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Rh in consequence of the theatening rain, he has spread his white handkerchief over his new hat, by these marks he will be clearly enough known to you: he is an elderly man, who, I should think, has never been a soldier. Bring him here safe and sound with his dispatches."

Bertrand took with him two assistants, and mounted on light ponies, they hurried down the mountain towards the well known ravine.

Lacoste listened to these instructions with staring eyes: "Little brother," said he thoughtfully, "if thy information be at all true, thy little finger has more penetration than the whole of my large body. But I still believe, thy red-coated courier will not be found in the circle of created beings, and good Bertrand will have been made a little bit of an April-fool by his general, in order to afford some innocent amusement to the bridal pair. If it's not all a humbug, well and good, more must be said about it when an opportunity occurs."


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 39

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

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 39


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26 present only be supposed to occur, another kind of dimorphism is known with certainty, in which also protective colouration is involved. In this case the nature of the colour to be developed is determined by the quality of the light radiating from the surroundings of the animal. Most of you must be familiar with the beautiful experiments of Professor Poulton on caterpillars and pupae, which demonstrate this. The caterpillars of Amphidasis betularia take on a colouration similar to that of the twigs on which they live from the first; and one can cause them to become 'black, brown, or bright green by the presence of similarly-coloured twigs (or paper) in their surroundings, although fed on the same food .' In like manner the pupae of Vanessa urticae become dark blackish-brown when they undergo transformation on a dark ground; but assume a light colour or even a strong golden sheen when they have settled on a light ground. In these cases, again, it cannot be supposed that the primary constituents for polymorphism have possibly arisen directly owing to the light; they must rather have been produced as an adaptation by processes of selection. But each of the possible colours of the skin originating in this way is specially sensitive to certain kinds of light and is roused to activity by these alone.

This instance leads us to those in which the same individual is able to change colour in a short


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Rh "May it not be allowed to-day," began young Stephen, blushing up to the eyes, "to play a little on the flute?" while he was yet asking, he took it in his hand, and Roland smilingly gave his assent. He first played a psalm, and after they had gravely chimed in with him, the fair-haired amateur, to please the company, gave a few worldly airs. The swarthy Eustace, who was now quite convalescent sprang merrily forward, and cried: "Brother! if thou lovest me, play, to enliven me, the old dance of the Cevennes, to which formerly, in my youth, we tripped so gaily."

The young man modestly commenced his melody, and as he received no interruption, he continued to play with renewed vigour, and it was not long before several castanets were heard with their pleasing clattering, so that Eustace could no longer resist singing aloud, with the most grotesque gestures, and jumping round the circle highly delighted. The little shoemaker Anton, as well as the still younger François could not withstand so enticing


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 40

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 40


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Rh fact, almost momentarily—as is the case in many fishes, amphibians, reptiles and cephalopods. The light that calls forth the colour does not here act directly, or at any rate principally, on the elements of the skin that produce the colour; but a complicated nervous apparatus exists connecting these and the part that is first stimulated by the light, viz. the nerve-endings in the skin or in the eye. If in the latter case the optic lobes of the brain are artificially destroyed, the capacity for changing colour ceases: it therefore depends on a reflex mechanism, the origin of which, again, cannot be attributed to any cause acting directly, but can only be referred to processes of selection.

In these and similar instances, the dimorphism is not consequent on double sets of primary constituents of which only one or the other can attain to development: it depends on the different susceptibilities of the histo-logical elements which in exquisite combination make up the skin.

Many facts indicate that the differentiation of sex can also within certain limits be regarded from a similar point of view. The primary constituents for the characters of both sexes are included in the same egg, and in many instances it appears that a stimulus decides as to which group of them shall undergo development—whether the male or the female. Unfortunately in only very few cases can we as yet determine the stimulus with certainty, but we are at any rate certain that it is not the same in every instance. Yung's well-known experiments indicate, in the case of tadpoles, that the sex is partly determined by the nature and


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Rh an invitation, they danced as partners, and several other young people came forward to exhibit their rustic dexterity.

An old, careworn man now came from the wood and cried: "As this is to be a day of merriment, suffer then my son, the silly Michael, to receive a little honor; besides, consider his small capacity for prophecying, formerly when a shepherd in the fields, he learned several inimitable capers, which well deserve to be seen. The tall lad has such strong legs, that he can spring almost to the height of a man."

Michael, a robust, tall lad of an idiotic appearance, advanced sneakingly and lazily, turning his little blue eyes timidly and inquisitively round on the circle, and as he thought he perceived no disapprobation any where, he suddenly changed his lagging laziness into the most surprising activity, and jumped backwards two or three yards high, turned head-over-heels in the air, and ran over the ground


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 112 either into Hell or Heaven, and to try at once, rather than to put it off any longer, so that he might know how things really stood. Then he threw his sledge-hammer over his shoulder and set off; and when he had gone a good bit of the way, he came to a place where two roads met, and where the path to the kingdom of Heaven parts from the path that leads to Hell, and here he overtook a tailor, who was pelting along with his goose in his hand.

"Good day," said the Smith; "whither are you off to?"

"To the kingdom of Heaven," said the Tailor, "if I can only get into it;—but whither are you going yourself?"

"Oh, our ways don't run together," said the Smith; "for I have made up my mind to try first in Hell, as the Devil and I know something of one another from old times."

So they bade one another "Good-bye," and each went his way; but the Smith was a stout strong man, and got over the ground far faster than the tailor, and so it wasn't long before he stood at the gates of Hell. Then he called the watch, and bade him go and tell the Devil there was some one outside who wished to speak a word with him.

"Go out," said the Devil to the watch, "and ask him who he is?" So that when the watch came and told him that, the Smith answered,—

"Go and greet the Devil in my name, and say it is the Smith who owns the purse he wots offwots of [sic]; and beg him prettily to let me in at once, for I worked at my forge till noon, and I have had a long walk since."

But when the Devil heard who it was he charged the watch to go back and lock up all the nine locks on the gates of Hell.

"And, besides," he said, "you may as well put on a


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Rh in the same manner, and was so souple in all his motions, that it was scarcely possible for the eyes to follow his changes. Eustace, in amazement, clapped his hands over his head, and the young lads in admiration tried to imitate their unattainable model. With the loud laughter, which the comical jestures and attitudes excited, the merry Stephen was compelled to suspend his blowing for a while, and the whole enclosure, when the old and religious men had retired, appeared only a merry, nay, extravagantly joyous company, which the bride, and even the grave Castanet, by their loud applause encouraged to new and still more extraordinary feats of skill.

As the grass was already tolerably beaten down, the dance might be continued with greater safety; and now old Favart stepped upon the level ground, and said: "As we are celebrating a festival to-day, pray permit for once, that the brothers Mark Anthony and Cesar may perform some of their exploits, they think, that they know some


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Anderson, Colonel William Acland Douglas


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 Rh padlock, for if he only once gets in, he'll turn Hell topsy-turvy!"

"Well!" said the Smith to himself, when he saw them busy bolting up the gates, "there's no lodging to be got here, that's plain; so I may as well try my luck in the kingdom of Heaven;" and with that he turned round and went back till he reached the cross-roads, and then he went along the path the tailor had taken. And now, as he was cross at having gone backwards and forwards so far for no good, he strode along with all his might, and reached the gate of Heaven just as St. Peter was opening it a very little, just enough to let the half-starved tailor slip in. The Smith was still six or seven strides off the gate, so he thought to himself, "Now there's no time to be lost;" and grasping his sledge-hammer, he hurled it into the opening of the door just as the tailor slunk in; and if the Smith didn't get in then, when the door was ajar, why I don't know what has become of him.

THE TWO STEP-SISTERS.

on a time there was a couple, and each of them had a daughter by a former marriage. The woman's daughter was dull and lazy, and could never turn her hand to anything, and the man's daughter was brisk and ready; but somehow or other she could never do anything to her stepmother's liking, and both the woman and her daughter would have been glad to be rid of her.


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28 amount of their food; and similar results have been obtained by several observers with regard to certain caterpillars, in which, as in tadpoles, the males appear in greater numbers when nourishment is scarce. Experiments made by Maupas, on the other hand, show that in Hydatina senta, one of the fresh-water rotifers, the determination is effected by the temperature; and this instance is specially interesting, as the sex of the offspring is decided even before their primary constituents are formed in the germ (see Note VII, p. 60).

Siebold and Leuckart have shown that in bees and wasps the eggs which are fertilized develop into females, while those that are not fertilized give rise to males. And though we are still completely in the dark as to how this occurs, its utility at any rate is manifest, for the queen is thus enabled to produce male or female offspring at will or according to necessity. To this extent we can understand why the sex has here been made to depend on an external impulse; and probably no one would in this case conclude that the stimulus is the efficient cause of the male or female character of the embryo: no one regards the warmth necessary for the development of a pigeon's egg as the cause of its giving rise to a pigeon and not to a duck (see Note VIII, p. 60).

In other instances, however, this is less apparent, and the stimulus is readily mistaken for the causa efficiens of the development. Permit me to go somewhat more into detail with regard to one such case which seems to me of peculiar interest; and which, although generally known, has never yet been


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Rh more refined amusements, which would contrast very well with the high leaping and peasant dances."

The two ci-devant noblemen after this short preface, exhibited in the then customary dances of the more refined society, but these did not excite that admiration among the spectators, with which Michael had been encouraged; the wilder exertions therefore resumed their place, and the noblemen found themselves compelled to conform to this taste, if they wished to share in the festivity. Many other instruments struck up, a flute resounded, a hautboy was raised, and between these and Stephen’s pipe a flageolet was heard mingled at intervals with the loud and merry song of the mountaineers; now the air of a dance, now old national songs, and merriment and jesting resounded loudly through the wood, so that the cliffs of the adjacent precipices repeated with joyful echo the tones of wild gaiety.

The merry-making, that to-day, once in


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 114 So it fell one day the two girls were to go out and spin by the side of the well, and the woman's daughter had flax to spin, but the man's daughter got nothing to spin but bristles.

"I don't know how it is," said the woman's daughter, "you're always so quick and sharp, but still I'm not afraid to spin a match with you."

Well, they agreed that she whose thread first snapped should go down the well. So they span away; but just as they were hard at it, the man's daughter's thread broke, and she had to go down the well. But when she got to the bottom, she saw far and wide around her a fair green mead, and she hadn't hurt herself at all.

So she walked on a bit, till she came to a hedge which she had to cross.

"Ah! don't tread hard on me, pray don't, and I'll help you another time, that I will," said the Hedge.

Then the lassie made herself as light as she could, and trode so carefully she scarce touched a twig.

So she went on a bit farther, till she came to a brindled cow, which walked there with a milking-pail on her horns. 'Twas a large pretty cow, and her udder was so full and round.

"Ah! be so good as to milk me, pray," said the Cow; "I'm so full of milk. Drink as much as you please, and throw the rest over my hoofs, and see if I don't help you some day."

So the man's daughter did as the cow begged. As soon as she touched the teats, the milk spouted out into the pail. Then she drank till her thirst was slaked; and the rest she threw over the cow's hoofs, and the milking pail she hung on her horns again.


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Rh motion, would have lasted longer, had it not been suddenly interrupted and broken up by a terrible outcry. The fearful sound proceeded from the summit of a pointed cliff, which rose almost perpendicularly over the green sward to the scene of the joyous tumult. All eyes turned quickly thither, and they beheld a demoniacal figure with upraised, extended arms, face, head, and body coloured and besmeared with blood. Once again the lunatic shouted, and then ran and precipitated himself down the steep rock into the arms of the brethren. It was the wrathful Ravanel. "Curse you! curse! ye apostates!" screamed he, " as if mad; that ye thus forget the Lord! Lamenting, mourning, discoloured with the blood of our brethren, of the enemy and with my own, shed in the holy cause, I returned to summon ye to vengeance, and I find the idolators here in the heathenish dance round the golden calf. Thus Moses descending from Sinai, in his wrath broke the tables of


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Andrew, Professor Henry Martyn


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 Rh she wandered disconsolate by the sea-shore, a dolphin or whale, taking pity upon her, bade her drink a little salt water and swallow a pebble. She did so, and in due time bore a child, Yehl, the hero of the Thlinkeets. Once, in his youth, Yehl shot a supernatural crane, skinned it, and whenever he wished to fly, clothed himself in the bird's skin. Yet he is always known as a raven. Hence there is much the same confusion between Yehl and the bird as between Amun in Egypt and the ram in whose skin he was once pleased to reveal himself to a mortal. In Yehl's youth occurred the deluge, produced by the curse of an unfriendly uncle of his own; but the deluge was nothing to Yehl, who flew up to heaven, and anchored himself to a cloud by his beak till the waters abated. Like most heroes of his kind, Yehl brought light to men. The heavenly bodies in his time were kept in boxes by an old chief. Yehl, by an ingenious stratagem, got possession of the boxes. To fly up to the firmament with the treasure, to open the boxes, and to stick stars, sun, and moon in their proper places in the sky, was to the active Yehl the work of a moment.

Fire he stole, like Prometheus, carrying a brand in his beak till he reached the Thlinkeet shore. There the fire dropped on stones and sticks, from which it is still obtained by striking the flints or rubbing together the bits of wood. Water, like fire, was a monopoly in those days, and one Khanukh kept all of it in his own well. Khanukh was the ancestor of the Wolf family among the Thlinkeets, as Yehl is the first father of the stock called Ravens. The


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 Rh So when she had gone a bit farther, a big wether met her, which had such thick long wool, it hung down and draggled after him on the ground, and on one of his horns hung a great pair of shears.

"Ah! please clip off my wool," said the sheep, "for here I go about with all this wool, and catch up everything I meet, and besides, it's so warm, I'm almost choked. Take as much of the fleece as you please, and twist the rest round my neck, and see if I don't help you some day."

Yes; she was willing enough, and the sheep lay down of himself on her lap, and kept quite still, and she clipped him so neatly, there wasn't a scratch on his skin. Then she took as much of the wool as she chose, and the rest she twisted round the neck of the sheep.

A little farther on, she came to an apple-tree, which was loaded with apples; all its branches were bowed to the ground, and leaning against the stem was a slender pole.

"Ah! do be so good as to pluck my apples off me," said the Tree, "so that my branches may straighten themselves again, for it's bad work to stand so crooked; but when you beat them down, don't strike me too hard. Then eat as many as you please, lay the rest round my root, and see if I don't help you some day or other."

Yes; she plucked all she could reach with her hands, and then she took the pole and knocked down the rest, and afterwards she ate her fill, and the rest she laid neatly round the root.

So she walked on a long, long way, and then she came to a great farm-house, where an old hag of the Trolls lived with her daughter. There she turned in to ask if she could get a place.


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117 the law, as I now in my burning zeal curse the bond that unites me to ye, ye impious ones!"

They tried to pacify the zealot. Stephen had long since replaced his pipe, the dancers stood at an embarrassed distance, and Eustace, who could as quickly turn from prayer to the dance as from this to that, was already sunk in profound, meditation. "My brother," shouted the infuriated man anew, "has been executed to-day at Florac, ten believers have suffered martyrdom with him; I wished to rescue them, but have been beaten back with my brethren with a great deal of bloodshed, and in the mean while we forget our God, our misery, our faith, thus scandalously bring curses on yourselves, voluntarily draw down the malediction of heaven, the scornful laugh of hell voluntarily upon ye,—does no fire then fall down upon the scum? does not the earth open and swallow the iniquitous bands? Howl! howl! ye laden with sin, and roll in the


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118 dust, smite on your stony hearts and be contrite before the Almighty, that peradventure his mercy may awaken and a look of grace from the fiery wrath of his eye may light upon ye."

He threw himself down and writhed on the ground. "Mercy! mercy!" roared he in convulsions,—"No, there is no compassion, mercy is a lie, love is no more!"—"Now is woe come upon us!" sighed Eustace, "our brother is again fallen into his ravings! assist me with your prayers, beloved brethren, that his reason may become strong again.—" He threw himself on his knees by his side and prayed fervently. Duplant and Salomon came forward, that they might help the old man in his supplications; but for the present their good intention had no influence on the lunatic, who was exclaiming as if unconsciously, while he was trying to tear himself away from the arms of his friends who were supporting him. "Whither art thou fled," cried he, "lost, wandered away, thou


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 116 "Oh! " said the old hag; "it's no use your trying. We've had ever so many maids, but none of them was worth her salt."

But she begged so prettily that they would just take her on trial, that at last they let her stay. So the old hag gave her a sieve, and bade her go and fetch water in it. She thought it strange to fetch water in a sieve, but still she went, and when see came to the well, the little birds began to sing—

Yes, she did so, and found she could carry water in a sieve well enough; but when she got home with the water, and the old witch saw the sieve, she cried out,—

So the old witch said, now she might go into the byre to pitch out dung and milk kine; but when she got there she found a pitchfork so long and heavy she couldn't stir it, much less work with it. She didn't know at all what to do, or what to make of it; but the little birds sang again that she should take the broomstick and toss out a little with that, and all the rest of the dung would fly after it. So she did that, and as soon as ever she began with the broomstick, the byre was as clean as if it had been swept and washed.

Now she had to milk the kine, but they were so restless that they kicked and frisked: there was no getting near them to milk them.


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119 great inexpressible being, whom we with stammering tongue wish to call God? It was a fearful, a terrible event, when before the beginning of time, created spirits in their arrogance rebelled against him, and would be God and ruler and crush and annihilate him. Then he withdrew himself from the rebels through the whole heaven of heavens, through all the stary infinities, through the immensity of space, which thought alone can reach, presentiment alone can fathom, and the audacious ones lonely and abandoned, in their malice, bitter as gall in their wrathful fire, in impotent fury, were transfixed and turned to stone and in their dark interior their last, their expiring consciousness is lost, those are the cliffs, the stony rocks, the deep masses of granite, which reach far into the centre of the earth and still rise up in defiance over clouds and vapour: that is the flesh and bone of the arrogants that the earth is now compelled to bind together as with a cramp iron. Then malice, wrath


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Andrew, Rev. John Chapman


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120 and discontent as if extinct; Yea, the flame expired, when it should have nourished itself. Was it lost, departed love recovering itself again, which would collect and burst from its powerless state. Figures move in the sea, in the air, and on the earth, and all persecute, hate, kill one another; bloodthirstiness is delight, lacerations, tearing assunder, martyrdom and devourings of one another are raiment and food. Yea, malice is now for the first time awakened into life, if it contracts and unites itself with the sentiment of love, thou hoary darkness of the primeval rocks, and as a lighted brand penetrates into the bones of the snuffing lions and tigers, and roars in the waterfall, that crumbles the mountains and thirst in the fiery torrent, that greedily eats its way to the stream and siding with his brother, the storm, swallows up woods and fields, and mocking as dead spits forth from itself the former existence as dead, cold as ashes."

Edmond turned away with indignation,


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 52 wolf and raven thus answer to the original creative crow and cockatoo in Australian mythology, and take sides in the primitive dualism. When Yehl went to steal water from Khanukh, the pair had a discussion, exactly like that between Joukahainen and Wainamoinen in the epic of the Finns, as to which of them had been longer in the world. "Before the world stood in its place, I was there," says Yehl; and Wainamoinen says, "When earth was made, I was there; when space was unrolled, I launched the sun on his way." Similar boasts occur in the poems of Empedocles and of Taliesin. Khanukh, however, proved to be both older and more skilled in magic than Yehl. Yet the accomplishment of flying once more stood Yehl in good stead, and he carried off the water, as Odin, in the form of a bird, stole Suttung's mead, by flying off with it in his beak. Yehl then went to his own place.

In the myths of the other races on the North-West Pacific Coast, nothing is more remarkable than the theriomorphic character of the heroes, who are also to a certain extent gods and makers of things.

The Koniagas have their ancestral bird and dog, demiurges, makers of sea, rivers, hills, yet subject to "a great deity called Schljam Schoa," of whom they are the messengers and agents. The Aleuts have their primeval dog-hero, and also a great old man, who made people, like Deucalion, and as in the Macusi myth, by throwing stones over his shoulder.


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Andrews, Henry James


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121 and said: "Woe to thee slanderous tongue that in perverted folly takest upon thee to disfigure the most holy, and inspirest superstitious rage."

"Why are you thus unjust?" said Lacoste smiling, "it affords me inexpressible pleasure to hear for once so cool and impartial a philosopher reason thus conclusively. One does not meet every day with anything so good." The others became outrageous, and were still more fervent in their prayers. Ravanel foamed and continued crying, out: "But how pious is the world, how mildly the brand still searches into the bowels of all! Then man came forth, the image of God, as he calls himself, and now in him hell first broke out in glowing, purple triumph, the loud joyful laugh of inward horror. Whatever subtilty can invent, imagination create, the wildest dream depict, and voluptuousuess can attain, will turn into martyrdom, into cutting off the beings that give themselves out as their brother. All the pulses of the everlasting


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Andrews, Hon. Richard Bullock


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122 Satan beat joyously. Here is God! exclaims the brood, murder, torture them! here is Christ! roar the others, and slay the adversaries. Does an eye from heaven behold? Do the stars know of us? will the lost, the nameless one after eternity find himself once more in his, by himself accursed creation, and will he not then send forth, epidemics, pestilences, famines, fiery flames, and floods of waters, together with earth-quakes and a thousand all-powerful deaths on white horses, in order to crush this his brood, to grind, to powder into nothing, who scandalously imagine that the sparks of his spirit dwell in them. He, He himself inspires them? Yea no future hell; we are it and live in it, prophecied from the ancient prophet's mouth. We dust of dust, we curse of curse!"

Now the prayer of the prophet seemed to operate with greater fervour, for the voice of Ravanel died away, he appeared to sink into slumber totally exhausted, and Lacoste said: "Oh that this pithy


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Andrews, Walter Boyd Tate


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 Rh But the little birds sang outside,—

Yes, she did that; she just milked a tiny drop, 'twas as as she could, for the little birds outside; and then all the cows stood still and let her milk them. They neither kicked nor frisked; they didn't even lift a leg.

So when the old witch saw her coming in with the milk, she cried out,—

This the lassie was at her wit's end to know how to do, for she had never seen or heard of any one who could wash black wool white. Still she said nothing, but took the wool and went down with it to the well. There the little birds sang again, and told her to take the wool and dip it into the great butt that stood there; and she did so, and out it came as white as snow.

"Well, I never!" said the old witch, when she came in with the wool, "it's no good keeping you. You can do everything, and at last you'll be the plague of my life. We'd best part, so take your wages and be off."

Then the old hag drew out three caskets, one red, one green, and one blue, and of these the lassie was to choose one as wages for her service. Now she didn't know at all which to choose, but the little birds sang,—


text: The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Angas, George Fife


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123 should be thus interrupted, he might have added to the preceding several other arguments just as bold and subtle."

Bertrand now returned with the courier prisoner, whom he had met in the ravine. "Behold," said Lacoste to himself, "all corresponds, either these are slyer devils, than they have ever been considered, or there is some other devilry in the game, which is still strange enough."

The courier, a rather elderly man, was raised from his horse, his dispatches had already been taken from him. "Who are you?" asked Cavalier. "Ah your excellency," stammered the embarrassed man, "Now I am, indeed, nothing but an insignificant ambassador, formerly a surgeon in the royal guards."

"Your Name?"

"Dubois, by your leave."

When he announced himself as surgeon, he was commanded to bind up the wounds of Ravanel and several of the other brethren. Cavalier and Roland discovered from the


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124 papers the position of the royal troops, and it was decided to anticipate the attack. As they intended to dispatch a trusty person to reconnoitre the country, Edmond stepped forward and said: "As yet I have not been able to do any thing for you, my dearest brethren, intrust this commission to me." It was granted to him, and he retired to dress according to his own ideas, in a manner befitting his design; Lacoste, who would never separate from him, now pressed forward again as his companion. As soon as they had discussed and ordered every thing, Cavalier proposed, that the courier should be detained until they should have brought their plan to a fortunate conclusion, and Castanet with his young wife repaired to the leafy hut, that had been got ready for them both, while the darkness of night set in.


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 118 So she took the blue casket, as the birds sang.

"Bad luck to you, then," said the old witch; "see if I don't make you pay for this!"

So when the man's daughter was just setting off, the old witch shot a red-hot bar of iron after her, but she sprang behind the door and hid herself, so that it missed her, for her friends, the little birds, had told her beforehand how to behave. Then she walked on and on as fast as ever she could; but when she got to the apple-tree, she heard an awful clatter behind her on the road, and that was the old witch and her daughter coming after her.

So the lassie was so frightened and scared, she didn't know what to do.

"Come hither to me, lassie, do you hear," said the Apple-tree, "I'll help you; get under my branches and hide, for if they catch you they'll tear you to death, and take the casket from you."

Yes; she did so, and she had hardly hidden herself before up came the old witch and her daughter.

"Have you seen any lassie pass this way, you apple-tree?" said the old hag.

"Yes, yes," said the Apple-tree; "one ran by here an hour ago; but now she's got so far ahead you'll never catch her up."

So the old witch turned back and went home again.

Then the lassie walked on a bit, but when she came just about where the sheep was, she heard an awful clatter beginning on the road behind her, and she didn't know what to do, she was so scared and frightened; for she knew well enough it was the old witch, who had thought better of it.


text: The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 2/Chapter VII


text:
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 Rh "Come hither to me, lassie," said the Wether, "and I'll help you. Hide yourself under my fleece, and then they'll not see you; else they'll take away the casket, and tear you to death."

Just then up came the old witch, tearing along.

"Have you seen any lassie pass here, you sheep?" she cried to the wether.

"Oh yes," said the Wether, "I saw one an hour ago, but she ran so fast you'll never catch her."

So the old witch turned round and went home.

But when the lassie had come to where she met the cow, she heard another awful clatter behind her.

"Come hither to me, lassie," said the Cow, "and I'll help you to hide yourself under my udder, else the old hag will come and take away your casket, and tear you to death."

True enough, it wasn't long before she came up.

"Have you seen any lassie pass here, you cow?" said the old hag.

"Yes, I saw one an hour ago," said the Cow, "but she's far away now, for she ran so fast I don't think you'll ever catch her up."

So the old hag turned round, and went back home again.

When the lassie had walked a long, long way farther on, and was not far from the hedge, she heard again that awful clatter on the road behind her, and she got scared and frightened, for she knew well enough it was the old hag and her daughter, who had changed their minds.

"Come hither to me, lassie," said the Hedge, "and I'll help you. Creep under my twigs, so that they can't see


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 120 you; else they'll take the casket from you, and tear you to death."

Yes; she made all the haste she could to get under the twigs of the hedge.

"Have you seen any lassie pass this way, you hedge?" said the old hag to the hedge.

'"No, I haven't seen any lassie," answered the Hedge, and was as smooth-tongued as if he had got melted butter in his mouth; but all the while he spread himself out, and made himself so big and tall, one had to think twice before crossing him. And so the old witch had no help for it but to turn round and go home again.

So when the man's daughter got home, her step-mother and her step-sister were more spiteful against her than ever; for now she was much neater, and so smart, it was a joy to look at her. Still she couldn't get leave to live with them, but they drove her out into a pig-sty. That was to be her house. So she scrubbed it out so neat and clean, and then she opened her casket, just to see what she had got for her wages. But as soon as ever she unlocked it, she saw inside so much gold and silver, and lovely things, which came streaming out till all the walls were hung with them, and at last the pig-sty was far grander than the grandest king's palace. And when the step-mother and her daughter came to see this, they almost jumped out of their skin, and began to ask what kind of a place she had down there?

"Oh," said the lassie, "can't you see, when I have got such good wages. 'Twas such a family and such a mistress to serve, you couldn't find their like anywhere."

Yes; the woman's daughter made up her mind to go out to serve too, that she might get just such another gold casket.


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 Rh So they sat down to spin again, and now the woman's daughter was to spin bristles, and the man's daughter flax, and she whose thread first snapped was to go down the well. It wasn't long, as you may fancy, before the woman's daughter's thread snapped, and so they threw her down the well.

So the same thing happened. She fell to the bottom, but met with no harm, and found herself on a lovely green meadow. When she had walked a bit she came to the hedge.

"Don't tread hard on me, pray, lassie, and I'll help you again," said the Hedge.

"Oh!" said she, "what should I care for a bundle of twigs!" and tramped and stamped over the hedge till it cracked and groaned again.

A little farther on she came to the cow, which walked about ready to burst for want of milking.

"Be so good as to milk me, lassie," said the Cow, " and I'll help you again. Drink as much as you please, but throw the rest over my hoofs."

Yes, she did that; she milked the cow, and drank till she could drink no more; but when she left off, there was none left to throw over the cow's hoofs, and as for the pail, she tossed it down the hill and walked on.

When she had gone a bit farther, she came to the sheep, which walked along with his wool dragging after him.

"Oh, be so good as to clip me, lassie," said the Sheep, "and I'll serve you again. Take as much of the wool as you will, but twist the rest round my neck."

Well, she did that; but she went so carelessly to


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 122 work, that she cut great pieces out of the poor sheep, and as for the wool, she carried it all away with her.

A little while after she came to the apple-tree, which stood there quite crooked with fruit again.

"Be so good as to pluck the apples off me that my limbs may grow straight, for it's weary work to stand all awry," said the Apple-tree. "But please take care not to beat me too hard. Eat as many as you will, but lay the rest neatly round my root, and I'll help you again."

Well, she plucked those nearest to her, and thrashed down those she couldn't reach with the pole; but she didn't care how she did it, and broke off and tore down great boughs, and ate till she was as full as full could be, and then she threw down the rest under the tree.

So when she had gone a good bit farther, she came to the farm where the old witch lived. There she asked for a place, but the old hag said she wouldn't have any more maids, for they were either worth nothing, or were too clever, and cheated her out of her goods. But the woman's daughter was not to be put off, she would have a place, so the old witch said she'd give her a trial, if she was fit for anything.

The first thing she had to do was to fetch water in a sieve. "Well, off she went to the well, and drew water in a sieve, but as fast as she got it in it ran out again. So the little birds sang,

But she didn't care to listen to the birds' song, and


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 Rh pelted them with clay, till they flew off far away. And so she had to go home with the empty sieve, and got well scolded by the old witch.

Then she was to go into the byre to clean it, and milk the kine. But she was too good for such dirty work, she thought. Still, she went out into the byre, but when she got there, she couldn't get on at all with the pitchfork, it was so big. The birds said the same to her as they had said to her step-sister, and told her to take the broomstick, and toss out a little dung, and then all the rest would fly after it; but all she did with the broomstick was to throw it at the birds. When she came to milk, the kine were so unruly, they kicked and pushed, and every time she got a little milk in the pail, over they kicked it. Then the birds sang again,

But she beat and banged the cows about, and threw and pelted at the birds everything she could lay hold of, and made such a to do, 'twas awful to see. So she didn't make much either of her pitching or milking, and when she came in-doors she got blows as well as hard words from the old witch, who sent her off to wash the black wool white; but that, too, she did no better.

Then the old witch thought this really too bad, so she set out the three caskets, one red, one green, and one blue, Mid said she'd no longer any need of her services, for she wasn't worth keeping, but for wages she should have leave to choose whichever casket she pleased.

Then sang the little birds,—


text:
User talk:Boing! said Zebedee

— billinghurst  sDrewth  15:26, 26 September 2010 (UTC)

title: User talk:Boing! said Zebedee


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 41

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 41


text: British Medical Journal/1924/Robert Guthrie Poole Lansdown


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 42

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 42


text:
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Scheelite

SCHEELITE, native calcium tungstate, CaWO$4$, an important ore of tungsten. Occurs as a pale-colored, stony looking mineral. Owing to its unusual heaviness it was given the name tungsten by the Swedes, meaning “heavy stone.” The name was later used to describe the metal when it was discovered in 1781 by K. W. Scheele, while the ore itself was given the name scheelerz or scheelite.


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 43

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 43


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 44

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 44


text: British Medical Journal/1924/John McCaw

title: British Medical Journal/1924/John McCaw


text: British Medical Journal/1924/William Westropp Brereton


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 45

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 45


text: British Medical Journal/1924/John William King Mullen


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 46

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 46


text: British Medical Journal/1924/Campbell William De Morgan


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 47

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 47


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 48

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 48


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 49

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 49


text:
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Scheff, Fritzi

SCHEFF, FRITZI, an Austro-American prima donna, born in Vienna, Austria, in 1882. She received her musical education at Frankfort, Germany, and appeared on the operatic stage for the first time at the Munich Opera House, in 1900. In 1902 she made her first appearance at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, remaining a member of its company under the management of Maurice Grau, from 1900 to 1903. In the latter year she appeared in New York for the first time in a musical comedy, to which work she devoted herself until 1913. From 1913 to 1918 she appeared principally in vaudeville, returning in the latter year to the musical opera stage in “Glorianna.” She was married three times; first to Baron von Bardeleben of the German army, second to John Fox, Jr. (q. v.), and third to George Anderson, an actor.


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 50

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 50


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 51

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 51


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 52

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 52


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 53

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 53


text: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 54

title: Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 54


text:
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Scheffel, Joseph Victor von

SCHEFFEL, JOSEPH VICTOR VON (shef'el), a German author; born in Karlsruhe, Germany, Feb. 16, 1826. In

1854 he published his famous epic poem, “The Trumpeter of Säckingen.” The historical novel “Ekkehard” came out in

1857. “Gaudeamus” (1868) is a collection of lyrics, many of which became favorite student songs. “Mountain Psalms” (1870) is a collection of poems. He died April 9, 1886.

JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL


text:
Page:Devonshire Characters and Strange Events.djvu/633

Rh At the time of the European war, it sometimes happened that a wrestling match was interrupted in an unpleasant manner to some of the parties by the appearance on the scene of the press-gang. There is a favourite song relative to Dick Simmins, published in Mr. Collier's memoir of Hicks of Bodmin. I will give it here:— Come Vaither, Mother and Brothers all, And Zistur too, I pray, I'll tell ee a power o' the strangest thing's  As happen'd to me at say. I'll tell ee a parcel o' the strangest things About the winds and tide, How by compass us steer'd, and o' naught was afear'd,  An' a thousand things beside.

'Tes true I lived i' ole Plymouth town, My trade it were ostling, Dick Simmins and I went to Maker Green To turn at wrasteling. The prize o' buckskin breeches a pair, And ne'er the wuss for wear, Dick and I us tried two vails apiece, The blind man got his share.

Bevoor the play was o'er half way, 'Tes true upon my word, There came a set o' press-gang chaps Each armed wi' stick and sword. Dick Simmins swore a dreadful oath I didn't like to hear, But when King ca'd blind man a fule, That—darn't—I couldn't bear.

I went to t' chap wi' upcock'd hat, "No odds where you may be, But if thou thinks thyself a man  Come wi'out the ring wi' me." So he did stand, his sword in hand, I knocked it from his hand, Then three or vour gurt toads came up  And knocked me down on t' land.

Along came one of Plymouth town, Prentice to Uncle Cross, Wot run away 'bout a bastard child, A terrible lad he wos.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Newton, Gilbert Stuart


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526 Said he, "Don't sarve the young man so,   'Tes an onmanly thing; Pick up the lad, put him on board   That he may sarve the King."

They took me up by neck and heels, They dra'ed me to the boat, The master came 'longside of me  Wi', "Send the lubber afloat." They took me up by neck and heels, They dra'ed me to the say, But Providence a-ordered it  I shuldn't be killed that way.

They picked me out, put me aboard A ship then in the Sound, The waves and winds did blow and roar, I thought I shu'd be drown'd. Then one called " Tack!" another "Ship!" A third cried "Helm a lee!" Lor' bless'y, I dun knaw Tack from Ship, An' Helm to me's Chinee.

The Master ordered I aloft, 'Twas blawin' cruel hard, And there was three or vour gurt chaps A grizzlin' in the yard. When down came mast and down came yard, Then down came I likewise. Lor' bless'y! if the church tower vaall'd,  'Twouldn't make half the noise.

Some vaall'd o'erboard, and some on deck, Some had a thundrin' thump, The Master ordered all hands up  For pumpin' at the pump. Us pumped at the pump, my boys, And no one dared to squeak, The Master ordered all below To stop a thunderin' leak.

When us had stoppéd up that leak A French ship us spied comin', The Master orders all to fight And the drummer to be drummin'. So when the French ship came 'longside, A broadside us let flee, Lor' bless'y! what for smoke and vire Us couldn't smell nor see.


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Rh The Master wi' his cocked-up hat He flourishéd his sword, Wi' "Come and follow me, brave boys,  I warn't we'll try to board." I vollowed he thro' thick and thin, Tho' bless'y I culdn't see'n; The gurt French chap was on to he  Wi' sword both long" and keen.

I rinn'd up to the Master's help, I niver rinn'd no vaster, I zed unto the gurt French chap, "Now don't ee hurt the Master!" Then "Wee, wee, wee, parlez vous Frenchee!" He zed—I reck'n he cuss'd— But "Darny," sez I, "if that's your game,  I reck'n I must kill ee fust."

The Master jumped 'bout the French ship And tore down all her colours, And us jumped 'bout the French ship, too, A whoppin' them foreign fellers. As for the chap as Master threat'n'd  I beat that Parley-vous, From the niddick down his lanky back, Till he squeaked out "Mortbleu!"

Now here's a lesson to volks ashore, And sich as ostlers be, Don't never say Die, and Tain't my trade, But listen, and mark of me. There's nobody knaws wot ee can do, Till tried—now trust me well, Why—us wos ostlers and ort beside, Yet kicked the Frenchies to——Torpoint.

Carew gives us an account of the way in which wrestling was conducted in the West of England in the days of Charles I. "The beholders cast or form themselves into a ring, in the empty space whereof the two champions step forth, stripped into their dublets and hosen, and untrussed, that they may so the better command the use of their lymmes; and first, shaking hands, in token of friendship, they fall presently to the effects of anger; for each striveth how to take hold of


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 124

She didn't care a pin for what the birds sang, but took the red, which caught her eye most. And so she set out on her road home, and she went along quietly and easily enough; there was no one who came after her.

So when she got home, her mother was ready to jump with joy, and the two went at once into the ingle, and put the casket up there, for they made up their minds there could be nothing in it but pure silver and gold, and they thought to have all the walls and roof gilded like the pigsty. But lo! when they opened the casket there came tumbling out nothing but toads, and frogs, and snakes; and worse than that, whenever the woman's daughter opened her mouth, out popped a toad or a snake, and all the vermin one ever thought of, so that at last there was no living in the house with her.

That was all the wages she got for going out to service with the old witch.

BUTTERCUP.

on a time there was an old wife who sat and baked. Now you must know that this old wife had a little son, who was so plump and fat, and so fond of good things, that they called him Buttercup; she had a dog, too, whose name was Goldtooth, and as she was baking, all at once Goldtooth began to bark.


text: Devonshire Characters and Strange Events/Devonshire Wrestlers


text:
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 Rh "Run out, Buttercup, there's a dear!" said the old wile. "and see what Goldtooth is barking at."

So the boy ran out, and came back crying out,

"Oh, Heaven help us! here comes a great big witch, with her head under her arm, and a bag at her back."

"Jump under the kneading-trough and hide yourself," said his mother.

So in came the old hag.

"Good day," said she.

"God bless you!" said Buttercup's mother,

"Isn't your Buttercup at home to-day?" asked the hag.

"No, that he isn't. He's out in the wood with his father shooting ptarmigan."

"Plague take it," said the hag, "for I had such a nice little silver knife I wanted to give him."

"Pip, pip! here I am," said Buttercup under the kneading-trough, and out he came.

"I'm so old and stiff in the back," said the hag, "you must creep into the bag and fetch it out for yourself."

But when Buttercup was well into the bag, the hag threw it over her back and strode off, and when they had gone a good bit of the way, the old hag got tired and asked,

"How far is it off to Snoring?"

"Half a mile," answered Buttercup.

So the hag put down the sack on the road, and went aside by herself into the wood, and lay down to sleep. Meantime Buttercup set to work and cut a hole in the sack with his knife; then he crept out and put a great root of a fir-tree into the sack, and ran home to his mother.


text:
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 Hood Graham Eden Hamond [q. v.], but had no issue.

 HOOD, JOHN (1720–1783?), surveyor and inventor, was born in 1720 at Moyle, co. Carlow. In 1772 was published in Dublin his 'Tables of Difference of Latitude and Departure for Navigators, Land Surveyors, &c.,' in which he recommends that in surveying the bearing of objects should be taken from the meridian of the place. The tables printed in the book are the natural sines of all the angles, in degrees and quarter degrees, to different radii, the latter ranging from 1 to 100, as being best adapted to Gunter's chain. Hood also gives an account of the diurnal variation of the magnetic needle and its correction, and a description of a new surveying instrument. This invention is elsewhere called Hood's compass theodolite, and is described as the basis of the theodolite now used in England and America. He is also said to have anticipated the invention of Hadley's quadrant, but took out no patents. He died about 1783.

A grandson, (1800?–1875), legal writer, born in Moyle, co. Donegal, about 1800, emigrated to Philadelphia, U.S.A., in 1826, and joined the bar there. He published a treatise 'On the Law of Decedents,' Philadelphia, 1847; and wrote, among other works, 'A Brief Account of the Society of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick' (1844) for the Hibernian Society of Philadelphia. He died at Philadelphia in 1875. ( Cyclopædia of American Biography, iii. 248.)

 HOOD, ROBIN, legendary outlaw, has been represented as an historical personage. There can be little doubt, however, that, as in the somewhat similar case of Rory o' the Hills in Ireland, the name originally belonged to a mythical forest-elf, who filled a large space in English, and apparently in Scottish,folk-lore, and that it was afterwards applied by English ballad-writers, chiefly of the northern and midland counties, from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries, to any robber-leader who made his home in forests or moors, excelled in archery, defied the oppressive forest laws, and thus attracted popular sympathy. Adam Bel, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudisdale, legendary outlaws of the forest of Inglewood, Cumberland, are credited in northern ballads with almost all Robin Hood's lawless characteristics and many of his adventures.

Inconclusive attempts have been made to extract from the ballad-history of Robin Hood a sun-myth, with Robin Hood as the central personage (Academy, 1883, xxiv. 250); to treat him as a popular and degraded manifestation of Woden, or to connect him with Hödr (= warrior), a Scandinavian deity. In its origin the name was probably a variant of 'Hodeken,' the title of a sprite or elf in Teutonic folk-lore (, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 472). The prefix Robin, a diminutive of Robert, implied an affectionate familiarity, as in Robin Goodfellow or in Robin of Redesdale, the assumed name of Sir William Conyers,leader of the Yorkshire rebels in 1469. The word Hood may have been applied to the elf because such creatures, according to popular belief, wore hoods; or it may be acorruption of 'o' th' wood,' because they were assumed to live in forests (cf. Gent. Mag. 1793, pt. i.) A 'Robin du Bois' is said to figure in the folk-lore of French peasants. The wide dissemination of the elf s fame is proved by the appearance of 'Robin Hood' in the names of places and plants in all parts of England. Hód's Oak, the name given in an Anglo-Saxon charter to a place in Worcestershire (cf. the modern Hodsock in Nottinghamshire), may embody a reference to Robin Hood. Cairns on Black Down, Somerset, and barrows near Whitby, Yorkshire, and Ludlow, Shropshire, have long been called Robin Hood's pricks or butts; there are Robin Hood's hills in Gloucestershire and Derbyshire; a rock, Robin Hood's Tor, is near Matlock; his wells are numerous in Nottinghamshire, Yorkshire, and Lancashire; a rock in Hope Dale, Derbyshire, is his chair; a cave in Nottinghamshire is his stable; a chasm at Chatsworthis his leap; Blackstone Edge, Lancashire, is his bed; and many old oaks are his trees. In western England red campion is invariably called Robin Hood, and Robin Hood's hatband is in many places a synonym for common club-moss. In Lancashire a searching southeast wind is known as a Robin Hood wind. In explanation of this nomenclature, various stories of no historical value have been fabricated. From the little eminence called after Robin Hood near Ludlow the hero is said to have shot an arrow into the roof of Ludlow Church, a distance of a mile and a half; and an arrow which still decorates a gable of the Fletchers' chancel of the church is said to be the one shot by Robin Hood. A similar legend is told in Holinshed's 'Chronicle' of a hillock in Oxmanstown, near Dublin, which was called Little John's Shot, and is said to owe its name to the fact that


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 126 When the hag got home, and saw what there was in the sack, you may fancy she was in a fine rage.

Next day the old wife sat and baked again, and her dog began to bark, just as he did the day before.

"Run out, Buttercup, my boy," said she, "and see what Goldtooth is barking at."

"Well, I never!" cried Buttercup, as soon as he got out; if there isn't that ugly old beast coming again with her head under her arm, and a great sack at her back."

"Under the kneading-trough with you and hide," said his mother.

"Good day!" said the hag, "is your Buttercup at home to-day?"

"I'm sorry to say he isn't," said his mother; "he's out in the wood with his father shooting ptarmigan."

"What a bore," said the hag; "here I have a beautiful little silver spoon I want to give him."

"Pip, pip! here I am," said Buttercup, and crept out.

"I'm so stiff in the back," said the old witch, "you must creep into the sack and fetch it out for yourself."

So when Buttercup was well into the sack, the hag swung it over her shoulders and set off home as fast as her legs could carry her. But when they had gone a good bit, she grew weary and asked,—

"How far is it off to Snoring?"

"A mile and a half," answered Buttercup.

So the hag set down the sack, and went aside into the wood to sleep a bit, but while she slept, Buttercup made a hole in the sack and got out, and put a great stone into it. Now, when the old witch got home, she made a great fire on the hearth, and put a big pot on it, and got everything ready


text:
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Scheffer, Ary

SCHEFFER, ARY, a French painter, son of Johann Baptist (a German historical painter); born in Dordrecht, Holland, Feb. 12, 1795; studied under Guérin in Paris, and began his artistic career as a painter of genre pictures. Under the influence of the romanticism of the early 19th century he produced numerous pieces illustrative of Goethe's, Byron's, and Dante's works, such as “Margaret at the Well,” “Faust in His Study,” and “Dante and Beatrice in Heaven.” Shortly after 1835 he turned to religious subjects, and painted “Christus Remunerator,” “Christus Consolator,” “The Temptation of Christ,” “St. Augustine and Monica,” etc. His best portraits were of the Duchess de Broglie, Prince Talleyrand, Queen Amélie, Liszt, La Fayette, Béranger, and Lamartine. He died in Argenteuil, near Paris, June 15, 1858.


text:
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 Rh to boil Buttercup; but when she took the sack, and thought she was going to turn out Buttercup into the pot, down plumped the stone and made a hole in the bottom of the pot, so that the water ran out and quenched the fire. Then the old hag was in a dreadful rage, and said, "If he makes himself ever so heavy next time, he shan't take me in again."

The third day everything went just as it had gone twice before; Goldtooth began to bark, and Buttercup's mother said to him,—

"Do run out and see what our dog is barking at."

So out he went, but he soon came back crying out,—

"Heaven save us! Here comes the old hag again with her head under her arm, and a sack at her back."

"Jump under the kneading-trough and hide," said his mother.

"Good day!" said the hag, as she came in at the door; "is your Buttercup at home to-day?"

"You're very kind to ask after him," said his mother; "but he's out in the wood with his father shooting ptarmigan."

"What a bore now, " said the old hag; "here have I got such a beautiful little silver fork for him."

"Pip, pip! here I am," said Buttercup, as he came out from under the kneading-trough.

"I'm so stiff in the back," said the hag, "you must creep into the sack and fetch it out for yourself."

But when Buttercup was well inside the sack, the old nag swung it across her shoulders, and set off as fast as she could. This time she did not turn aside to sleep by the way, but went straight home with Buttercup in the sack, and when she reached her house it was Sunday.


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 128 So the old hag said to her daughter,—

"Now you must take Buttercup and kill him, and boil him nicely till I come back, for I'm off to church to bid my guests to dinner."

So, when all in the house were gone to church, the daughter was to take Buttercup and kill him, but then she didn't know how to set about it at all.

"Stop a bit," said Buttercup; "I'll soon show you how to do it; just lay your head on the chopping-block, and you'll soon see."

So the poor silly thing laid her head down, and Buttercup took an axe and chopped her head off, just as if she had been a chicken. Then he laid her head in the bed, and popped her body into the pot, and boiled it so nicely; and when he had done that, he climbed up on the roof, and dragged up with him the fir-tree root and the stone, and put the one over the door, and the other at the top of the chimney

So when the household came back from church, and saw the head on the bed, they thought it was the daughter who lay there asleep; and then they thought they would just taste the broth.

said the old hag.

said Buttercup down the chimney, but no one heeded him.

So the old hag's husband, who was every bit as bad as she, took the spoon to have a taste.

said he.


text: Devonshire Characters and Strange Events/Robert Lyde


text:
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Scheldt

SCHELDT (skĕlt; Dutch, Schelde — shel'-duh), one of the most important rivers of Belgium and the Netherlands. It rises in the French department of the Aisne; flows circuitously through Belgium; reaches Ghent, where it receives the Lys; at Antwerp attains a breadth of about 1,600 feet, and forms a capacious and secure harbor. About 15 miles below Antwerp, shortly after reaching the Dutch frontier, it divides into the East and West Scheldt, thus forming a double estuary. The whole course is 267 miles, about 210 of which are navigable. Until 1863, when navigation was made free by the Treaty of Brussels, the Dutch monopolized it and levied tolls on foreign vessels. As a result of the World War and the Peace Treaty of Versailles, control of the Scheldt became again a subject of controversy between Holland and Belgium.


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Halaesa

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Halaesa


text:
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 Rh SHORTSHANKS.

on a time there was a poor couple who lived in a tumble-down hut, in which there was nothing but black want, so that they hadn't a morsel to eat, nor a stick to burn. But though they had next to nothing of other things, they had God's blessing in the way of children, and every year they had another babe. Now, when this story begins, they were just looking out for a new child; and, to tell the truth, the husband was rather cross, and he was always going about grumbling and growling, and saying, "For his part, he thought one might have too many of these God's gifts." So when the time came that the babe was to be born, he went off into the wood to fetch fuel, saying, "he didn't care to stop and see the young squaller; he'd be sure to hear him soon enough, screaming for food."

Now, when her husband was well out of the house, his wife gave birth to a beautiful boy, who began to look about the room as soon as ever he came into the world.

"Oh, dear mother!" he said, "give me some of my brother's cast-off clothes, and a few days' food, and I'll go out into the world and try my luck; you have children enough as it is, that I can see."

"God help you, my son!" answered his mother; "that can never be, you are far too young yet."

But the tiny one stuck to what he said, and begged and prayed till his mother was forced to let him have a few old


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 132 rags, and a little food tied up in a bundle, and off he went right merrily and manfully into the wide world. But he was scarce out of the house before his mother had another boy, and he too looked about him and said—

"Oh, dear mother! give me some of my brother's old clothes, and a few days' food, and I'll go out into the world to find my twin-brother; you have children enough already on your hands, that I can see."

"God help you, my poor little fellow!" said his mother; "you are far too little, this will never do."

But it was no good; the tiny one begged and prayed so hard, till he got some old tattered rags and a bundle of food; and so he wandered out into the world like a man, to find his twin-brother. Now, when the younger had walked a while, he saw his brother a good bit on before him, so he called out to him to stop.

"Halloa! can't you stop? why, you lay legs to the ground as if you were running a race. But you might just as well have stayed to see your youngest brother before set you off into the world in such a hurry."

So the elder stopped and looked round; and when the younger had come up to him and told him the whole story, and how he was his brother, he went on to say,—

"But let's sit down here and see what our mother has given us for food." So they sat down together, and were soon great friends.

Now when they had gone a bit farther on their way they came to a brook which ran through a green meadow, and the youngest said now the time was come to give one another names; "Since we set off in such a hurry that we hadn't time to do it at home, we may as well do it here."


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 Rh "Well," said the elder, "and what shall your name be?"

"Oh!" said the younger, "my name shall be Shortshanks; and yours, what shall it be?"

"I will be called King Sturdy," answered the eldest.

So they christened each other in the brook, and went on; but when they had walked a while they came to a cross road, and agreed they should part there, and each take his own road. So they parted, but they hadn't gone half a mile before their roads met again. So they parted the second time, and took each a road; but in a little while the same thing happened, and they met again, they scarce knew how; and the same thing happened a third time also. Then they agreed that they should each choose a quarter of the heavens, and one was to go east and the other west; but before they parted, the elder said,—

"If you ever fall into misfortune or need, call three times on me, and I will come and help you; but mind you don't call on me till you are at the last pinch."

"Well," said Shortshanks, "if that's to be the rule, I don't think we shall meet again very soon."

After that they bade each other good-bye, and Shortshanks went east and King Sturdy west.

Now, you must know when Shortshanks had gone a good bit alone, he met an old, old, crook-backed hag, who had only one eye, and Shortshanks snapped it up.

"Oh! oh!" screamed the hag, "what has become of my eye?"

"What will you give me," asked Shortshanks, "if you get your eye back?"

"I'll give you a sword, and such a sword! It will put


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 134 a whole army to flight, be it ever so great," answered the old woman.

"Out with it, then!" said Shortshanks.

So the old hag gave him the sword, and got her eye back again. After that Shortshanks wandered on a while, and another old, old, crook-backed hag met him who had only one eye, which Shortshanks stole before she was aware of him.

"Oh! oh I whatever has become of my eye?" screamed the hag.

"What will you give me to get your eye back?" asked Shortshanks.

"I'll give you a ship," said the woman, "which can sail over fresh water and salt water, and over high hills and deep dales."

"Well, out with it!" said Shortshanks.

So the old woman gave him a little tiny ship, no bigger than he could put in his pocket, and she got her eye back again, and they each went their way. But when he had wandered on a long, long way, he met a third time an old, old, crook-backed hag, with only one eye. This eye too, Shortshanks stole; and when the hag screamed and made a great to-do, bawling out what had become of her eye, Shortshanks said,—

"What will you give me to get back your eye?"

Then she answered,—

"I'll give you the art how to brew a hundred lasts of malt at one strike."

Well, for teaching that art the old hag got back her eye, and they each went their way.

But when Shortshanks had walked a little way, he thought it might be worth while to try his ship; so he


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 Rh took it out of his pocket, and put first one foot into it, and then the other; and as soon as ever he set one foot into it it began to grow bigger and bigger, and by the time he set the other foot into it, it was as big as other ships that sail on the sea. Then Shortshanks said,—

"Off and away, over fresh water and salt water, over high hills and deep dales, and don't stop till you come to the king's palace."

And lo! away went the ship as swiftly as a bird through the air, till it came down a little below the king's palace, and there it stopped. From the palace windows people had stood and seen Shortshanks come sailing along, and they were all so amazed that they ran down to see who it could be that came sailing in a ship through the air. But while they were running down, Shortshanks had stepped out of his ship and put it into his pocket again; for as soon as he stepped out of it, it became as small as it was when he got it from the old woman. So those who had run down from the palace saw no one but a ragged little boy standing down there by the strand. Then the king asked whence he came, but the boy said he didn't know, nor could he tell them how he had got there. There he was, and that was all they could get out of him; but he begged and prayed so prettily to get a place in the king's palace, saying, if there was nothing else for him to do he could carry in wood and water for the kitchen-maid, that their hearts were touched, and he got leave to stay there.

Now when Shortshanks came up to the palace he saw how it was all hung with black, both outside and in, wall and roof; so he asked the kitchen-maid what all that mourning meant.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vereker, Charles


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verelst, Harry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verelst, Simon


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530 There was no high standard of clerical life prevalent, but what standard there was was not lived up to. These parsonic sportsmen were as profoundly ignorant of the doctrines of the Faith they were commissioned to teach, as any child in a low form in a National School. As was sung of one—typical—

There is but one patch of false colour in this song, that which represents the hunting parson as strong in the pulpit.

Society—hunting society especially—in North Devon was coarse to an exceptional degree. One who knew it intimately wrote to me: "It was a strange ungodly company, parsons included, and that not so very long ago. North Devon society in Jack Russell's day was peculiar—so peculiar that no one now would believe readily that half a century ago such life could be—but I was in the thick of it. It was not creditable to any one, but it was so general that the rascality of it was mitigated by consent."

The hunting parson was, as said, not strong in the pulpit except in voice. But Jack Russell, of Swymbridge, was an exception.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vergil, Polydore


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vermigli, Pietro Martire


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vermuyden, Cornelius


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verneuil, John


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Edmund (1590-1642)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Edmund (1616-1649)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Francis


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Harry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Ralph (1613-1696)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Ralph (1712?-1791)


text:
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532 Finally Mr. Sleeman removed to Whitchurch, a family living, to which he succeeded on the death of his father, and Bishop Phillpotts had to swallow the bitter pill of instituting him to it. I remember Mr. Sleeman as rector, hunting, shooting, dancing at every ball, and differing from a layman by his white tie, a capital judge of horses, and possessor of an excellent cellar.

When Parson Jack Russell was over eighty he started keeping a pack of harriers. The then Bishop of Exeter sent for him.

"Mr. Russell, I hear you have got a pack of hounds. Is it so?"

"It is. I won't deny it, my lord."

"Well, Mr. Russell, it seems to me rather unsuitable for a clergyman to keep a pack. I do not ask you to give up hunting, for I know it would not be possible for you to exist without that. But will you, to oblige me, give up the pack?"

"Do y' ask it as a personal favour, my lord?"

"Yes, Mr. Russell, as a personal favour."

"Very well, then, my lord, I will."

"Thank you, thank you." The Bishop, moved by his readiness, held out his hand. "Give me your hand, Mr. Russell; you are—you really are—a good fellow."

Jack Russell gave his great fist to the Bishop, who pressed it warmly. As they thus stood hand in hand, Jack said—

"I won't deceive you—not for the world, my lord. I'll give up the pack sure enough—but Mrs. Russell will keep it instead of me."

The Bishop dropped his hand.

On one occasion Bishop Phillpotts met Froude, vicar of Knowstone. "I hear, Mr. Froude, that you keep a pack of harriers."


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Verney, Richard


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Edward (1684-1757)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Edward (1723-1794)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Francis


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, George (1578?-1639)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, George (1637-1720)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, George John Warren


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, James


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 136 "Don't you know?" said the kitchen-maid; "I'll soon tell you: the king's daughter was promised away a long time ago to three Ogres, and next Thursday evening one of them is coming to fetch her. Ritter Red, it is true, has given out that he is man enough to set her free, but God knows if he can do it; and now you know why we are all in grief and sorrow."

So when Thursday evening came, Ritter Red led the Princess down to the strand, for there it was she was to meet the Ogre, and he was to stay by her there and watch; but he wasn't likely to do the Ogre much harm, I reckon, for as soon as ever the Princess had sat down on the strand Ritter Red climbed up into a great tree that stood there, and hid himself as well as he could among the boughs. The Princess begged and prayed him not to leave her, but Ritter Red turned a deaf ear to her, and all he said was,—

Tis better for one to lose life than for two."

That was what Ritter Red said.

Meantime Shortshanks went to the kitchen-maid, and asked her so prettily if he mightn't go down to the strand for a bit.

"And what should take you down to the strand?" asked the kitchen-maid. "You know you've no business there."

"Oh, dear friend," said Shortshanks, "do let me go! I should so like to run down there and play a while with the other children; that I should."

"Well, well!" said the kitchen-maid, "off with you; but don't let me catch you staying there a bit over the time when the brose for supper must be set on the fire, and the


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Joseph


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Haemophilia


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Richard de


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Richard (1726-1800)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Robert


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Rh "Then you've heard wrong, my lord. It is the pack that keeps me."

"I do not understand."

"They stock my larder with hares. You don't suppose I should have hares on my table unless they were caught for me? There's no butcher for miles and miles, and I can't get a joint but once in a fortnight. Forced to eat hares; and they must be caught to be eaten."

The Bishop then said to Froude: "I hear, sir, but I can hardly credit it, that you invite men to your house and keep them drinking and then fighting in your parlour."

"My lord, you are misinformed. Don't believe a word of it. When they begin to fight and takes off their coats, I turns 'em out into the churchyard."

John Boyce, rector of Sherwell, wishing to have a day's hunting with the staghounds on the Porlock side of Exmoor, told his clerk to give notice in the morning that there would be no service in the afternoon in the church, as he was going off to hunt with Sir Thomas Acland over the moor on the following day. The mandate was obeyed to the letter, the clerk making the announcement in the following terms:—

"This is to give notiss—there be no sarvice to this church this arternoon; cos maester be a-going over the moor a stag-hunting wi' Sir Thomas."

At Stockleigh Pomeroy parish, the rector, Roupe Ilbert, desired his clerk to inform the congregation that there would be one service only on the Sunday in that church for a month, as he was going to take duty at Stockleigh English alternately with his own. The clerk did so in these words: "This is vor to give notiss—there'll be no sarvice to thes church but wance a wick, as maester's a-going to sarve t'other Stockleigh and this church to all etarnity."


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 Rh roast put on the spit; and let me see, when you come back mind you bring a good armful of wood with you."

Yes, Shortshanks would mind all that; so off he ran down to the strand.

But just as he reached the spot where the Princess sat, what should come but the Ogre tearing along in his ship, so that the wind roared and howled after him. He was so tall and stout it was awful to look on him, and he had five heads of his own.

"Fire and flame!" screamed the Ogre.

"Fire and flame yourself!" said Shortshanks.

"Can you fight?" roared the Ogre.

"If I can't, I can learn," said Shortshanks.

So the Ogre struck at him with a great thick iron club which he had in his fist, and the earth and stones flew up five yards into the air after the stroke.

"My!" said Shortshanks, "that was something like a blow, but now you shall see a stroke of mine."

Then he grasped the sword he had got from the old crook-backed hag, and cut at the Ogre; and away went all his five heads flying over the sand. So when the Princess saw she was saved, she was so glad that she scarce knew what to do, and she jumped and danced for joy. "Come, lie down, and sleep a little in my lap," she said to Shortshanks, and as he slept she threw over him a tinsel robe.

Now you must know it wasn't long before Ritter Red crept down from the tree, as soon as he saw there was nothing to fear in the way, and he went up to the Princess and threatened her, until she promised to say it was he who had saved her life; for if she wouldn't say so, he said he would kill her on the spot. After that he cut out the Ogre's


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Thomas (1654-1721)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Vernon, Thomas (1824?-1872)


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 138 lungs and tongue, and wrapped them up in his handkerchief, and so led the Princess back to the palace, and whatever honours he had not before he got then, for the king did not know how to find honour enough for him; and made him sit every day on his right hand at dinner.

As for Shortshanks, he went first of all on board the Ogre's ship, and took a whole heap of gold and silver rings, as large as hoops, and trotted off with them as hard as he could to the palace. When the kitchen-maid set her eyes on all that gold and silver, she was quite scared, and asked him,—

"But dear, good Shortshanks, wherever did you get all this from?" for she was rather afraid he hadn't come rightly by it.

"Oh!" answered Shortshanks, "I went home for a bit, and there I found these hoops, which had fallen off some old pails of ours, so I laid hands on them for you if you must know."

Well, when the kitchen-maid heard they were for her, she said nothing more about the matter, but thanked Shortshanks, and they were good friends again.

The next Thursday evening it was the same story over again; all were in grief and trouble, but Ritter Red said, as he had saved the Princess from one Ogre it was hard if he couldn't save her from another; and down he led her to the strand as brave as a lion. But he didn't do this Ogre much harm either, for when the time came that they looked for the Ogre he said, as he had said before,—

"'Tis better one should lose life than two," and crept up into his tree again. But Shortshanks begged the kitchen-maid to let him go down to the strand for a little.


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534 On one occasion, as the congregation were assembling for divine service in a church where Mr. Russell was ministering, a man stood on the churchyard hedge, with the band of his hat stuck round with silver spoons, bawling out, "Plaize to tak' notiss—Thaise zix zilver spunes to be wrastled vor next Thursday, at Poughill, and all ginlemen wrastlers will receive vair play." The man, with the spoons in his hat, then entered the church, went up to the singing gallery, and hung it on a peg, from which it was perfectly visible to the parson and the greater part of the congregation during service.

It was customary in those portions of Devon which were not regularly hunted, for the church bell to be rung when a fox had been discovered, so as to assemble all hands to kill it.

On one occasion, at Welcombe, snow lying deep on the ground, the clergyman was reading the second lesson, when a man opened the church door and shouted in, "I've a got un!" and immediately withdrew. At once up rose all the men in the congregation and followed him, and within a couple of hours brought into the village inn a fine old fox, dug out and murdered in cold blood.

Of the whole tribe of fox-hunting, hare-hunting, otter-hunting, dancing parsons, Jack Russell was the best in every way.

I was travelling outside the coach one day to Exeter, and two farmers were by me on the seat behind the driver. Their talk was on this occasion, not of bullocks, but of parsons. One of them came from Swymbridge, the other from a certain parish that I shall not name, and whose rector we will call Rattenbury. The latter told a story of Rattenbury that cannot be repeated, indicating incredible grossness in an Englishman,


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 140 and led the Princess back to the palace. Then you may fancy what mirth and joy there was, and the king was at his wits' end to know how to show Ritter Red honour and favour enough.

This time, too, Shortshanks took a whole armful of gold and silver rings from the Ogre's ship, and when he came back to the palace the kitchen-maid clapped her hands in wonder, asking wherever he got all that gold and silver from. But Shortshanks answered that he had been home a while, and that the hoops had fallen off some old pails, so he had laid his hands on them for his friend the kitchen-maid.

So when the third Thursday evening came, everything happened as it had happened twice before; the whole palace was hung with black, and all went about mourning and weeping. But Ritter Red said he couldn't see what need they had to be so afraid; he had freed the Princess from two Ogres, and he could very well free her from a third; so he led her down to the strand, but when the time drew near for the Ogre to come up, he crept into his tree again and hid himself. The Princess begged and prayed, but it was no good, for Ritter Red said again,—

"'Tis better that one should lose life than two."

That evening, too, Shortshanks begged for leave to go down to the strand.

"Oh!" said the kitchen-maid, "what should take you down there?"

But he begged and prayed so, that at last he got leave to go, only he had to promise to be back in the kitchen again when the roast was to be turned. So off he went, but he had scarce reached the strand when the Ogre came


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 Rh "Oh!" asked the kitchen-maid, "and what business have you down there?"

"Dear friend," said Shortshanks, "do pray let me go! I long so to run down and play a while with the other children."

Well, the kitchen-maid gave him leave to go, but he must promise to be back by the time the roast was turned, and he was to mind and bring a big bundle of wood with him. So Shortshanks had scarce got down to the strand when the Ogre came tearing along in his ship, so that the wind howled and roared around him; he was twice as big as the other Ogre, and he had ten heads on his shoulders.

"Fire and flame!" screamed the Ogre.

"Fire and flame yourself!" answered Shortshanks.

"Can you fight?" roared the Ogre.

"If I can't, I can learn," said Shortshanks.

Then the Ogre struck at him with his iron club; it was even bigger than that which the first Ogre had, and the earth and stones flew up ten yards into the air.

"My!" said Shortshanks, "that was something like a blow; now you shall see a stroke of mine." Then he grasped his sword, and cut off all the Ogre's ten heads at one blow, and sent them dancing away over the sand.

Then the Princess said again to him, "Lie down and sleep a little while on my lap;" and while Shortshanks lay there, she threw over him a silver robe. But as soon as Ritter Red marked that there was no more danger in the way he crept down from the tree, and threatened the Princess, till she was forced to give her word to say it was he who had set her free; after that he cut the lungs and tongue out of the Ogre, and wrapped them in his


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Rh in a gentleman. "Aye there!" retorted the sheep of Parson Jack's flock. "Our man b'aint like that at all. He be main fond o' dogs, I allows; he likes his bottle o' port, I grant you that; but he's a proper gentleman and a Christian; and I reckon your passon be neither one nor t'other."

John Russell was born in December, 1796. His father was rector of Iddesleigh, in North Devon, and at the same time of Southill, near Callington, in Cornwall, one of the fattest livings in that county, the rectory and church distant three miles from the town of Callington, that is in the parish. A curate on a small stipend was sent to serve Iddesleigh, Mr. Russell settling into the spacious rectory of Southill, large as a manor-house, and with extensive grounds and gardens.

Young John was sent to school at Blundell's, at Tiverton, under Dr. Richards, a good teacher, but a very severe disciplinarian. At Blundell's, Russell and another boy, named Bovey, kept a scratch pack of hounds. Having received a hint that this had reached the ears of Dr. Richards, he collected his share of the pack and sent them off to his father. Next day he was summoned to the master's desk.

"Russell," said the Doctor, "I hear that you have some hounds. Is it true?"

"No, sir," answered Russell; "I have not a dog in the neighbourhood."

"You never told me a lie, so I believe you. Bovey, come here. You have some hounds, I understand?"

"Well, sir, a few—but they are little ones."

"Oh! you have, have you? Then I shall expel you the school."

And expelled he was, Russell coming off scatheless.

John Russell was ordained deacon in 1819, on nomination to the curacy of Georgenympton, near


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536 Southmolton, and there he kept otter hounds. In 1830 he married Penelope, daughter of Admiral Bury, a lady with a good deal of money, all of which, or nearly all, Parson Jack managed in process of years to get rid of—£50,000, which went, not in giving her pleasure, but on his own sporting amusements.

Russell thought that in horse-dealing, as in love and war, all things are lawful. It so happened that Parson Froude wanted a horse, and he asked his dear friend, Russell, if he knew where he could find one that was suitable. "Would my brown horse do?" asked Russell. "I want to sell him, because the hunting season is over, and I have too many horses. Come into town on Saturday and dine with me in the middle of the day, and see the horse. If you like him, you can have him, and if you do not, there is no harm done."

On Saturday, into Southmolton came Froude. Russell lived there, as he was curate of Georgenympton, near by. Froude stabled his horse at the lower end of the town. He was suspicious even of a friend, so, instead of going to Russell's lodging, he went to his stable and found the door locked. This circumstance made him more suspicious than ever, and, looking round, he saw a man on a ladder, from which he was thatching a cottage. He called to him for assistance, shifted the ladder to the stable, ascended, and went by the "tallet" door into the loft. He got down the steps inside, opened the window, and carefully inspected the horse, which he found to be suffering in both eyes from incipient cataract. He climbed back, got down the ladder, and shutting the window, went into a shop to have his coat brushed before he rang his friend's door-bell. The door was opened by Russell himself, who saluted him with:


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Rh "You are early, Froude. Come across to the bank with me for a moment, if you do not mind."

In the street was standing a Combmartin cart laden with early vegetables, and between the shafts was an old pony, stone blind, with glassy eyeballs. Froude paused, lifted the pony's head, turned its face to the light, looked at the white eyeballs, and remarked: "How blessed plenty blind horses are in this town just now, Jack."

Not another word was said. The dinner was eaten, the bottle of port wine was consumed, and Froude rode home without having been asked to see the brown horse. Russell knew that the game was up, and that his little plan for making his friend view the horse after he had dined, and not before, had lamentably failed.

But that was the way with them. Froude would have dealt with his best friend in the same manner over horses.

One who knew him intimately writes: "Russell was an iron man. I have known other specimens, but Russell was the hardest of all in constitution. He was kindly enough and liberal in his dealings with his people; but if it came to selling him, or even to lending him, a horse, or buying what he was pleased to call his famous terriers, the case was different it was after the morality of North Devon. He was a wonderful courtier where ladies were concerned, and with them he was very popular. He was no fool, but very capable, only a man who was too much given to outdoor sports to read, or even to keep himself currently informed.

"His voice was not unmusical, but tremendous.


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538 He was far too shrewd to be ever foolish in church. I was in the county somewhere about 1848-9, and there was a Bishop's Visitation at Southmolton, and Russell was asked to preach. Then the clergy, churchwardens, etc., dined together at the ’George,' and after dinner the Bishop rose, and, with his silvery voice, thanked the preacher of the day, and, in the name of all those present, begged him to publish his admirable discourse for their benefit.

"Bishop Phillpotts, I may say, was diabolically astute and well-informed, and dangerous to match.

"Then up rose Russell, with head thrown back, and said: ’My lord, I rejoice that so good a judge should pronounce my performance profitable. But I cannot oblige your lordship and publish, because that discourse is already in print. My lord, when I was requested to preach to-day I naturally turned to see what others before me had thought it advisable to say on similar occasions; and, chancing on a discourse by an Irish clergyman of long ago, I shared your lordship's sentiments of admiration, and feeling myself incapable of doing better than the author, I was determined, my lord, that if, to-day, I could give no better fare, at least my audience should have no worse. My lord, the sermon is not original.'

"There was not a man in the room but knew that the Bishop had endeavoured to trap their man. And that he had extricated himself gave vast delight, manifested by the way in which the glasses leaped from the tables, as the churchwardens banged the boards."

Russell was not a heavy drinker. No one ever saw him drunk. Usually he only brought out a bottle of port after he had killed his fox. On all other occasions gin and water was produced before going to bed. But if not intemperate in that way, he could and did use


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Rh strong language in the hunting-field—as strong as any of the yeomen and farmers.

He was ubiquitous. Whenever there was a wrestling match, distance was nothing to him, or a horse fair, or a stag-hunt. Mentioning stag-hunts recalls the story of a parson on the fringe of Exmoor, who had been out with the hounds, and had the hunters in his church on Sunday morning. The Psalm given out was "As pants the hart for cooling streams," and his text was "Lo, we heard of it at Ephratah, and we found it in the wood."

From Southmolton John Russell moved to Iddesleigh, appointed there by his father, who surrendered to him the income of the living.

He was now somewhat out of the ring of his former associates, and had to make, and contrived to make, fresh friends in the neighbourhood of Hatherleigh. But it was not one where there were many squires, and the clergy were too poor to keep packs. Moreover, that tract of country was rarely hunted at all, and Russell determined to make it his own special happy hunting ground. There were, however, difficulties in the way. The people did not sympathize. The farmers were indisposed to favour his scheme, and of resident sporting squires there were none at all.

It had long been the practice of the natives to kill a fox whenever and however they could catch him; and Russell had not been long at Iddesleigh when one day his ear caught the sound of a church bell, rung in a jangling fashion and with more than usual clamour. It was the signal that a fox had been tracked to ground or balled into a brake; and the bell summoned every man who possessed a pickaxe, a gun, or a terrier to hasten to the spot and lend a hand in destroying the noxious animal. This practice he had to interrupt and put an end to.


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540 A letter of Russell's thus describes his first adventure with a party bent on murdering a fox in his new country:—

"During the winter of the first year I was at Iddesleigh, the snow at the time lying deep on the ground, a native—Bartholomew, alias Bat, Anstey—came to me and said, 'Hatherleigh bell is a-ringing, sir.' 'Ringing for what?' I asked, with a strong misgiving as to the cause of it. 'Well, sir, they've a-tracked a fox in somewhere; and they've a-sot the bell a-going to collect the people to shoot un.' 'Come, Bat, speak out like a man,' I replied, 'and tell me where it is.' 'In Middlecot Earths, sir; just over the Ockment.'

"I was soon on the spot with about ten couple of my little hounds, and found standing around the earths about a hundred fellows, headed, I am almost ashamed to say, by two gentlemen—Mr. Veale, of Passaford, and Mr. Morris, of Fishley. I remonstrated with these gentlemen, and told them plainly that if they would leave the earths, and preserve foxes for me, I would show them more sport with my little pack in one day than they would see in a whole year by destroying the gallant animal in so un-English a way.

"Impressed, apparently, by what I had said, both gentlemen instantly bade me good morning, turned on their heels, and left the place; while a few shillings distributed among the rest, by way of compensation for the disappointment I had caused them, induced them to disperse and leave me almost the sole occupant of the situation.

"Then, after waiting half an hour near the spot, I turned my head towards home; but before I arrived there I met a man open-mouthed, bawling out, 'They've a-tracked a fox into Brimblecombe, for I hear the Dowland bell a-going.'