs to announce the loirth of the word " pragmaticimi." C. S. Peirce, in The Monist, April, 1905, p. 166.

pragmatism,  n.  3. In '' philos. '', a method of thought, a general movement or tendency of thought, and a specific school, in which stress is placed upon practical consequences and practical values as standards for explicating philosophic conceptions and as tests for determining their value and, especially, their truth. The word is used in a variety of senses, of greater or less breadth and definiteness. The following meanings of the term are arranged in the order of descending generality: (a) An attitude of mind, namely that of "looking away from first things, principles, 'categories,' supposed necessities, and of looking toward last things, fruits, consequences, facts." W. James, Pragmatism, a New Name for Some Old Ways of Thinking, p. 55. (b) A theory concerning the proper method of determining the meaning of conceptions. "Consider what effects, that might conceivably have practical bearings, we conceive the object of our conception to have. Then, our conception of these effects is the whole of our conception of the object." C. S. Peirce, in Baldwin's Dict. of Philos. and Psychol. , II. This theory was first propounded by Mr. Peirce in an article upon "How to Make our Ideas Clear" in the "Popular Science Monthly" in 1878. The term 'pragmatism' does not, however, appear there. In an article in the "Monist" for 1905, Mr. Peirce says that he "has used it continually in philosophic conversation, since, perhaps, the mid-seventies." The term was publicly introduced in print by Professor William James in 1898 in an address upon "Philosophic Conceptions and Practical Realities," in which the authorship of the term and of the method is credited to Mr. Peirce. The latter has recently used the term 'pragmaticism' to express this meaning. (c) The theory that the processes and the materials of knowledge are determined by practical or purposive considerations—that there is no such thing as knowledge determined by exclusively theoretical, speculative, or abstract intellectual considerations. This definition expresses the net or mean sense of the term in its various uses. "Now quite the most striking feature of the new theory was its recognition of an inseparable connection between rational cognition and rational purpose; and that consideration it was which determined the preference for the name 'pragmatism.'"  C. S. Peirce, in The Monist, 1905. F. C. S. Schiller has defined pragmatism as "the thorough recognition that the purposive character of mental life generally must influence and pervade also our most remotely cognitive activities." Humanism, Philosophic Essays, p. 8. Pragmatism—by which I mean the doctrine that reality possesses practical character and that this character is most efficaciously expressed in the function of intelligence. J. Dewey, in Essays Philosophical and Psychological, p. 59. (d) A theory of the nature of truth, namely, that the correspondence between fact and idea which constitutes truth consists in the power of the idea in question to work satisfactorily, or to produce the results intended by it. Such then would be the scope of pragmatism—first, a method, and second, a genetic theory of what is meant by truth. W. James, Pragmatism, p. 65. (e) A metaphysical theory regarding the nature of reality, namely that it is still in process of making, and that human ideas and efforts play a fundamental rôle in its making: the equivalent of humanism as a metaphysical term. The essential contrast is that for rationalism reality is ready-made and complete from all eternity, while for pragmatism it is still in the making, and awaits part of its complexion from the future. W. James, Pragmatism, p. 257. Pragmatism. . . is a conscious application to epistemology (or logic) of a teleological psychology, which implies, ultimately, a voluntaristic metaphysic  F. C. S. Schiller, Studies in Humanism, p. 12.

pragmatist, n. 2. One who adheres to or professes the philosophy of pragmatism ; more loosely, an opponent of rationalism and ab- solutism in philosophy; a supporter of the experimental method of reasoning in philoso- phy; a supporter of empincism, but, unlike other empiricists, one who judges by conse- quences rather than by antecedents. See prairie, n. 2. Any small open space in a for- est. See the extract. [Local, California.] The word "prairie," as used in Mendocino and Hum- boldt counties, may be broadly defined as any small open space among the timber, whether covered with grass or with dwarf brush. Along the coast of Mendocino County the name is applied to the area^ of light, sandy "white-aah" soil covered with dwarf scrub and aur- rounded by timber. In the interior the "prairies" are open pastures surrounded by either timber or brush. U. S. Dept. Agr., Bureau of Plant Industry, Bulletin 12, [1902, p. 27. Bald prairie, a local type of prairie. See the extract [Alabama.] The eminencea of the lower awella of the plain with the atrata of the limestone near the surface and destitute of arboreal growth are called bald prairies. C. Mohr, Plant Life of Alabama, p. 104. Prairie region. .Same as itcane-brnke regirm. — Prairie twister. Same as itlimster. 1 (h).— Salt prairies, nearly level tracts, in arid countries, covered with saline deposits.— Soda-prairie,; water-prairie. See *soda- prairie, -it water-prairie. prairie-breaker (pra'ri-bra'ker), n. A plow for cutting a wide, shallow furrow, and com- pletely inverting the furrow slice. N. E. D. prairie-iiock, «. 2. The American feverfew, Parthenium intvgri folium. prairie-fowl (pra 'ri-foul), n. The prairie-hen. prairie-grouse (pra'ri-grous), n. 'The prairie- hen. prairie-hare (pra ' ri - har), n. A common light gray hare, Lepus catnpestris, of the west- ern United States. Also known as the varying hare because in the northern portion of its range it turns white in winter.
 * pragmatism, 3.


text: The Century Dictionary/Volume 12/P

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

title: The Century Dictionary/Volume 12/P


text:
Page:Plato or Protagoras.djvu/2

no available text layer

title: Page:Plato or Protagoras.djvu/2


text: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/318

title: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/318


text: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/319

title: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/319


text: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/320

title: Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/320


text:
User:John Vandenberg/ssh public key

ssh-rsa AAAAB3NzaC1yc2EAAAABIwAAAQEAtZzg5/v+ElsscO7iIRtQkoZiv7L217dmCEkTAimM94fF3EI7oeqVnv859HFH02z6IhVKZZlYR4HPRvmnLX+NaYTi7j5v9W+tyareqAs98BBzyNYHdgoSaUlpXqAV/px643P+WLQ6Dy/9fDuWyi7yix35i9mpQjeCYB3XA5kAnXwAXeCgbx9Wd8GLhG25ROXp5rpM/kcucbK2toSFIF4R2eLs/ksDytzIDEqMsbbzmLOlEV++zYhSyl/RUPzI9Pu7tkFJCcxrXFIbfi6pm22Lolu2AfUYKoYx0kdFmfqq7fyy1Hhb6+cT3CizzdOq6Lu1CmMuO8ytCwqXM6t15NfKOw==

title: User:John Vandenberg/ssh public key


text: User:Carpaltnl

title: User:Carpaltnl


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/68

42 Korschelt states that the ideograph for "Ko" means "talent" or "skilfulness," in which he is very likely wrong, as it is more accurately translated by our word "threat"; but be this as it may, it is certainly true that the rule in regard to "Ko" gives opportunity for a great display of skill, and as the better players take advantage of this rule with much greater ingenuity, it is a good idea for the weaker player as far as possible to avoid situations where its application arises.

There is a situation which sometimes arises and which might be mistaken for "Ko." It is where a player takes more than one stone and the attacking stone is threatened on three sides, or where only one stone is taken, but the adversary in replying can take not only the last stone played, but others also. In these cases the opponent can retake immediately, because it will at once be seen that an endless exchange of moves (which makes necessary the rule of "Ko") would not occur. A situation of this kind is shown on Plate 6, Diagrams, , and , where White playng at C 8 (Diagram ) takes the tree black stones, producing the situation shown in Diagram , and Black is permitted immediately to retake the white stone, producing the state of affairs in Diagram. The Japanese call such a situation "Ute keashi," which means "returning a blow." It forms no exception to the ordinary rules of the game, and only needs to be pointed out because a beginner might think that the rule of "Ko" applied to it.

We will now take up the situation called "Seki." "Seki" means a "barrier" or "impasse"—it is a different word from the "Seki" in the phrase "Jo seki." "Seki" also is somewhat analagous to perpetual check. It arises when a

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/68


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/69

Rh vacant space is surrounded partly by white and partly by black stones in such away that, if either player places a stone therein, his adversary can thereupon capture the entire group. Under these circumstances, of course, neither player desires to place a stone on that portion of the board, and the rules of the game do not compel him to do so. That portion of the board is regarded as neutral territory, and at the end of the game the vacant "Me" are not counted in favor of either player. Plate 6, Diagram, gives an illustration of "Seki," where it will be seen that if Black plays at either S 16 or T 16 White can kill the black stones in the corner by playing on the other point, and if White plays on either point Black can kill the white stones by filling the remaining vacancy. Directly below, on Diagram , is shown the same group, but the corner black stone has been taken out. The position is now no longer "Seki," but is called by the Japanese "Me ari me nashi," or literally "having 'Me,' not having 'Me.'" Here the white stones are dead, because if Black plays, for instance, at T 4 White cannot kill the black stones by playing at S 4, for the reason that the vacant "Me" at T 1 still remains. The beginner might confuse "Seki" with "Me ari me nashi," and while a good player has no trouble in recognizing the difference when the situation arises, it takes considerable foresight sometimes so to play as to produce one situation or the other.

Plate 6, Diagram, shows another group which might be mistaken for "Seki," but here, if White plays at J 19, the black stones can be killed, further proceedings being somewhat similar to those we saw in the illustration of "Go moku naka de wa ju san te." Plate 7 shows a large

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/69


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/70

44 group of stones from which inevitably "Seki" will result. It would be well for the student to work this out for himself. "Seki" very seldom or never occurs in games between good players, and it rarely occurs in any game.

It is a rule of the game to give warning when a stone or group of stones is about to be completely surrounded. For this purpose the Japanese use the word "Atari" (from "ataru," to touch lightly), which corresponds quite closely to the expression "gardez" in Chess. If this warning were omitted, the player whose stones were about to be taken should have the right to take his last move over and save the imperiled position if he could. This rule is not so strictly observed as formerly; it belongs more to the etiquette of the old Japan.

The game comes to an end when the frontiers of the opposing groups are in contact. This does not mean that the board is entirely covered, for the obvious reason that the space inside the groups or chains of stones is purposely left vacant, for that is the only part of the board which counts; but so long as there is any vacant space lying between the opposing groups that must be disposed of in some way, and when it is so disposed of it will be found that the white and black groups are in complete contact.

Just at the end of the game there will be found isolated vacant intersections or "Me" on the frontier lines, and it does not make any difference which player fills these up. They are called by the Japanese "Dame," which means "useless." (The word "Dame" is likely to be confusing when it is first heard, because the beginner jumps to the conclusion that it is some new kind of a "Me." This arises from a coincidence only. Anything that is useless or

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/70


text:
Template talk:Qwerty

cf User annotation
Just wondering the purpose of the undocumented template, and wondered whether the template User contribution had been noticed and was fulfilling the same space? — billinghurst  sDrewth  14:53, 20 December 2010 (UTC)

title: Template talk:Qwerty


text:
Template talk:NYT header

Updating to align with header
Just wondering if we could look to have header and its components as the underlying basis of this template. At the moment it has no alignment with all the headers at WS and that is probably an oversight. — billinghurst  sDrewth
 * I think the difference is that this isn't meant to be a header for pages in mainspace, but rather an easy way to duplicate the layout of the page one header of the paper; i.e. it'd be used on djvu page 1, and possibly issue TOCs (e.g. The New York Times/1900/12/01) but wouldn't be at the top of the page; there would be a proper header above it. — Sam Wilson ( Talk • Contribs ) … 08:40, 4 August 2011 (UTC)

title: Template talk:NYT header


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/72

46 is called "Dame" in Japanese, but etymologically the word really means "horse's eye," as the Japanese, not being admirers of the vacant stare of that noble animal, have used this word as a synonym for all that is useless. Therefore the syllable "Me" does mean an eye, and is the same word that is used to designate the intersections, but its recurrence in this connection is merely an accident.)

It is difficult for the beginner at first to understand why the filling of these "Dame" results in no advantage to either player, and beginners often fill up such spaces even before the end of the game, feeling that they are gaining ground slowly but surely; and the Japanese have a saying, "Heta go ni dame nashi," which means that there are no "Dame" in beginners' Go, as beginners do not recognize their uselessness. On the other hand, a necessary move will sometimes look like "Dame." The moves that are likely to be so confused are the final connecting moves or "Tsugu," where a potential connection has been made early in the game, but which need to be filled up to complete the chain. In the Illustrative Game, Number, the "Dame" are all given, but a little practice is necessary before they can always be recognized.

When the "Dame" have been filled, and the dead stones have been removed from the board, there is no reason why the players should not at once proceed to counting up which of them has the greatest amount of vacant space, less, of course, the number of stones they have lost, and thus determine who is the victor. As a matter of practice, however, the Japanese do not do this immediately, but, purely for the purpose of facilitating the count, the player having the white pieces would fill up his adversary's territory with

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/72


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/73

Rh the black stones he had captured as far as they would go, and the player having the black stones would fill up his adversary's territory with the white stones that he had captured; and thereupon the entire board is reconstructed, so that the vacant spaces come into rows of fives and tens, so that they are easier to count. This has really nothing to do with the game, and it is merely a device to make the counting of the spaces easier, but it seems like a mysterious process to a novice, and adds not a little to the general mystery with which the end of the game seems to be surrounded when an Occidental sees it played for the first time. This process of arrangement is called "Me wo tsukuru." It may be added that if any part of the board contains the situation called "Seki," that portion is left alone, and is not reconstructed like the rest of the board.

Plate 8 shows a completed game in which the "Dame" have all been filled, but the dead stones have not yet been removed from the board. Let us first see which of the stones are dead. It is easy to see that the white stone at N 11 is hopeless, as it is cut off in every direction. The same is true of the white stone at B 18. It is not so easy to see that the black stones at L and M 18, N, O, P, Q and R 17, N 16, and M and N 15 are dead, but against a good player they would have no hope of forming the necessary two "Me," and they are therefore conceded to be dead; but a good player could probably manage to defend them against a novice. It is still more difficult to see why the irregular white group of eighteen stones on the left-hand side of the board has been abandoned, but there also White has no chance of making the necessary two "Me." At the risk of repetition I will again point out that these groups of

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/73


text:
The Presidents of the United States, 1789-1914/Benjamin Harrison

, twenty-third president of the United States, born in North Bend, Ohio, August 20, 1833; died in Indianapolis, Ind., March 13, 1901. He was the third son of John Scott Harrison (who was a son of President Harrison). It has been stated that his lineage can be traced to Harrison the regicide. He came directly from the Virginia Harrisons, who were distinguished in the early history of that colony; his great-grandfather, Benjamin Harrison, was one of the seven Virginia delegates to the congress which made the Declaration of Independence. The Harrisons owned large landed estates on the bank of the Ohio near the mouth of the Big Miami. Benjamin assisted in the work on his father's farm, which contained about four hundred acres. The products of the

farm were annually shipped in flat boats to New Orleans, and his father usually went with the cargo, the crew being composed of men from the neighborhood who were familiar with the perils of transportation on the Mississippi river. His first studies were prosecuted in the log school-house, and at the age of fifteen he went to Farmers (now Belmont) College, at College Hill, a suburb of Cincinnati. After a two years' stay there he became a student at Miami University, Oxford, where an acquaintance formed at College Hill ripened into a permanent attachment for Miss Caroline L. Scott, who afterward became his wife. The young lady had faith in his star, and did not hesitate to ally her fortunes with his. They were married while he was yet a law student and before he had attained his majority. He graduated fourth in his class in 1852, Milton Sayler taking first honors and David Swing standing second. As a boy he distinguished himself as an off-hand debater in the Union Literary Society.

From the first he showed an aptitude for thinking on his legs, and a gift of utterance which enabled him to express himself in apt words. At a town meeting, where an abolitionist abused Webster and Clay for the part they took in the Compromise measures of 1850, the citizens were amazed to see a slender, tow-headed boy of seventeen mount a bench and make a vigorous speech in vindication of the great statesmen. He studied law with Storer & Gwynne, of Cincinnati, and in 1853 married and was admitted to the bar. In 1854 he put up his sign as attorney at law in Indianapolis, where he kept his residence ever after. It was not long before his ability became known. His first effort at the bar was in prosecuting a man charged with burglary. He received a few dollars by acting as crier for the United States Court, and was glad to take a five-dollar fee now and then for a case before a country justice, though one half of the fee was necessary to pay for the hire of a horse to take him to the place of trial. Whoever employed him could count on his doing his very best, whether the interests involved were small or great. Promptness and thoroughness are characteristics which have been manifest in his whole career, professional and political. In 1855 he formed a partnership with William Wallace, and when that gentleman was elected county clerk in 1861 he formed a partnership with W. P. Fishback, which was interrupted by his enlisting in the army in 1862, but the connection was resumed again in 1865, when the firm became Porter, Harrison & Fishback, and so continued until 1870, when Mr. Fishback retired, Judge Hines taking his place. Gov. Porter retiring, W. H. H. Miller became a partner in the firm, and upon Judge Hines retiring, Mr. John B. Elam became a member of the firm of Harrison,

Miller & Elam, which continued until it was dissolved by Gen. Harrison's election to the presidency in 1888. While not always the senior in years, he was the senior in fact in every firm of which he was a member; such is the ungrudging testimony of all those who have been his partners.

Though breaking the chronological order of events somewhat, it is as well to complete here the sketch of his professional career. He has been concerned in the most important litigation in Indiana for nearly thirty years. He was employed in all sorts of cases, such as came to attorneys engaged in general practice before the era of professional specialists. The panorama of human life with all its disappointments and successes is unrolled before the busy lawyer who has such a practice. The executive devotion to special branches makes men strong in their lines; it narrows them also, and the lawyer whose work has a wider range acquires greater breadth of view, a happy versatility, and a flexibility of mind which enable him to pass from one subject to another without weariness and without distraction. Benjamin Harrison has amazed his associates in professional and official life by the ease and ability with which he despatches so much important business in a masterly style. For the exigencies of high station the discipline of his professional life was an excellent preparation. As a lawyer he was thorough in the preparation and

study of his cases, in the preliminary statement he was clear and exhaustive, putting court and jury in full possession of his theory of the case; as an examiner of witnesses he had no rival; and as an advocate his performances were characterized by clearness, cogency, and completeness which left nothing further to be said on his side of the case. It often happened that his colleagues who had prepared to assist in the argument threw away their notes and rested the case upon his single speech. As a cross-examiner he was unsurpassed. No rascally witness escaped him. No trumped-up story or false alibi could pass muster under his searching scrutiny.

In a case where Gov. Hendricks was defending a man in the Federal Court against a charge of conspiring to violate the election laws, the Governor injudiciously put his client in the witness box. He denied his participation in the crime in the most positive manner; but little by little under Harrison's cross-examination he was driven to admit fact after fact, the cumulative force of which drove him at last to a practical confession of his guilt. In the celebrated Clem murder case several alibis, fabricated for the principal actor in the conspiracy, were pulverized by his cross-examination. It was not his plan to confuse or persecute a witness, but to quietly, persistently, and courteously press for a full disclosure of the facts. He never

attempted to brow-beat a witness, never excited the sympathy of a jury for a witness by any show of unfairness. His skill as a nisi prius lawyer was surpassed by his power before the higher and appellate courts. He put himself on paper admirably, and his briefs are models of strength and conciseness. He was deferential to the courts, courteous to his opponents, generous to his colleagues. He showed no fussy fear that he would be shouldered to the rear. It was not necessary. It soon became evident to his opponents and associates that he was the conspicuous figure in the fight. Unlike many able attorneys, he cared more for success than for an exhibition of his own powers. Lawyers who had never met him were sometimes led to think that his abilities had been overrated; no lawyer who ever encountered him in a forensic fight came out of it with such an opinion. His commanding abilities as a lawyer stood him in good stead in his political career, which began with the organization of the Republican party.

He became conspicuous in Indiana politics in 1860, when, as a candidate for the office of reporter of the Supreme Court, he made a thorough canvass of the State. His first debate with Gov. Hendricks was in that year. By some mistake of the campaign committees he and Hendricks were announced to speak the same day in Rockville. Hendricks was then the Democratic candidate for

governor, and was in the zenith of his fame as stump speaker. He courteously invited Harrison to divide time with him and made the opening speech. The local Republican managers were amazed at the temerity of a stripling who dared to measure strength with the Goliath of the Indiana Democracy, and showed their distrust of his ability by leaving the courthouse. Harrison, who had been seasoned and warmed for the work by speaking every day for weeks, assumed the aggressive, and as his few political friends began to show their appreciation by applause, the audience increased until the courtroom was packed with enthusiastic Republicans, who crowded about the speaker when he closed and showered their congratulations upon him. Mr. Voorhees was present, and, feeling the force of the impression made by Harrison, arose when the speech was finished and said he would answer the speech that night in the same place.

Since 1860 he has taken an active part in every political canvass in Indiana. In that year he was elected reporter of the Supreme Court, and his official work may be found in ten volumes of the Indiana reports. His official and professional labors were onerous, but the tasks were lightened by the thought that he was paying for the modest cottage home which he had bought on credit. Then came the war, and Gov. Morton's call upon him to raise a regiment of volunteers. He enlisted, and in a few

weeks was commissioned colonel of the 70th Indiana infantry. He made arrangements to have the duties of his office of reporter performed in his absence, several of his professional brethren undertaking to do the work without cost to him, so that his home could be paid for. The Democrats put the name of a candidate for the office on their State ticket in 1862. The Republicans, supposing that Harrison would be allowed to serve out his term, made no nomination. No votes were cast except for the Democrat, and in a mandamus suit brought by him to compel the clerk to give him the manuscript opinions of the judges, the Supreme Court, composed of Democrats, decided that Harrison's enlistment vacated the office, and that the Democrat who was elected by default should fill it for the unexpired term. At the next election, in 1864, while Harrison was still in the field, he was re-elected by an overwhelming majority, and after the close of the war assumed the office and served out his full term.

The following is a brief summary of his military record: Benjamin Harrison was mustered into service as colonel of the 70th regiment of Indiana infantry volunteers with the field and staff of that regiment at Indianapolis, Ind., to date from Au gust 7, 1862, to serve three years. The following remarks appear opposite his name on the muster-in roll of the field and staff: “Mustered into service

as 2d lieutenant, July 14, 1862; as captain, July 22, 1862; and as colonel, August 7, 1862.” He was in command of his regiment from date of muster-in to August 20, 1863; of the brigade, 3d division, reserve corps, to about September 20, 1863; of his regiment to January 9, 1864; of the 1st brigade, 1st division, 11th army corps, to April 18, 1864; of his regiment to June 29, 1864; and of the 1st brigade, 3d division, 20th army corps, to September 23, 1864, when he was detailed for special duty in the State of Indiana. The exact date that he returned to duty in the field is not shown; but on November 12, 1864, he was directed to report in person to the general commanding at Nashville, Tenn., and subsequently commanded the 1st brigade, provisional division, army of the Cumberland, to January 16, 1865, when, upon his own application, he was relieved and directed to rejoin his proper command for duty in Gen. Sherman's army at Savannah, Ga. On his way via New York to rejoin his command at Savannah, he was stricken down with a severe fever and lay for several weeks at Narrowsburg, N. Y. When able to leave his bed he started for Savannah, but arrived too late to join Gen. Sherman, and was assigned to command the camp of convalescents and recruits at Blair's Landing, S. C., on the Pocotaligo river, and soon after joined Gen. Sherman's army at Raleigh. He resumed command of the 1st brigade,

3d division, 20th army corps, April 21, 1865; was relieved therefrom June 8, 1865, upon the discontinuance of the brigade by reason of the muster out of the troops composing it; and on the same date, June 8, 1865, was mustered out and honorably discharged as colonel with the field and staff of his regiment, near Washington, D. C. He was brevetted brigadier-general of volunteers January 23, 1865, “for ability and manifest energy and gallantry in command of brigade.” As a regimental commander he was in action at Russellville, Ky., September 30, 1862; in the Atlanta campaign, at Resaca, Ga., May 14-15, 1864; at Cassville, Ga., May 24, 1864; at New Hope, Ga., May 25, 1864; at Dallas, Ga., May 27-28, 1864; and at Kenesaw Mountain, Ga., June 10-28, 1864. As a brigade commander he participated in the operations at Kenesaw Mountain, Ga., June 29 to July 3, 1864; in the battle of Peach Tree creek, Ga., July 20, 1864; in the siege of Atlanta, Ga., July 21 to September 2, 1864; and in the battle of Nashville, Tenn., December 15-16, 1864; and was present at the surrender of Gen. Johnston's army at Durham's Station, N. C., April 26, 1865.

At the close of his term of office as reporter of the Supreme Court he resumed the law practice and soon had his hands full of work, being retained in almost every important case in the Federal and State courts at Indianapolis. In 1876 Godlove S.

Orth, the Republican candidate for governor, with drew from the canvass while Gen. Harrison was taking a vacation on the north shore of Lake Superior. Without consulting him, his name was put upon the ticket as candidate for governor, and when he arrived from the North an enthusiastic crowd met him at the station and escorted him to his home. The trading of horses while crossing the river did not work well, and though Gen. Harrison made a splendid canvass, running two thousand ahead of his ticket, the popularity of Gov. Hendricks, who was on the National ticket, pulled the whole Democratic State ticket through by a plurality of three thousand. The gallant fight made by Gen. Harrison in that losing battle imposed a debt of gratitude upon his party which has not been forgotten. In 1879 President Hayes appointed him a member of the Mississippi River Commission. In 1880 he was chairman of the Indiana delegation in the convention which nominated James A. Garfield. Some of his friends presented his name for the nomination in that convention, but he insisted that it should be withdrawn. His canvass of Indiana and other States during the campaign of 1880 was brilliant and effective.

President Garfield offered him a place in his cabinet, which he declined. He was chosen United States senator in 1881, and served until 1887. His course in the senate was such as to win the esteem

and friendship of his Republican colleagues and to command the respect of his political opponents. This was his first experience in a legislative body, but he soon took rank among the foremost debaters of the senate. Chairman of the Committee on Territories, he was persistent in his demand for the admission to statehood of North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Washington, and Idaho, and, though not succeeding at the time, he had the pleasure afterward of putting his presidential signature to the laws making them all States of the Union. In his speeches in the senate he criticised Mr. Cleveland's vetoes of the pension bills, voted and spoke in favor of an increase of the navy, the reform of the civil service, a judicious tariff reform; he favored every measure of public policy which had received the approval of his party. He had always been a strong partisan, and had believed and acted in the belief that since the Republican party was organized it has done nothing of which Republicans should be ashamed, or at least nothing to justify a change of allegiance from it to the Democratic party. From one point of view, such a course in a public man may be criticised. It may be doubted, however, if any Indiana Republican who has been confronted with the type of Democrats which have dominated that party for the last thirty years is to be censured for standing by his own party.

[ Fac-simile letter from Benjamin Harrison to Gen. James Grant Wilson ]

The Republican party leaders saw in 1888 that

the only hope of winning against Cleveland was to put up a candidate who could carry some of the doubtful States. Early in the year the Republican leaders in Indiana and almost the entire Republican press of the State pronounced in favor of Harrison, and his name was presented by the solid delegation to the convention at Chicago. On the first ballot he received 83 votes, standing fifth on the list, John Sherman standing first with 225. Seven more ballots were taken, during which Chauncey M. Depew withdrew and his supporters went to Harrison, giving him the nomination on the eighth ballot by a vote of 544.

There was great rejoicing on the part of his friends in Indiana, and as soon as the result was known there began a series of demonstrations which are without parallel in the history of presidential campaigns. On the day of the nomination a large delegation came to Indianapolis from Hendricks county in a special train and proceeded at once to Gen. Harrison's residence and called him out for a speech, and from that day until the election delegations kept coming from different parts of Indiana, from Kentucky, Ohio, Michigan, Kansas, Illinois, Iowa, and other States, all of which were received and welcomed by him in impromptu speeches which, by their appropriateness, variety, force, and elegance of style, won the approval of our best literary critics as well as of the public. In

these ninety-four speeches he made no slip. He said nothing that needed apology or explanation from his friends. Verbatim reports of the addresses were printed from day to day in all the leading papers of the country, and he never in anything he said gave his political opponents ground for unfriendly criticism. It is an open secret that some of the members of the National Republican committee were terrified when they learned that the “Hoosier” candidate had commenced the campaign by these free-spoken, off-hand talks with his neighbors. They proposed that some one should go to Indianapolis and put a stop to the business. A gentleman who knew Gen. Harrison's ability told them not to be alarmed, and at the end of a week the fearful gentlemen had changed their minds and said that if they would allow Gen. Harrison to go on in that way he would elect himself in spite of any blundering of the committee or campaign managers.

A few extracts from some of these speeches may give an idea of their quality. To the California delegation the day after the nomination he said: “I feel sure, too, my fellow-citizens, that we have joined now a contest of great principles, and that the armies which are to fight out this great contest before the American people will encamp upon the high plains of principle and not in the low swamps of personal defamation or detraction.” To a number of veterans of the Union army: “We went not as partisans but patriots into the strife which involved the national life. . . . The army was great in its assembling. It came with an impulse that was majestic and terrible. It was as great in its muster out as in the brilliant work which it had done in the field. . . . When the war was over. . . every man had in some humble place a chair by some fireside where he was loved and toward which his heart went forward with a quick step.” To the Tippecanoe club, composed of men who had voted for his grandfather in 1840 : “I came among you with the heritage, I trust, of a good name, such as all of you enjoy. It is the only inheritance that has been transmitted in our family.”

Gen. Harrison was not in the habit of boasting of his lineage, of which he had reason to be proud. If it was ever the subject of conversation in his presence he never introduced it. To a delegation of farmers: “The law throws the ægis of its protection over us all. It stands sentinel about your country homes; ... it comes into our more thickly populated community and speaks its mandate for individual security and public order. There is an open avenue through the ballot for the modification or repeal of laws which are unjust or oppressive. To the law we bow with reverence. It is the one king that commands our allegiance.” To a delegation of railway employees: “Heroism has been

found at the throttle and brake as well as upon the battlefield, and as well worthy of song and marble. The trainman crushed between the platforms, who used his last breath not for prayer or messages of love, but to say to the panic-stricken who gathered around him, ‘Put out the red light for the other train,’ inscribed his name very high upon the shaft where the names of the faithful and brave are written.” To an Illinois delegation: “It was on the soil of Illinois that Lovejoy died, a martyr to free speech. . . . Another great epoch in the march of liberty found on the soil of Illinois the theatre of its most influential event. I refer to that high debate in the presence of your people, but before the world, in which Douglas won the senatorship and Lincoln the presidency and immortal fame. . . . The wise work of our fathers in constituting this Government will stand all tests of internal dissension and revolution and all tests of external assault, if we can only preserve a pure, free ballot.”

To a delegation of coal-miners: “I do not care now to deal with statistics. One fact is enough for me. The tide of emigration from all European countries has been and is toward our shores. The gates of Castle Garden swing inward; they do not swing outward to any American laborer seeking a better country than this. . . . Here there are better conditions, wider and more hopeful prospects for workmen than in any other land. . . . The more

work there is to do in this country the higher the wages that will be paid for the doing of it. . . . A policy which will transfer work from our mines and our factories to foreign mines and foreign factor ies inevitably tends to a depression of wages here. These are truths that do not require profound study.” To an Indiana delegation: “I hope the time is coming, and has even now arrived, when the great sense of justice which possesses our people will teach men of all parties that party success is not to be promoted at the expense of an injustice to any of our citizens.” As early as July 31, 1888, he said: “But we do not mean to be content with our own market; we should seek to promote closer and more friendly commercial relations with the Central and South American states,. . . those friendly political and commercial relations which shall promote their interests equally with ours.” Addressing a company of survivors of his own regiment, he said: “It is no time now to use an apothecary's scale to weigh the rewards of the men who saved the country.” To a club of railroad employees: “The laboring men of this land may safely trust every just reform in which they are interested to public discussion and to the tests of reason; they may surely hope upon these lines, which are open to them, to accomplish, under our American institutions, all those right things they have conceived to be necessary to their highest success and well-being.” Addressing a meeting on the day of Sheridan's funeral: “He was one of those great commanders who, upon the field of battle, towered a very god of war. . . . He rested and refreshed his command with the wine of victory, and found recuperation in the dispersion of the enemy that confronted him.” To a delegation of farmers: “I congratulate you not so much upon the rich farms of your country as upon your virtuous and happy homes. The home is the best, as it is the first, school of citizenship.”

All these campaign speeches, with a description of the circumstances of their delivery, are collected in a volume published by Lovell & Co., of New York. But more remarkable than these are the one hundred and forty addresses delivered during his trip to the Pacific coast and back — a journey of 10,000 miles, which was accomplished in thirty-one days, from April 15 to May 15, 1890, without the variation of one minute from the prearranged schedule for arriving and departing from the hundreds of stations on the way. These addresses were non-political, and breathe throughout a spirit of high patriotism and a call to the high responsibilities of citizenship. In a letter to an American friend who had sent him the volume containing these speeches, the late Lord Coleridge says: “The speeches give me a very high idea of Mr. Harrison. We know very little here of your politicians, and

it is pleasant to be brought face to face with any one so manly and high-minded as Mr. Harrison shows himself in the book you sent me. The perpetual demand which American customs make upon anyone of the least position in the way of speech-making must be very trying. In a degree (not within 1,000 miles of the president) I found it so myself when I was in America. But a private foreigner may say what he likes; a president, of course, must watch his words.”

It was assumed that with Mr. Blaine in the cabinet President Harrison would be a very inconspicuous and unimportant person in the administration. It is one of the marked characteristics of the man that when he is assigned to a place he assumes all its responsibilities. As a lawyer he never shouldered himself to the front, but when placed in the lead he was the leader. The simple fact is, he was not for a moment overshadowed by any member of his cabinet. He insisted upon knowing what was going on in each department and maintained an intelligent supervision of them all. Nor is it detracting from the just fame of Mr. Blaine to say that by reason of that gentleman's failing health the work of the State Department was much more than usual the work of the president. Those who have known him long did not fail to see his hand in the discussion of the legal rights of aliens domiciled here, contained in the dignified note to the Italian government concerning the New Orleans massacre. The statement of the basis of our liability for wrong inflicted upon the subjects of friendly nations when they are the result of dereliction of duty by the local authorities was masterly, and the dignified manner in which that government was informed that the United States would be just, but would not be forced to a hasty decision, was admirable. In the Chile affair, in which that government denied its responsibility for the assaults upon our sailors at Santiago and refused safe conduct to some of the members of the Balmaceda administration who had taken refuge at the United States legation, President Harrison was earnest and persistent in his demands, and, as the correspondence shows, after waiting patiently for a response, and becoming weary at last of the vacillating conduct of the Chilian government, made a peremptory request, which was promptly and satisfactorily answered. It is due to the republic of Chile to say that during the whole of the controversy the rival parties in that country kept it in a state of constant revolution. The evidence in the case showed that our sailors were outraged because they belonged to the U. S. navy, and that the authorities of Chile permitted, if they did not connive at it. In such a case it would have been pusillanimous on the part of the Government to have failed to demand reparation.

The Bering sea controversy, now happily in settlement by arbitration, was full of difficulty when Mr. Blaine's sudden illness threw the burden of the matter for a time upon President Harrison. Lord Salisbury was delaying, the season for pelagic sealing was coming on, no modus vivendi had been agreed upon. President Harrison took measures for intercepting the Canadian sealers, and it was not long until the terms of the treaty were arranged. The statement of the “five points” submitted to the arbitrators by the treaty is a good specimen of President Harrison's thorough and comprehensive work. Eastern journals that were not friendly to President Harrison have generously united in endorsing the conduct of the State Department during his administration, and have especially commended it for being thoroughly patriotic and American. And it may be said from the time of his nomination until he retired from the presidential office he sustained himself with a dignity and ability commensurate with the responsibilities of his exalted station. His policy in regard to the tariff has been censured, but he simply maintained the views held by the majority of the Republican party, with which he has always been in sympathy. He is what may properly be called an out-and-out protectionist. His firm stand in favor of honest money gave confidence to the business interests of the country when they were imperilled by

the wild schemes of the advocates of free-silver coinage. He was renominated for the presidency by the Republican national convention at Minneapolis without serious opposition. He failed of re-election.

THE HOME OF BENJAMIN HARRISON, INDIANAPOLIS, IND.

Public opinion has been much divided as to the causes of this result. It was certainly not on account of any failure upon the part of President Harrison to carry out the policy of his party, or to realize the expectation of his friends in the ability shown by him in performing the duties of his station. The fatal illness of Mrs. Harrison, and her death a few days before the election, cast a shadow over the closing months of his official life. His administration as a whole was business-like in its management of our domestic affairs, dignified, firm, and patriotic in its foreign policy, promoting the prosperity of our people at home and keeping peace with all nations. In his last message to congress, on December 6, 1892, after giving a summary of the operations of the different departments, he said: “This exhibit of the work of the executive departments is submitted to congress and to the public in the hope that there will be found in it a due sense of responsibility, and an earnest purpose to maintain the national honor and to promote the happiness and prosperity of all our people. And this brief exhibit of the growth and prosperity of the country will give us a level from which

to note the increase or decadence that new legislative policies may bring to us. There is no reason why the national influence, power, and prosperity should not observe the same rates of increase that have characterized the past thirty years. We carry the great impulse and increase of these years into the future. There is no reason why, in many lines of production, we should not surpass all other nations, as we have already done in some. There are no near frontiers to our possible development. Retrogression would be a crime.”

Upon retiring from the presidency, Gen. Harrison was engaged by the late Senator Stanford, to deliver a course of lectures at the Leland Stanford, Jr., university, in California, on constitutional law. These were delivered during the early months of 1894. Foreigners who have studied our institutions have expressed regrets that in America no provision is made for the dignified retirement of our ex-presidents, and they have suggested that some office with a life tenure be bestowed upon them with a suitable provision for their support out of the public treasury. The temper of our people and the genius of our institutions are not in accord with any such desire. The great volunteer generals of the war came back to the ranks and took their places with their fellow-citizens in the walks of private life. So our great political leaders, from the senate and from the presidency, when

their term of office is over, come back to their homes and ordinary pursuits without any impairment of their dignity or their self-respect. In his retirement from the labors of his official station Gen. Harrison realized the truth of what he said in a speech on the day of his nomination in 1888: “Kings sometimes bestow decorations upon those whom they desire to honor, but that man is most highly decorated who has the affectionate regard of his neighbors and friends.” This he had in full measure. Judged by the standards of a few unprincipled and disappointed politicians who expected to thrive on the use and abuse of public patronage, Gen. Harrison was a cold-blooded man, But it is possible that such men are not as well qualified to judge of the temperature of a man's blood as his friends and intimates who have seen him in all the vicissitudes of his daily life, ministering with sympathy and self-sacrifice to relatives and friends who, overtaken by some great calamity, have found his heart as tender as a child's. The country takes little note of the petulant criticisms of its public servants, but it will hold at their true worth the great and useful virtues of ability, wisdom, integrity, courage, and patriotism whenever they are exhibited by men in high official station.

In April, 1896, the ex-president married Mrs. Mary Scott Lord Dimmock, and three years later he appeared as counsel in the Anglo-Venezuelan

boundary arbitration commission, concluding his argument in Paris September 27, 1899. He is the author of “This Country of Ours” (New York, 1897). His life was written by Gen. Lewis Wallace (Philadelphia, 1888). A selection of Gen. Harrison's speeches, edited by Charles Hedges, appeared in 1888, and another collection was published four years later. He died in Indianapolis March 13, 1901.

His wife,, born in Oxford, Ohio, October 1, 1832; died in Washington, D. C., October 25, 1892, was the daughter of John W. Scott, who was a professor in Miami university at the time of her birth, and afterward became president of the seminary in Oxford. She was graduated at the seminary in 1852, the same year that Gen. Harrison took his degree at the university, and was married to him on October 20, 1853. She was a musician, and was also devoted to painting, besides which she was a diligent reader, and gave part of her time to literary clubs, of several of which she was a member. Mrs. Harrison was a manager of the orphan asylum in Indianapolis and a member of the Presbyterian church in that city, and until her removal to Washington taught a class in Sunday-school. They had two children. The son, Russell, was graduated at Lafayette in 1877 as a mining engineer, and served in Cuba in the war

with Spain with the rank of major in the volunteers. The daughter, Mary, married James R. McKee, a prosperous merchant of Indianapolis, Ind., who has since removed to New York.


text:
Page:A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, Volume 1 (1903).djvu/27

 m. pl. (=; cmp. =, v. ) underclothes, inexpressibles, breeches (cmp. Lat. bracæ, braccæ—of Oriental origin). Y. Sabb. XVI, 15$d$ Ar. (ed. Krot. ; Bab. ib. 120$a$, Ms. M. , Ar. ; Rashi genouilliers, a. German Kniehosen). Y'lamd. B'resh. quot. in Ar. (expl. Dan. III, 21)  (fem.) the underclothes put around their loins.

f. pl. (, v., a. ) hyssop (used against indigestion &c.). Sabb. 128$a$ (explaining ). Ib. 109$b$ (mentioning two species, one named =, the other =). Ab. Zar. 29$a$ Ms. M. a. Ar. (ed. ).

m. (=) something dried; parched or dried ears of grain. Meg. 7$b$; Ps. 39$b$ flour of roasted ears. Ib. 40$a$ Ar. (ed. ) a basin wherein ears are roasted.

v..

(Samar. rendition of b. h. ; cmp. ) to spell (letters), blaspheme, swear. Snh. 101$b$ Ar. (ed. ), the Boraitha remarks (to as in Mishn. a. l.) this (condemnation of one uttering the name of the Lord) refers to the country (not the Temple), and in the sense of Samaritan aga (swearing). Cmp. Y. Snh. X, 28$b$ top in a way as those Samaritans swear.

Gen. R. s. 28, beg., read.

(contr. of =, cmp. ) prop. on the back, on top of, hence, upon, on the basis; (logic.) by dint of, on account of; by the way of. Snh. 95$b$ while on thy road, i. e. incidentally, occasionally. Freq. , v. .—B. Mets. 21$b$ because they are heavy.—Ib. ll$b$, a. fr. the sale of movable chattel made binding by dint of immovable property jointly sold; cmp. .—Kid. 26$b$ by means of somebody else (taking possession in behalf of the absent person). Ib. 27$a$ is it necessary that he must say, 'Acquire movable by dint of acquiring landed property'?—Pes. 113$a$ every claim the legality of which rests on some additional circumstance (e. g. a loan collectible only on producing the note of indebtedness) requires collection (cannot be considered actual property until collected).—Sabb. 116$a$ the parchment is sacred only on account of the sacred character of what is written on it.—Shebu. 40$b$, v. ; a. fr.

v..

v., end.

m. (=, h., ) calix or corolla of flowers. Y. Kil. IX, 32$a$ top the cissaros blossom (v. Lat. Dict. s. v. cissaros, Gr. Dict. s. v. ) "a woolly substance growing on stones at the Dead Sea, looking like gold, and being very soft; its name is   and it resembles sheep-wool".—(R. Ash. a. l. in Mishn.). Y. Sabb. II, 4$c$ top, corr. acc. [Var. lect. =?, .—Sabb. 20$b$, our w. appears as , , obviously a corruption of cissaros; Rashi ib. expl. 'the shell of the cocoon', prob. confounding with chrysallis which is likewise named from its gold color.]

(√, sec. r. of, v. , cmp. , , ) 1) to twine around, tie up; to close, forbid. Succ. III, 1 ; a. fr.—Sabb. 60$a$ Ar. (ed. , Ms. M. ) she fastens her hair with it.—Pes. 87$a$ ed. (Ms. M., v. Hif.) the maidens in Israel who forbid intimacy to their betrothed. Erub. 21$b$ ed. (missing in Ms. M.).—2) (denom. of ) to form a union or faction. Sifré Deut. 294, v. Nif. [B. Bath. 14$a$, v. a. .]

Nif. to be tied up, united &c. Maasr. I, 5 vegetables ordinarily put up in bunches, are subject to tithes from the time they are tied. Y. Erub. III, 20$d$ top.— Sifré Deut. 296 (read ) no alliance (of the surrounding nations) shall be formed against thee.

Hif., contr. , part. ,, to tie up, fence in, forbid. Erub. 21$b$; Pes. 87$a$ Ms. M. (play on מגדים Cant. VII, 14) who forbid &c, v. supra (Rashi:, v. , who announce their menstruation); v..

ch. same to tie. Part. pass,. Yeb. 39$b$ is she not tied to him?, hence he must marry her.

(√, v. a. ), Hif. to stretch, prolong, postpone. Erub.21$b$; Pes. 87$a$ (Ar. s. v., v. however ) who postpone (reserve) sexual intimacy for their husbands. Y. Keth. V, 29$d$ bot. I will extend (spend all the time of) my widowhood in my husband's house.

ch. same; to be lengthened. Targ. Y. Ex. XIX, 13; Deut. XXX, 6. Denom. .

m. (foreg.) long staff, whence 1) crutch. Targ. II Sam. III, 29 (some ed. ).—2) pole used as a yoke to carry burdens on the shoulder. B. Mets 83$a$ Ar., Ms. H., Oxf. &c. (Ms. M., ed. , v. Rabb. D. S. a. l. note) who carry a burden on a yoke. Bets. 30$a$ (v. Rabb. D. S. a. l. note 3); Sabb. 148$a$ Ms. M. marg. ! (v. Rabb. D. S. a. l. note 6). V..

m. 1) tie, knot. Succ. 10$b$, a. fr.  must be tied together. Ib.  if the tie of the Lulab became loosened. Erub. 101$b$ sq.  (a. twice, Rabb. in D. S. a. l. ) when the door pin is handled by pulling the cord knotted to it.—2) bunch. Y. Ter. II, 41$b$ a bunch of herbs that became unclean.—3) surgical bandage. Sabb. 53$a$.

ch. same. Succ. 33$b$ (fem.!) it requires a substantial binding.


text:
Author:William Pinckney Fishback

Works

 * “Benjamin Harrison” in The Presidents of the United States, 1789-1914, 1914

title: Author:William Pinckney Fishback


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/74

48 dead stones can be taken from the board without further play.

Plate 9 shows the same game after the dead stones have been removed and used to fill up the respective territories, and after the board has been reconstructed in accordance with the Japanese method, and it will be seen that in this case Black has won by one stone. This result can be arrived at equally well by counting up the spaces on Plate 8, but they are easier to count on Plate 9, after the "Me wo tsukuru" has been done.

Plate 10 shows another completed game. This plate is from Korschelt, and is interesting because it contains an instructive error. The game is supposed to be completed, and the black stone at C 18 is said to be dead. This is not true, because Black by playing at C 17 could not only save his stone, but kill the four white stones at the left-hand side. Therefore, before this game is completed, White must play at C 17 to defend himself. This is called "Tsugu." On the left-hand side of the board is shown a white group which is dead, and the method of reduction of which we have already studied in detail. On the right side of the board are a few scattering black stones which are dead, because they have no chance of forming a group with the necessary two "Me." The question may be asked whether it is necessary for White to play at C 1 or E 1 in order to complete the connection of the group in the corner, but he is not obliged so to do unless Black chooses to play at B 1 or F 1, which, of course, Black would not do.

On Plate 11, this game also is shown as reconstructed for counting, and it will be seen that White has won by two stones. Really this is an error of one stone, as White

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/74


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/78

52 should have played at C 17, as we have previously pointed out.

Sometimes at the end of the game players of moderate skill may differ as to whether there is anything left to be done, and when one thinks there is no longer any advantage to be gained by either side, he says, "Mo arimasen, aru naraba o yuki nasai," that is to say, "I think there is nothing more to be done; if you think you can gain anything, you may play," and sometimes he will allow his adversary to play two or three times in succession, reserving the right to step in if he thinks there is a chance of his adversary reviving a group that is apparently dead.

No part of the rules of the game has been more difficult for me to understand than the methods employed at the end, and especially the rule in regard to the removal of dead stones without actually surrounding them, but I trust in the foregoing examples I have made this rule sufficiently clear. Moreover, it is not always easy to tell whether stones are dead or alive. There is a little poem or "Hokku" in Japanese, which runs as follows:

which might be translated as "Oh! what kind of a Go player is he who does not know whether his stones are alive or dead!" But while the Japanese author of this "Hokku" may have regarded it as a simple thing, the Occidental student of the game would not be likely to share his views. An instance of this is shown by the possibilities of the supposedly dead black stone on Plate 10, and I think it would be fairer to state that the skill of a good Go player is most

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/78


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Harding, Chester


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/80

54 clearly shown by his ability to recognize immediately whether a group is dead or can be saved; the study of our chapter on Problems will give further illustrations of the difficulty and nicety of such decisions.

We now come to the question of handicaps. Handicaps are given by the stronger player allowing the weaker player to place a certain number of stones on the board before the game begins, and we have seen in the chapter on the Description of the Board that these stones are placed on the nine dotted intersections. If one stone is given, it is usual to place it in the upper right-hand corner. If a second stone is given, it is placed in the lower left-hand corner. If a third stone is given, it is placed in the lower right-hand corner. The fourth is placed in the upper left-hand corner. The fifth is placed at the center or "Ten gen." When six are given, the center one is removed, and the fifth and sixth are placed at the left and right-hand edges of the board on line 10. If seven are given, these stones remain, and the seventh stone is placed in the center. If eight are given, the center stone is again removed, and the seventh and eighth stones are placed on the "Seimoku" on line K. If the ninth is given, it is again placed in the center of the board.

Between players of reasonable skill more than nine stones are never given, but when the disparity between the players is too great, four other stones are sometimes given. They are placed just outside the corner "Seimoku," as shown on the diagram (Plate 12), and these extra stones are called "Furin" handicaps. "Furin" means "a small bell," as these stones suggest to the Japanese the bells which hang from the eaves at the corners of a Japanese temple. When the disparity between the players is very great indeed,

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/80


text: United States Statutes at Large/Volume 1/3rd Congress/2nd Session/Chapter 1


text:
Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/82

56 four more stones are given, and when given they are placed on the diagonal halfway between the corner "Seimoku" and the center. These four stones are called "Naka yotsu," or "the four middle stones," but such a handicap could only be given to the merest novice.

We have now completed a survey of all the actual rules of the game, and it may be well to summarize them in order that their real simplicity may be clearly seen; briefly, they are as follows:

 The object of the game is to obtain vacant territory. The stones are placed on the intersections and on any vacant intersection the player chooses (except in the case of "Ko"). After they are played they are not moved again.   One or move stone which are compactlycompletely [sic] surrounded by the stones of the other side are to be taken are are at once removed from the board. Stones which, while not actually surrounded can inevitably surounded, are dead, and can be taken from the board at the end of the game without further play. Taken or dead stone are used to fill up the adversary's territory.  The game is at an end when the opposing groups of stone are in absolute contact (the case of "Seki" being the single exception).</li> </ol>

It is not possible to imagine a game with simpler rules, or the elements of which are easier to acquire.

We will now turn our attention to few considerations as the the best methods of play, and of certain moves and formations which occur in every game, and also to the manes which in Japanese are used to designate these things.

title: Page:Smith - The game of go.djvu/82


text: The Game of Go/Chapter III

title: The Game of Go/Chapter III


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/15

Rh This is the Tea Plant, which grows in China where our tea comes from.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/15


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/14

Rh Above is the picture of the Fennec, a native of Algiers.—Its favorite food is Dates; but it will eat eggs and bread. It builds its nest in trees instead of burrowing in the earth.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/14


text: Pacchiarotto/A Forgiveness

title: Pacchiarotto/A Forgiveness


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/13

Rh The Hoopoe. This splendid bird exists all over Europe.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/13


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/12

Rh What a fine Watermellon, who would not like to eat a good rich Watermellon? They grow in all parts of the United States. In New England they are generally small, but large in the middle and western states.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/12


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/French Revolution, The (Carlyle)

FRENCH REVOLUTION, The. Everyone knows the story how the manuscript of the first book of Carlyle's masterpiece, ‘The French Revolution,’ was lost. He lent it to his friend, John Stuart Mill, who in turn lent it to his Egeria, Mrs. Taylor; and Mrs. Taylor's housemaid used it to light the fires with. But

everyone does not know how Carlyle took the loss. Mill and Mrs. Taylor went together to tell him the news. It was a long and painful interview, for Mill most injudiciously stayed talking for three hours. All through the ordeal, Carlyle's whole endeavor was to relieve Mill's distress at having caused such an irreparable loss. His own distress came later when the visitor was gone. The “ill-bred Scotch collie-dog,” as he had been called, played the part of a very chivalrous gentleman. No Chesterfield could have done more. Then, consoled by his admirable wife, he sat down and rewrote the whole book, a marvelous feat of memory and determination.

The completed work has been called drama rather than history; and the usual advice to the tiro is to read some plain forthright narrative of the events of the Revolution before attacking Carlyle's version; but a very bare outline will suffice. If the reader but surrender himself to the poet-historian's dramatic method and rouse his mind to co-operate, he will come to know this period as he can know no other; for Carlyle will make him live in the heart of it. This most artistic of all Carlyle's works is cast on the lines of a great tragedy with a definite beginning, middle and end. The curtain rises on the room where Louis the Well-beloved is dying of smallpox, and falls on the streets of Paris cleared of the Revolution by Napoleon's “whiff of grape-shot.” The central catastrophe is the violent death of the false, effete, bankrupt ancien régime. Carlyle realizes the events himself so strongly that he almost persuades the reader he is a living witness of the scenes portrayed. Urged by hunger, the women of Paris stream out in long procession to Versailles and bring the royal family back with them, “the baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's little boy,” as they call them; for the people still have faith in their king's power to relieve their distress. At the time, it seems no more than another bread-riot. The reader is not conscious of the implications or consequences of this act, just like any observant Parisian of the time. But events march swiftly on; the net of fate tightens around the luckless king and queen; they become prisoners; they must stand trial; they must set their heads under the axe of the guillotine. Equally vivid is his portraiture of the actors in the great drama, Mirabeau, Danton, Robespierre, Marat, for Carlyle possessed what his friend Emerson called “portrait-seeing, portrait-painting eyes,” which were as effective in dealing with the past as with the actually visible present.

Carlyle's own account of its composition is the best criticism. “It all stands pretty fair in my head, nor do I mean to investigate much more about it, but to splash down what I know in large masses of colours, that it may look like a smoke-and-flame conflagration in the distance, which it is.” When he had completed the manuscript in January 1837, he wrote to Sterling: “It is a wild savage book, itself a kind of French Revolution. . . it has come hot out of my own soul, born in blackness, whirlwind and sorrow.” These remarks are illuminating. All history is interpretation of events; and the interpretation is conditioned by the historian's training, outlook, opportunities, political and religious views, even when he does not try to make history fit a theory. Other histories of the Revolution, such as Taine's, are stronger in analysis of the origins and causes of this cataclysm; but Carlyle succeeds in giving back the actual impression the Revolution made upon the world at the time, the impression of storm and earthquake, volcano and eclipse. Nor must it be inferred that his work was superficial. It was based on “indefatigable investigations,” pursued with a rare love of truth. Modern criticism may gnaw at slight defects, but it cannot impugn the solidity of this great book. Traill says that it has made this terrible drama of a foreign people as real to many English readers as any passage in English history delineated by Shakespeare or by Scott.

“This book gave Carlyle at a single step his unique position as a man of letters,” says Carlyle's friend and biographer. It established his reputation as a man of extraordinary gifts among the greatest of the time. Dickens carried a copy of it with him wherever he went. From it he derived the inspiration for ‘A Tale of Two Cities.’ Southey read and reread it six different times. Thackeray welcomed it in an enthusiastic review. Even Jeffrey, an outspoken critic of the old school, admitted its success in the teeth of all the rules and precedents.

Dr. J. Holland Rose, the learned authority on Napoleon, has produced an annotated edition of ‘The French Revolution’; but perhaps the most illuminating aid to the understanding of this masterpiece is Mr. Edmund J. Sullivan's graphic interpretation of the text in a remarkable series of symbolic designs for the two-volume edition of Chapman and Hall, 1910. The genius of Carlyle is matched by the art of this master of black and white.


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/11

Rh This is a Mexican, and his Horse. His Horse is dressed very fine. The Mexicans are very fond of making a great display.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/11


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/10

Rh Here is the leaf and flower of the Catalpa; a splendid tree which grows in the southern states.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/10


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/9

Rh See what a fine Field Pea. Peas make good food for men.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/9


text: Talk:Life in the Open Air and other papers


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/8

Rh Here is a Farmer's house.—A Cow stands before their door, and the Farmer's wife or daughter is milking in a pail, see how still she stands to be milked. Butter and Cheese is made from milk.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/8


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/7

Rh See what a fine fish. There are a great variety of fishes in the sea, also in Lakes, Rivers and Ponds. They are sometimes caught with a hook, and sometimes with a net. Fishermen will often take several hundred at a time with a net, and will load a boat or ship in a short time. Many consider it good sport to go fishing.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/7


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/6

Rh Here is a Cat catching Mice. The cat mews and purs.

Here is a Dog. The dog growls and barks.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/6


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/5

is a picture of a Ship. All her sails are spread and she is ready to go over the sea; perhaps to London or Paris.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/5


text:
Page:Language and the Study of Language.djvu/132

110 in their phraseology; nor can any one's doctrine upon recondite points be fully understood save by those who have studied longest and most thoroughly the entirety of his system—nor always even by them.

As the significant changes of language thus bring the same word to the office of designating things widely different, so they also bring different words to the office of designating the same or nearly the same thing. Thus the resources of expression are enriched in another way, by the production of synonyms, names partly accordant, partly otherwise, distinguishing different shades and aspects of the same general idea. I will refer to but a single instance. The feeling of shrinking anticipation of imminent danger, in its most general manifestation, is called fear: but for various degrees and manifestations of fear we have also the names fright, terror, dread, alarm, apprehension, panic, tremor, timidity, fearfulness, and perhaps others. Each of these has its own relations and associations; there is hardly a case where any one of them is employed that one or other of the rest might not be put in its place; and yet, there are also situations where only one of them is the best term to use—though the selection can only be made, or appreciated when made, by those who are nicest in their treatment of language, and though no one who does not possess unusual acuteness and critical judgment can duly describe and illustrate the special significance of each term. We are not to suppose, however, that our synonymy covers all the distinctions, in this or in any other case, that might be drawn, and drawn advantageously. On learning another language, we may find in its vocabulary a richer store of expressions for the varieties of this emotion, or a notation of certain forms of it which we do not heed. Hardly any word in one tongue precisely fills the domain appropriated to the word most nearly corresponding with it in another, so that the former may be invariably translated by the latter. The same territory of significance is differently parcelled out in different tongues among the designations which occupy it; nor is it ever completely covered by them all. The varying shades of fear are practically infinite, depending on differences of constitutional


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Frederick the Great

FREDERICK THE GREAT. “A tyrant of extraordinary military and political talents, of industry more extraordinary still, without fear, without faith, without mercy” is Macaulay's estimate of the greatest of all the Hohenzollerns. In the light of the Great War, Macaulay's essay reads like prophecy, while Carlyle's glorification of unscrupulous force as embodied in Frederick seems like courting the destruction which burst upon the world in August 1914. All that Macaulay wrote about Frederick's great crime of violating his plighted faith, of robbing the ally whom he was bound to defend, and of plunging all Europe into “a long, bloody and desolating war” applies to Frederick's descendant; but Carlyle admired Old Fritz because he was the only man in the 18th century who managed not to be a hypocrite. Carlyle was a romantic historian, and his history of Frederick was his magum opus. That he should select this subject was almost the inevitable result of his German studies. Having acquired the language as a key to mineralogy, he translated various German works, wrote, in a series of essays, what is practically a history of German literature, and found in Goethe a working theory of life. With this vivid interest in everything German, it was only natural that Carlyle should be attracted by the military genius who made his little German kingdom great and formidable, and set it on its career of ever-growing power. To tell Frederick's story, Carlyle found it necessary to trace the history of his house from the earliest times. This was the greatest task of his life, and it set the pinnacle upon the edifice of his fame. It rounded out his literary life. Upon its completion, he received the honor he valued most, election as Lord Rector of his old university of Edinburgh, whither he had come a poor country boy of 13, more than 50 years before. In the hour of his greatest triumph came his greatest loss, the sudden death of his brilliant wife. He did no more work. His remaining years were a gradual declension to the grave.

Carlyle himself called his greatest work, his ‘Thirteen Years War’ with Frederick. In 1852 he made his first trip to Germany to gather material, visiting the scenes of his hero's battles and noting their topography with unerring accuracy. The first two volumes appeared in 1858 and the last two in 1865.

Emerson considered it “Infinitely the wittiest book that was ever written.” Lowell criticized it with discrimination. While pointing out its obvious faults, he wrote: “The figures of most historians seem like dolls stuffed with bran, whose whole substance runs out through any

hole that criticism may tear in them; but Carlyle's are so real in comparison, that, if you prick them, they bleed.”

So true are Carlyle's narratives of Frederick's battles, that his work was studied as a textbook in the military academies of Germany.


text:
Life in the Open Air: Introductory Note

This is the last volume of Theodore Winthrop's works. The reader will be interested to know that, with a very few slight omissions, they are published precisely as he left them. Beside these, which he had himself prepared for the press, there remains manuscript enough for more than another volume, comprising poems, lectures, sketches, the beginning of another novel, and a completed earlier tale; but not in fit form for publication. A man who wrote so much and so well was not of course indifferent to the publication of his works, for the desire of an audience is part of the author's instinct; and that they are first printed after his death is not owing to any want of effort upon his part, but to circumstances which no author can control. He can but do his work. It is for others to receive or decline it.

At the close of a lecture upon the Fine Arts in America, which he wrote in 1856, Winthrop said: "This composite people may, in its wide realm, attain to the most varied splendor of success in all pursuits that can make its future rich, refined, noble, and happy. But let us not forget that our march must be sustained by a hearty devotion to the true principles of freedom. If we fail of public or private duty,—if we cleave to any national wrong,—this great experiment of mankind will fail, and our life corrupt away, through slow decaying, to dishonorable death."

In that faith Theodore Winthrop wrote and fought,—he lived and died.

 * G. W. C.
 * Staten Island, February, 1863.

title: Life in the Open Air: Introductory Note


text:
Page:Language and the Study of Language.djvu/133

III.] to such a feeling, on differences of character and habit which would make it lead to different action. Hence the impossibility that one should ever apprehend with absolute truth what another, even with the nicest use of language, endeavours to communicate to him. This incapacity of speech to reveal all that the mind contains meets us at every point. The soul of each man is a mystery which no other man can fathom: the most perfect system of signs, the most richly developed language, leads only to a partial comprehension, a mutual intelligence whose degree of completeness depends upon the nature of the subject treated, and the acquaintance of the hearer with the mental and moral character of the speaker.

It not infrequently happens that a variation of phonetic form comes in to aid the variation of significant content of a word. That minúte portion of time of which sixty make an hour we call mínute (mín-it). Of and off are but different English forms of the same Anglo-Saxon word, the latter retaining the full significance of the ancient preposition, the former having acquired a greatly attenuated and extended sense. Can is a variety of ken, 'to know,' and means etymologically 'to know how;' the language-makers had observed that "knowledge is power" long before it occurred to Lord Bacon to make the remark. Worked and wrought, owned, owed, and ought, are identical in all their constituent elements, however differently understood and employed by us. A yet more notable diversity, both of form and meaning, has been established between also and as. Gentle, genteel, and gentile all go back to the Latin gentilis, which means simply 'pertaining to a gens or race.' So with legal, loyal, and leal, so with fragile and frail, with secure and sure—of which the former come more directly from the Latin, the other from the corrupted French forms. So, too, with manœuvre and manure, corps and corpse, think and thank, and a host of other words which might readily be adduced.

Among the examples already given, not a few have illustrated the transfer of a word from a physical to a spiritual significance. This method of change is one of such prominent importance in the development of language that it


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Heroes and Hero-worship

HEROES AND HERO-WORSHIP. In 1837 Carlyle had produced ‘The French Revolution’ (q.v.), which established his fame, but brought him little money. Good friends rallied to his aid, and helped to set him on his feet by organizing courses of public lectures for him, drumming up an audience and selling guinea tickets. Between 1837 and 1840, Carlyle delivered four such courses; the proceeds tided him over his money difficulties, and put him definitely beyond the reach of want. The final course on “Heroes” was the greatest success of all, Carlyle's “crowning mercy,” as a lecturer. From the notes he had prepared for this course, he wrote out the book, ‘Heroes and Hero-Worship,’ reproducing the curious effects of the spoken discourses. The book was as suocessful as the lectures.

To describe ‘Heroes’ as an introduction to universal history might seem to overweight it; but the survey covers roughly the whole activity of man upon the planet. Carlyle was an historian dowered with a unique style, a penetrating and constructive imagination, and a sense of the picturesque vouchsafed to few. No previous book presented such a series of arresting, original generalizations on history, or such just appreciations of so many diverse careers and personalities. Mahomet, Dante, Shakespeare, Luther, Knox, Johnson, Rousseau, Burns, Cromwell and Napoleon are characterized in unforgettable terms as well as the movements they represented, or conducted. Carlyle's power of appreciation was catholic. For the first time in English, be showed that Mahomet was somethmg more than a sensualist and an imposter. For the first time, he pictured the real Oliver Cromwell. Following up this first pronouncement, with his monumental history of the great Puritan leader, he absolutely reversed English opinion and made possible the statue of the regicide in the Palace Yard at Westminster. Lord Acton says Carlyle invented Oliver Cromwell. On all these representative men, Carlyle had true and weighty things to say which had never been said before.

The book made its influence felt at once on current thinking. In 1849, an acute foreign observer wrote: “The rehabilitation of the hero is to-day of all Carlyle's ideas the most widely spread, and the one which has made head tnost rapidly. . . . This idea is the basis of Emerson's philosophy, and has inspired all his essays on confidence in oneself, and the power of the individual.’ Ruskin's determination to do something and be something has been attributed to his reading of ‘Heroes.’ It had also a great influence upon the life and character of Phillips Brooks. To aspiring youth with high hopes and lofty ideals it has a special appeal.


text:
Page:Language and the Study of Language.djvu/134

112 requires at our hands a more special treatment. By it has been generated the whole body of our intellectual, moral, and abstract vocabulary; every word and phrase of which this is composed, if we are able to trace its history back to the beginning, can be shown to have signified originally something concrete and apprehensible by the senses: its present use is the result of a figurative transfer, founded on the recognition of an analogy between a physical and a mental act or product. Let us look, for example, at a few of the terms which we have just been using. Abstract is 'drawn off, dragged away;' concrete is 'grown together, compacted,' into something substantial, as we say; that is, something that 'stands beneath,' constitutes a foundation. Spirit is 'breath.' Intellect comes from a verb signifying 'to gather or select among, to choose between.' Apprehend signifies literally 'to lay hold of,' and we still use it in that sense, as when we say that the officer apprehends the felon; but we much more often apply it to the laying hold, the seizing or catching, of something set before our minds to be received; and we even speak of an apprehended calamity, as if our anticipations reached out and laid hold upon that which has not yet come, and may never come, upon us. Sympathy is good Greek for 'companionship in suffering;' but if we say that two wounded men on neighbouring pallets sympathize, we refer, not to their physical distress, but to that unselfish emotional pain with which every noble heart, forgetting so far its own griefs, is touched at the sight of another's. To possess is 'to sit by, to beset' (like the German equivalent, besitzen). When we employ the phrase "I propose to discuss an important subject," of what a medley of metaphors should we be guilty, if we had not forgotten the etymological meaning of the terms we use! To propose is 'to set in front' of us; to discuss is 'to shake to pieces;' a subject is a thing 'thrown under,' something brought under our notice; important means 'carrying within'—that is, having a content, not empty or valueless.

This subject admits of easiest and most abundant illustration from the Latin side of our language, because so large a share of our abstract phraseology comes to us from Latin


text:
Page:Language and the Study of Language.djvu/135

III.] sources; yet our Germanic words are full of the same kind of meaning. One of our commonest intellectual terms, understand, is also one presenting an exceptionally bold and difficult figure: as if to 'stand beneath' (or perhaps, according to the older meaning of under, to 'stand in the midst of') a thing were to take such a position of advantage with regard to it that it could not help disclosing to us its secrets. Forget is the opposite of get, and means to 'fail to get,' or, having gotten, to lose again from possession. In this latter sense the language seizes upon it, but arbitrarily restricts its application to a mental possession, and makes the compound signify 'to lose from memory' only. I get my lesson, and forget it again; but the fortune I had once gotten I have by no means forgotten, when an unlucky venture has made it slip from my hands. Forgive has had a somewhat similar history. It signifies primarily to 'give up.' I forgive a debt (in phrase now antiquated) when I magnanimously yield it up to him by whom it is due, waiving my claim against him on account of it: I forgive an offence when in like manner I voluntarily release the offender from obligation to make amends, from liability to penalty, for it. It is only by what was originally a blunder of construction that we now talk of forgiving the offender, as well as the offence—a blunder like that which we have made in the treatment of more than one other word: for instance, in please and like; we said "if you please," "if you like," i. e. 'if it please you,' 'if it like you,' until we forgot that the you was object of the verb used impersonally, and, apprehending it as subject, began to say also "if I please," "if they like;" and again, in reproach, which means strictly to 'approach again,' to bring up anew before a person what he would fain forget, and, until its etymology was forgotten, took for direct object the offence, and for indirect the offender; as, "I reproached to my friend his fault." Befall is 'fall upon;' but, if some unlucky person is crushed under the ruins of his dwelling, we speak, not of the house, but only of the accident, as having befallen him. Right is 'straight, direct;' wrong is 'wrung, twisted;' queer is 'crosswise'—and so on, through the whole list of words of the same kind.


text:
Page:Language and the Study of Language.djvu/136

114 There is a large and important class of words, the history of whose development of meaning illustrates, not so much an elimination of the physical element, a transfer from a sensible to an intellectual use, as an effacement of significance, a fading-out of distinctive colour, a withdrawal of substantiality, a reduction to the expression of relation rather than of quality. Take as an instance the preposition of, already referred to as having been, not long since, undistinguished from off, in either form or meaning. Off still retains its distinct physical sense, of removal in place; it means 'from, away from, forth from;' in of, we have attenuated this original idea of removal, procedure, derivation, into the most general and indefinite one of possession, appurtenance, connection: we say the top of the mountain, though the former is not off, but on, the latter; we say the father of the boy, as well as the son of the man; we say a sword of steel, pride of birth, the time of Moses, the city of Athens, and so on. For, from fore, 'in front of,' has passed through a process closely similar. Also (A.-S. ealswa) was made up of all and so, and meant 'altogether thus, in just that way, in like wise;' now, like the abbreviated form of the last expression, likewise, it simply adds a circumstance coördinate with one already mentioned; it is hardly more than a particle of connection. As, as was pointed out above, is a mutilated form of the same word, with its demonstrative meaning usually converted into a relative: the act of apprehension which, in a phrase like "he is as good as he is great' (that is, 'he is in that degree or manner good in which degree he is great'), attributes a demonstrative sense to the former as, and a relative to the latter, is not less arbitrary than the one which attributes, in "the more, the merrier" (that is, 'in what degree more, in that degree merrier'), a relative sense to the former the, and a demonstrative to the latter. All those relative words which bind the parts of a sentence together into an organic whole, instead of leaving it a congeries of independent clauses, are of like origin, coming by a gradual change of meaning from words originally demonstrative or interrogative. "I knew that he was ill" is but an altered form of "he was ill; I


text:
Page:Child's picture book.djvu/3

PUBLISHED BY RUFUS MERRILL.

title: Page:Child's picture book.djvu/3


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/French River

FRENCH RIVER, Canada, stream in Ontario. It drains Lake Nipissing and empties into the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron after a course of 55 miles. For 150 years it was the regular route to the upper lakes, and is noted for its magnificent scenery.