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Dimpfel v. Ohio/Opinion of the Court

This suit was brought to set aside a contract by which the Ohio & Mississippi Railway Company became the owner of a portion of its road known as the Springfield Division, and to obtain a decree from the court declaring that the bonds issued by the company, and secured by a mortgage upon that division, are null and void. It was commenced by Dimpfel, an individual stockholder in the company, who stated in his bill that it was filed on behalf of himself and such other stockholders as might join him in the suit. Callaghan, another stockholder, is the only one who joined him. The two claim to be the owners of 1,500 shares of the stock of the company. The whole number of shares is 240,000. The owners of the balance of this large number make no complaint of the transactions which the complainants seek to annul. And it does not appear that the complainants owned their shares when these transactions took place. For aught we can see to the contrary, they may have purchased the shares long afterwards, expressly to annoy and vex the company, in the hope that they might thereby extort, from its fears, a larger benefit than the other stockholders have received or may reasonably expect from the purchase, or compel the company to buy their shares at prices above the market value. Unfortunately, litigation against large companies is often instituted by individual stockholders from no higher motive. But assuming that the complainants were the owners of the shares held by them when the transactions of which they complain took place, it does not appear that they made any attempt to prevent the purchase of the additional road, and the issue by the company of its bonds secured by a mortgage on that road. We are not informed of any appeal by them to the directors to stay their hands in this respect, nor of any representation to them of a want of power to make the purchase and issue the bonds, nor of any probable injury which would arise therefrom. The purchase was made in January, 1875, and this suit was not commenced until September 12, 1878. In the mean time, the new road purchased was operated as an integral part of the line of the Ohio & Mississippi Railway Company, without objection from any stockholder. During these three years and eight months the earnings of the new road went into the treasury of the company, and the bonds issued upon the mortgage of that road, executed by the company in payment of its purchase, passed into the hands of parties who bought them on the faith of contracts which had been carried out without complaint from any one. Objections now come with bad grace from parties who knew at the time all that was being done by the company, and gave no sign of dissatisfaction. The purchase and the issue of the bonds were public acts known to them, and presumably to all the stockholders.

A stockholder must make a better showing of wrongs which he has suffered, and also of efforts to obtain relief against them, before a court of equity will interfere and set aside the transactions of a railway company or of its directors. It is not enough that there may be a doubt as to the authority of the directors or as to the wisdom of their proceedings. Grievances, real and substantial, must exist, and before an individual stockholder can be heard he must show, in the language of this court, that 'he has exhausted all the means within his reach to obtain, within the corporation itself, the redress of his grievances or action in conformity to his wishes.' Hawes v. Oakland, 104 U.S. 450. In that case the court added that the efforts to induce such action as he desired on the part of the directors or of the stockholders, when that was necessary, and the cause of his failure, should be stated with particularity in his bill of complaint, accompanied with an allegation that he was a stockholder at the time of the transactions of which he complains, or that his shares have devolved on im since by operation of law. According to the rule thus declared, and its value and importance are constantly manifested, the complainants have no standing in court, and the demurrer was properly sustained for want of equity in the bill.

This view renders it unnecessary to consider whether, as held by the court below, the railway company had the right to acquire the Springfield Division and to execute the mortgage and issue the bonds mentioned by virtue of the legislation of Illinois. The complainants have not shown any ground which would justify the court, on this application, to inquire into the validity of the transaction.

Decree affirmed.

title: Dimpfel v. Ohio/Opinion of the Court


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Outlines of the Science of Energetics

 * May 2, 1855 (the Concluding Meeting of the Session was held this evening) William Gourlie, Esq., Vice-President, in the Chair.
 * Mr. J. Namer read a paper " On the Chemistry of Trap Dykes in Arran."
 * Mr. W. J. Macquorn Rankine read a paper " On the Science of Energetics."

What Constitutes A Physical Theory.
An essential distinction exists between two stages in the process of advancing our knowledge of the laws of physical phenomena; the first stage consists in observing the relations of phenomena, whether of such as occur in the ordinary course of nature, or of such as are artificially produced in experimental investigations, and in expressing the relations so observed by propositions called formal laws. The second stage consists in reducing the formal laws of an entire class of phenomena to the form of a science; that is to say, in discovering the most simple system of principles, from which all the formal laws of the class of phenomena can be deduced as consequences.

Such a system of principles, with its consequences methodically deduced, constitutes the of a class of phenomena.

A physical theory, like an abstract science, consists of definitions and axioms as first principles, and of propositions, their consequences; but with these differences:—first, That in an abstract science, a definition assigns a name to a class of notions derived originally from observation, but not necessarily corresponding to any existing objects of real phenomena, and an axiom states a mutual relation amongst such notions, or the names denoting them; while in a physical science, a definition states properties common to a class of existing objects, or real phenomena, and a physical axiom states a general law as to the relations of phenomena; and, secondly,—That in an abstract science, the propositions first discovered are the most simple; whilst in a physical theory, the propositions first discovered are in general numerous and complex, being formal laws, the immediate results of observation and experiment, from which the definitions and axioms are subsequently arrived at by a process of reasoning differing from that whereby one proposition is deduced from another in an abstract science, partly in being more complex and difficult, and partly in being to a certain extent tentative, that is to say, involving the trial of conjectural principles, and their acceptance or rejection according as their consequences are found to agree or disagree with the formal laws deduced immediately from observation and experiment.

The Abstractive Method of Forming a Physical Theory, Distinguished from the Hypothetical Method.
Two methods of framing a physical theory may be distinguished, characterized chiefly by the manner in which classes of phenomena are defined. They may be termed respectively the and the  methods.

According to the method, a class of objects or phenomena is defined by describing, or otherwise making to be understood, and assigning a name or symbol to, that assemblage of properties which is common to all the objects or phenomena composing the class, as perceived by the senses, without introducing anything hypothetical.

According to the method, a class of objects or phenomena is defined according to a conjectural conception of their nature, as being constituted in a manner not apparent to the senses, by a modification of some other class of objects or phenomena whose laws are already known. Should the consequences of such a hypothetical definition be found to be in accordance with the results of observation and experiment, it serves as the means of deducing the laws of one class of objects or phenomena from those of another.

The conjectural conceptions involved in the hypothetical method may be distinguished into two classes, according as they are adopted as a probable representation of a state of things which may really exist, though imperceptible to the senses, or merely as a convenient means of expressing the laws of phenomena; two kinds of hypotheses, of which the former may be called objective, and the latter subjective. As examples of objective hypotheses may be taken, that of vibrations or oscillations in the theory of light, and that of atoms in chemistry; as an example of a subjective hypothesis, that of magnetic fluids.

The Science or Mechanics Considered as an Illustration of the Abstractive Method.
The principles of the science of mechanics, the only example yet existing of a complete physical theory, are altogether formed from the data of experience by the abstractive method. The class of objects to which the science of mechanics relates,—viz.,—material bodies,—are defined by means of those sensible properties which they all possess, viz., the property of occupying space, and that of resisting change of motion. The two classes of phenomena to which the science of mechanics relates are distinguished by two words, motion and force; motion being a word denoting that which is common to the fall of heavy bodies, the flow of streams, the tides, the winds, the vibrations of sonorous bodies, the revolutions of the stars, and generally to all phenomena involving change of the portions of space occupied by bodies; and force, a word denoting that which is common to the mutual attractions and repulsions of bodies, distant or near, and of the parts of bodies, the mutual pressure or stress of bodies in contact, and of the parts of bodies, the muscular exertions of animals, and, generally, to all phenomena tending to produce or to prevent motion.

The laws of the composition and resolution of motions, and of the composition and resolution of forces, are expressed by propositions which are the consequences of the definitions of motion and force respectively. The laws of the relations between motion and force are the consequences of certain axioms, being the most simple and general expressions for all that has been ascertained by experience respecting those relations.

Mechanical Hypotheses In Various Branches or Physics.
The fact that the theory of motions and motive forces is the only complete physical theory, has naturally led to the adoption of mechanical hypotheses in the theories of other branches of physics; that is to say, hypothetical definitions, in which classes of phenomena are defined conjecturally as being constituted by some kind of motion or motive force not obvious to the senses (called molecular motion or force) as when light and radiant heat as defined as consisting in molecular vibrations, thermometric heat in molecular vortices, and the rigidity of solids in molecular attractions and repulsions.

The hypothetical motions and forces are sometimes ascribed to hypothetical bodies, such as the luminiferous aether; sometimes to hypothetical parts, whereof tangible bodies are conjecturally defined to consist, such as atoms, atomic nuclei with elastic atmospheres, and the like.

A mechanical hypothesis is held to have fulfilled its object, when, by applying the known axioms of mechanics to the hypothetical motions and forces, results are obtained agreeing with the observed laws of the classes of phenomena under consideration, and when, by the aid of such a hypothesis, phenomena previously unobserved are predicted, and laws anticipated, it attains a high degree of probability.

A mechanical hypothesis is the better, the more extensive the range of phenomena whose laws it serves to deduce from the axioms of mechanics; and the perfection of such a hypothesis would be, if it could, by means of one connected system of suppositions, be made to form a basis for all branches of molecular physics.

Advantages and Disadvantages of Hypothetical Theories.
It is well known that certain hypothetical theories, such as the wave theory of light, have proved extremely useful, by reducing the laws of a various and complicated class of phenomena to a few simple principles, and by anticipating laws afterwards verified by observation.

Such are the results to be expected from well-framed hypotheses in every branch of physics, when used with judgment, and especially with that caution which arises from the consideration, that even those hypotheses whose consequences are most fully confirmed by experiment, never can by any amount of evidence attain that degree of certainty which belongs to observed facts.

Of mechanical hypotheses in particular, it is to be observed, that their tendency is to combine all branches of physics into one system, by making the axioms of mechanics the first principles of the laws of all phenomena; an object for the attainment of which an earnest wish was expressed by Newton.

In the mechanical theories of elasticity, light, heat, and electricity, considerable progress has been made towards that end.

The neglect of the caution already referred to, however, has caused some hypotheses to assume, in the minds of the public generally, as well as in those of many scientific men, that authority which belongs to facts alone, and a tendency has consequently often evinced itself to explain away, or set aside, facts inconsistent with these hypotheses, which facts, rightly appreciated, would have formed the basis of true theories; thus the fact of the production of heat by friction, the basis of the true theory of heat, was long neglected, because inconsistent with the hypothesis of caloric; and the fact of the production of cold by electric currents, at certain metallic junctions, the key (as Professor William Thomson recently showed) to the true theory of the phenomena of thermo-electricity, was, from inconsistency with prevalent assumptions respecting the so-called "electric fluid," by some regarded as a thing to be explained away, and by others as a delusion.

Such are the evils which arise from the misuse of hypothesis.

Advantages of an Extension of the Abstractive Method of Framing Theories.
Besides the perfecting of Mechanical Hypotheses, another and an entirely distinct method presents itself for combining the physical sciences into one system; and that it is by an extension of the in framing Theories.

The abstractive method has already been partially applied, and with success, to special branches of molecular physics, such as heat, electricity, and magnetism. We are now to consider in what manner it is to be applied to physics generally, considered as one science.

Instead of supposing the various classes of physical phenomena to be constituted in an occult way of modifications of motion and force, let us distinguish the properties which those classes possess in common with each other, and so define more extensive classes denoted by suitable terms. For axioms, to express the laws of those more extensive classes of phenomena, let us frame propositions comprehending as particular cases, the laws of the particular classes of phenomena comprehended under the more extensive classes. So shall we arrive at a body of principles, applicable to physical phenomena in general, and which being framed by induction from facts alone, will be free from the uncertainty which must always attach even to those mechanical hypotheses whose consequences are most fully confirmed by experiment. This extension of the abstractive process is not proposed in order to supersede the hypothetical method of theorizing; for in almost every branch of molecular physics it may be held, that a hypothetical theory is necessary as a preliminary step to reduce the expression of the phenomena to simplicity and order, before it is possible to make any progress in framing an abstractive theory.

Nature of the Science of Energetics.
Energy, or the capacity to effect changes, is the common characteristic of the various states of matter to which the several branches of physics relate; if, then, there be general laws respecting energy, such laws must be applicable, mutatis mutandis, to every branch of physics, and must express a body of principles as to physical phenomena in general.

In a paper read to the Philosophical Society of Glasgow on the 5th of January 1853, a first attempt was made to investigate such principles, by defining actual energy and potential energy, and by demonstrating a general law of the mutual transformations of those kinds of energy, of which one particular case is a previously known law of the mechanical action of heat in elastic bodies, and another, a subsequently demonstrated law which forms the basis of Professor William Thomson's Theory of thermo-electricity.

The object of the present paper is, to present in a more systematic form, both these and some other principles, forming part of a science whose subjects are, material bodies and physical phenomena in general, and which it is proposed to call the.

Definitions of Certain Terms.
The peculiar terms which will be used in treating of the Science of Energetics are purely abstract; that is to say, they are not the names of any particular object, nor of any particular phenomena, nor of any particular notions of the mind, but are names of very comprehensive classes of objects and phenomena. About such classes it is impossible to think or to reason, except by the aid of examples or of symbols. General terms are symbols employed for this purpose.

Substance.
The term "substance" will be applied to all bodies, parts of bodies, and systems of bodies. The parts of a substance may be spoken of as distinct substances, and a system of substances related to each other may be spoken of as one complex substance. Strictly speaking, the term should be "material substance," but it is easily borne in mind, that in this essay none but material substances are referred to.

Property.
The term "property" will be restricted to invariable properties; whether such as always belong to all material substances, or such as constitute the invariable distinctions between one kind of substance and another.

Mass.
Mass means "quantity of substance." Masses of one kind of substance may be compared together by ascertaining the numbers of equal parts which they contain; masses of substances of different kinds are compared by means to be afterwards referred to.

Accident.
The term "accident" will be applied to every variable state of substances, whether consisting in a condition of each part of a substance, how small soever, (which may be called an absolute accident), or in a physical relation between parts of substances, (which may be called a relative accident). Accidents to be the subject of scientific inquiry, must be capable of being measured and expressed by means of quantities. The quantity, even of an absolute accident, can only be expressed by means of a mentally-conceived relation.

The whole condition or state of a substance, so far as it is variable, is a complex accident; the independent quantities which are at once necessary and sufficient to express completely this complex accident, are independent accidents. To express the same complex accident, different systems of independent accidents may be employed; but the number of independent accidents in each system will be the same.

Examples.— The variable thermic condition of an elastic fluid is a complex accident, capable of being completely expressed by two independent accidents, which may be any two out of these three quantities—the temperature, the density, the pressure—or any two independent functions of these quantities.

The condition of strain at a point in an elastic solid, is a complex accident, capable of being completely expressed by six independent accidents, which may be the three elongations of the dimensions, and the three distortions of the faces of a molecule originally cubical, or the lengths and directions of the axes of the ellipsoidal figure assumed by a molecule originally spherical; or any six independent functions of either of those systems of quantities.

The distinction of accidents into absolute and relative is to a certain extent arbitrary; thus, the figure and dimensions of a molecule may be regarded as absolute accidents, when it is considered as a whole, or as relative accidents, when it is considered as made up of parts. Most kinds of accidents are necessarily relative, but some kinds can only be considered as relative accidents when some hypothesis is adopted as to the occult condition of the substances which they affect, as when heat is ascribed hypothetically to molecular motions; and such suppositions are excluded from the present inquiry.

Accidents may be said to be homogeneous when the quantities expressing them are capable of being put together, so that the result of the combination of the different accidents shall be expressed by one quantity. The number of heterogeneous kinds of accidents is evidently indefinite.

Effort, or Active Accident.
The term "effort" will be applied to every cause which varies, or tends to vary, an accident. This term, therefore, comprehends not merely forces or pressures, to which it is usually applied, but all causes of variation in the condition of substances.

Efforts may be homogeneous or heterogeneous.

Homogeneous efforts are compared by balancing them against each other.

An effort, being a condition of the parts of a substance, or a relation between substances, is itself an accident, and may be distinguished as an "active accident."

With reference to a given limited substance, internal efforts are those which consist in actions amongst its parts; external efforts those which consist in actions between the given substance and other substances.

Passive Accident.
The condition which an effort tends to vary may be called a "passive accident," and when the word "accident" is not otherwise qualified, "passive accident" may be understood.

Radical Accident.
If there be a quantity such that it expresses at once the magnitude of the passive accident caused by a given effort, and the magnitude of the active accident or effort itself, let the condition denoted by that quantity be called a "radical accident."

[The velocity of a given mass is an example of a radical accident, for it is itself a passive accident, and also the measure of the kind of effort called accelerative force, which acting for unity of time, is capable of producing that passive accident.]

[The strength of an electric current is also a radical accident.]

Effort as a Measure of Mass.
Masses, whether homogeneous or heterogeneous, may be compared by means of the efforts required to produce in them variations of some particular accident. The accident conventionally employed for this purpose is velocity.

Work.
"Work" is the variation of an accident by an effort, and is a term comprehending all phenomena in which physical change takes place. Quantity of work is measured by the product of the variation of the passive accident by the magnitude of the effort, when this is constant; or by the integral of the effort, with respect to the passive accident, when the effort is variable.

Let $$x$$ denote a passive accident.

$$X$$ an effort tending to vary it.

$$W$$ the work performed in increasing $$x$$ from $$x_0$$ to $$x_1$$, then,

Work is represented geometrically by the area of a curve, whereof the abscissa represents the passive accident, and the ordinate, the effort.

Energy, Actual and Potential.
The term "energy" comprehends every state of a substance which constitutes a capacity for performing work. Quantities of energy are measured by the quantities of work which they constitute the means of performing.

"Actual energy" comprehends those kinds of capacity for performing work which consist in particular states of each part of a substance, how small soever; that is, in an absolute accident, such as heat, light, electric current, vis-viva. Actual energy is essentially positive.

"Potential energy" comprehends those kinds of capacity for performing work which consist in relations between substances, or parts of substances; that is, in relative accidents. To constitute potential energy there must be a passive accident capable of variation, and an effort tending to produce such variation; the integral of this effort, with respect to the possible variation of the passive accident, is potential energy, which differs in work from this—that in work the change has been effected, which, in potential energy, is capable of being effected.

Let $$x$$ denote an accident, $$x_1$$ its actual value; $$X$$, an effort tending to vary it; $$x_Q$$, the value to which the effort tends to bring the accident; then

$$\int_{x_1}^{x_0}X\,dx = U$$, denotes potential energy.

Examples of potential energy are, the chemical affinity of uncombined elements; the energy of gravitation, of magnetism, of electrical attraction and repulsion, of electro-motive force, of that part of elasticity which arises from actions between the parts of a body, and generally, of all mutual actions of bodies, and parts of bodies.

Potential energy may be passive or negative, according as the effort in question is of the same sign with the variation of the passive accident, or of the opposite sign; that is, according as $$X$$ is of the same sign with $$dx$$, or of the opposite sign.

It is to be observed, that the states of substances comprehended under the term actual energy, may possess the characteristics of potential energy also; that is to say, may be accompanied by a tendency or effort to vary relative accidents; as heat, in an elastic fluid, is accompanied by a tendency to expand ; that is, an effort to increase the volume of the receptacle containing the fluid.

The states to which the term, potential energy, is especially applied, are those which are solely due to mutual actions.

To put a substance into a state of energy, or to increase its energy, is obviously a kind of work.

First Axiom: All kinds of Work and Energy are Homogeneous.
This axiom means, that any kind of energy may be made the means of performing any kind of work. It is a fact arrived at by induction from experiment and observation, and its establishment is more especially due to the experiments of M. Joule.

This axiom leads, in many respects, to the same consequences with the hypothesis that all those kinds of energy which are not sensibly the results of motion and motive force are the results of occult modifications of motion and motive force.

But the axiom differs from the hypothesis in this, that the axiom is simply the generalized allegation of the facts proved by experience, while the hypothesis involves conjectures as to objects and phenomena which never can be subjected to observation.

It is the truth of this axiom which renders a science of energetics possible.

The efforts and passive accidents to which the branches of physics relate are varied and heterogeneous; but they are all connected with energy, a uniform species of quantity, which pervades every branch of physics.

This axiom is also equivalent to saying, that energy is transformable and transferable (an allegation which, in the previous paper referred to, was included in the definition of energy): for, to transform energy, means to employ energy depending on accidents of one kind, in putting a substance into a state of energy depending on accidents of another kind ; and to transfer energy, means to employ the energy of one substance in putting another substance into a state of energy, both of which are kinds of work, and may, according to the axiom, be performed by means of any kind of energy.

Second Axiom. : The Total Energy of a Substance Cannot be Altered by the Mutual Actions of its Parts.
Of the truth of this axiom there can be no doubt; but some difference of opinion may exist as to the evidence on which it rests. There is ample experimental evidence from which it might be proved; but independently of such evidence, there is the argument, that the law expressed by this axiom is essential to the stability of the universe, such as it exists. The special application of this law to mechanics is expressed in two ways, which are virtually equivalent to each other; the principle of visviva, and that of the equality of action and reaction. The latter principle is demonstrated by Newton, from considerations connected with the stability of the universe (Principia, Scholium to the Laws of Motion) ; for he shows, that but for the equality of action and reaction, the earth, with a continually accelerated velocity, would fly away through infinite space.

It follows, from the Second Axiom, that all work consists in the transfer and transformation of energy alone; for otherwise the total amount of energy would be altered. Also, that the energy of a substance can be varied by external efforts alone.

External Potential Equilibrium.
The entire condition of a substance, so far as it is variable, as explained in Article VIII., under the head of accident, is a complex accident, which may be expressed in various ways by means of different systems of quantities denoting independent accidents; but the number of independent accidents in each system must be the same.

The quantity of work required to produce any change in the condition of the substance, that is to say, the potential energy received by it from without, during that change, may in like manner be expressed in different ways by the sums of different systems of integrals of external efforts, each integrated with respect to the independent accident which it tends to augment; but the number of integrals in each system, and the number of efforts, like the number of independent accidents, must be the same; and so also must the sums of the integrals, each sum representing the same quantity of work in a different way.

The different systems of efforts which correspond to different systems of independent accidents, each expressing the same complex accident, may be called equivalent systems of efforts; and the finding of a system of efforts equivalent to another may be called conversion of efforts.*

 * The conversion of efforts in Physics, is connected with the theory of lineal transformations in Algebra.

When the law of variation of potential energy, by a change of condition of a substance, is known, the system of external efforts corresponding to any system of independent accidents is found by means of this principle:

Each effort is equal to the rate of variation of the potential energy tvith respect to the independent accident which that effort tends to vary; or symbolically

External Potential Equilirrium of a substance takes place, when the external effort to vary each of the independent accidents is null; that is to say, when the rate of variation of the potential energy of the substance with the variation of each independent accident is null.

For a given substance, there are as many conditions of equilibrium, of the form dTJ

(3.) -5-- o,

as there are independent accidents in the expression of its condition. The special application of this law to motion and motive force constitutes the principle of virtual velocities, from which the whole science of statics is deducible.

Internal Potential Equilibrium.
The internal potential equilibrium of a substance consists in the equilibrium of each of its parts, considered separately ; that is to say, in the nullity of the rate of variation of the potential energy of each part with respect to each of the independent accidents on which the condition of such part depends.

Examples of particular cases of this principle are, the laws of the equilibrium of elastic solids, and of the distribution of statical electricity.

Third Axiom.
The Effort to Perform Work of a Given Kind, Caused by a Given Quantity of Actual Energy, is the Sum of the Efforts Caused by the Parts of thai Quantity.

A law equivalent to this axiom, under the name of the " General Law Of The Transformation Of Energy," formed the principal subject of the previous paper already referred to.

This axiom appears to be a consequence of the definition of actual energy, as a capacity for performing work possessed by each part of a substance independently of its relations to other parts, rather than an independent proposition.

Its applicability to natural phenomena arises from the fact, that there are states of substances corresponding to the definition of actual energy.

The mode of applying this third axiom is as follows:—

Let a homogeneous substance possess a quantity Q, of a particular kind of actual energy, uniformly distributed, and let it be required to determine the amount of the effort arising from the actual energy, which tends to perform a particular kind of work W, by the variation of a particular passive accident x.

The total effort to perform this kind of work is represented by the rate of its increase relatively to the passive accident, viz.,— X= — dx

Divide the quantity of actual energy Q into an indefinite number of indefinitely small parts 3Q ; the portion of the effort X due to each of those parts will be dX -and adding these partial efforts together, the effort caused by the whole quantity of actual energy will be

(4.) Q^-=Qd2W dQ — dQ dx

If this be equal to the effective effort X, then that effort is simply proportional to, and wholly caused by, the actual energy Q. This is the case of the pressure of a perfect gas, and the centrifugal force of a moving body. If the effort caused by the actual energy differs from the effective effort, their difference represents, when the former is the less, an additional effort dQ

(5.) And when the former is the greater, a counter effort due to some other cause or causes.

Rate Of Transformation ; Metamorphic Function.
The effort to augment a given accident x, caused by actual energy of a given kind Q, may also be called the "Hate of Transformation" of the given kind of actual energy with increase of the given accident; for the limit of the amount of actual energy which disappears in performing work by an indefinitely small augmentation dx, of the accident, is

(6-) ^ aQ = Q*JL dX=QdTM dQdx dQ

The last form of the above expression is obviously applicable when the work -W is the result of the variation of any number of independent accidents, each by the corresponding effort. For example, let x, y, z, &c., be any number of independent accidents, and X, Y, Z, &c., the efforts to augment them ; so that dW = Xdx + Ydy + Zcfe + &c. Then (7.) rfH-Q^ + g* +%* + *»' | = Qd ■ as before. dQ The function of actual energy, efforts, and passive accidents, denoted by dW— pdH. dQ

whose variation, multiplied by the actual energy, gives the amount of actual energy transformed in performing the work d W, may be called the " Metamorphic Function" of the kind of actual energy Q relatively to the kind of work W.

When this metamorphic function is known for a given homogeneous substance, the quantity H of actual energy of the kind Q transformed to the kind of work W, during a given operation, is found by taking the integral

(9.) H= /*QdF.

The transformation of actual energy into work by the variation of passive accidents is a reversible operation; that is to say, if the passive accidents be made to vary to an equal extent in an opposite direction, potential energy will be exerted upon the substance, and transformed into actual energy: a case represented by the expression (9.) becoming negative.

The metamorphic function of heat relatively to expansive power, was first employed in a paper on the Economy of Heat in Expansive Machines, read to the Royal Society of Edinburgh in April 1851 ("Trans. Roy. Soc. Edin.," vol. xxi.)

The metamorphic function of heat relatively to electricity was employed by Professor William Thomson, in a paper on Thermo-Electricity, read to the Royal Society of Edinburgh in May 1854 ("Trans. Roy. Soc. Edin.," vol. xxi.), and was the means of anticipating some most remarkable laws, afterwards confirmed by experiment.

Equilibrium Of Actual Energy ; Metabatic Function.
It is known by experiment, that a state of actual energy is directly transferable; that is to say, the actual energy of a particular kind (such as heat), in one substance, may be diminished, the sole work performed being an equal augmentation of the same kind of actual energy in another substance.

Equilibrium of actual energy of a particular kind Q between substances A and B, takes place, when the tendency of B to transfer this kind of energy to B is equal to the tendency of B to transfer the same kind of energy to A.

Laws respecting the equilibrium of particular kinds of actual energy have been ascertained by experiment, and in some cases anticipated by means of mechanical hypotheses, according to which, all actual energy consists in the vis-viva of motion.

The following law will now be proved, respecting the equilibrium of actual energy of all possible kinds :— Theorem.—If Equilirrium Of Actual Energy Of A Given Kind

TAKE PLACE BETWEEN A GIVEN PAIR OF SUBSTANCES, POSSESSING RESPECTIVELY QUANTITIES OF ACTUAL ENERGY OF THAT KIND IN A GIVEN RATIO, THEN THAT EQUILIBRIUM WILL SUBSIST FOR EVERY PAIR OF QUANTITIES OF ACTUAL ENERGY BEARING TO EACH OTHER THE SAME RATIO.

Demonstration.—The tendency of one substance to transfer actual energy of the kind Q to another, must depend on some sort of effort, whose nature and laws may be known or unknown. Let YA be this effort for the substance A, YB the corresponding effort for the substance B. Then a condition of equilibrium of actual energy is

(10.) YA = Y,

The effort Y may or may not be proportionate to the actual energy Q multiplied by a quantity independent of Q. Case first.—If it is so proportional, let Y== Iq, K being independent of Q ; then the condition of equilibrium becomes Q.=K. a ratio independent of the absolute amounts of actual energy.

Case second.—If the effort Y is not simply proportional to the actual energy Q, the portion of it caused by that actual energy, according to the principle of article 13, deduced from the third axiom, is, for each substance, and a second condition of equilibrium of actual energy is furnished by the equation

In order that this condition may be fulfilled simultaneously with the condition (10.) it is necessary that that is to say, that the ratio of the quantities of actual energy in the two substances should be independent of those quantities themselves; a condition expressed, as before, by

(11.) Jk=ik v ; Q. KA Q.E.D.

This ratio is a quantity to be ascertained by experiment, and may be called the ratio of the Specific Actual Energies of the substances A and B, for the kind of energy under consideration. The function

(12) ^.A_= S» == t

whose identity for the two substances expresses the condition of equilibrium of the actual energy Q between them, may be called the " MetaBatic Function" for that kind of energy.

In the science of thermo-dynamics, the metabatic function is absolute temperature; and the factor K is real specific heat. The theorem stated above, when applied to heat, amounts to this: that the real specific heat of a substance is independent of its temperature.

Use Of The Metabatic Function; Transformation Of Energy In An Aggregate.
From the mutual proportionality of the actual energy Q, and the metabatic function 4, it follows that the operations Qjl, 6J dQ de are equivalent; and that the latter may be substituted for the former in all the equations expressing the laws of the transformation of energy. We have therefore

(13.) QJ«L=*J^=^ dQ d0 d6dx

for the effort to transform actual energy of the kind Q into work of the kind W, when expressed in terms of the metabatic function; and

(14.) dK = dd—

for the limit of the indefinitely small transformation produced by an indefinitely small variation of the accidents on which the kind of work W depends.

There is also a form of metamorphic function.

(15.) *-*!L-/\£UKF dt J 6 suited for employment along with the metabatic function, in order to find, by the integration

(16.) H=3/<d»

the quantity of actual energy of a given kind Q transformed to the kind of work W during any finite variation of accidents.

The advantage of the above expressions is, that they are applicable, not merely to a homogeneous substance, but to any heterogeneous substance or aggregate, which is internally in a state of equilibrium of actual and potential energy; for throughout all the parts of an aggregate in that condition, the metabatic function t is the same, and each of the efforts X, &c., is the same, and consequently the metamorphic function <p is the same.

" Carnot's function" in thermo-dynamics is proportional to the reciprocal of the metabatic function of heat.

Efficiency Of Engines.
An engine is a contrivance for transforming energy by means of the periodical repetition of a cycle of variations of the accidents of a substance.

The efficiency of an engine is the proportion which the energy permanently transformed to a useful form by it bears to the whole energy communicated to the working substance.

In a perfect engine the cycle of variations is thus:—
 * I. The metabatic function is increased, say from do to h.
 * II. The metamorphic function is increased by the amount A <p.
 * III. The metabatic function is diminished from $1 back to $0.
 * IV. The metamorphic function is diminished by the amount A <p.

During the second operation, the energy received by the working substance, and transformed from the actual to the potential form is dx A <p. During the fourth operation energy is transformed back, to the amount i0 A <p. So that the energy permanently transformed during each cycle A a is (0!—io) A <p; and the efficiency of the engine-! °

Diffusion Of Actual Energy ; Irreversible Or Frictional Operations.
There is a tendency in every substance or system of substances, to the equable diffusion of actual energy ; that is to say, to its transfer between the parts of the substance or system, until the value of the metabatic function becomes uniform.

This process is not directly reversible; that is to say, there is no such operation as a direct concentration of actual energy through a tendency of the metabatic function to become unequal in different parts of a substance or system.

Hence arises the impossibility of using the energy re-converted to the actual form at the lower limit of the metabatic function in an engine.

There is an analogy in respect of this property of irreversibility, between the diffusion of one kind of actual energy, and certain irreversible transformations of one kind of actual energy to another, called by Professor William Thomson, "Frictional phenomena," viz., the production of heat by rubbing and agitation, and by electric currents in a homogeneous substance at a uniform temperature.

In fact, a conjecture may be hazarded, that immediate diffusion of the actual energy produced in frictional phenomena, is the circumstance which renders them irreversible ; for, suppose a small part of a substance to have its actual energy increased by the exertion of some kind of work upon it; then, if the increase of actual energy so produced be immediately diffused amongst other parts, so as to restore the uniformity of the metabatic function, the whole process will be irreversible. This speculation, however, is, for the present, partly hypothetical; and, therefore does not, strictly speaking, form part of the science of energetics.

Measurement Of Time.
The general relations between energy and time must form an important branch of the science of energetics; but for the present, all that I am prepared to state on this subject is the following Definition Of Equal Times:

Equal times are the times in which equal quantities of the same hind of work are 'performed by equal and similar substances, under wholly similar circumstances.

Concluding Remarks.
It is to be observed, that the preceding articles are not the results of a new and hitherto untried speculation, but are the generalized expression of a method of reasoning which has already been applied with success to special branches of physics.

In this brief essay, it has not been attempted to do more than to give an outline of some of the more obvious principles of the science of energetics, or the abstract theory of physical phenomena in general; a science to which the maxim, true of all science, is specially applicable— that its subjects are boundless, and that they never can, by human labours, be exhausted, nor the science brought to perfection.

title: Outlines of the Science of Energetics


text:
Henry VIII and the English Monasteries

 * Preface
 * /Introduction/
 * /Chapter 1/
 * /Chapter 2/
 * /Chapter 3/
 * /Chapter 4/
 * /Chapter 5/
 * /Chapter 6/
 * /Chapter 7/
 * /Chapter 8/
 * /Chapter 9/
 * /Chapter 10/
 * /Chapter 11/
 * /Chapter 12/
 * /Chapter 13/
 * /Chapter 14/
 * /Chapter 15/
 * /Chapter 16/
 * /Chapter 17/
 * /Chapter 18/
 * /Chapter 19/
 * /Chapter 20/
 * /Chapter 21/
 * /Chapter 22/

 * /Appendix/
 * /General Index/

title: Henry VIII and the English Monasteries


text:
USAMGIK Ordinance 33

HEADQUARTERS

UNITED STATES ARMY FORCES IN KOREA

Office of the Military Governor

Seoul, Korea

ORDINANCE NUMBER 33 6 December 1945

 Section Ⅰ. Ordinance Number 31 having never been published in the Official Gazette hereby declared null and void as though it were never issued.

 Section Ⅱ. The titile to all gold, silver, platinum, currency, securities accounts in financial institutions, credits, valuable papers, and any other property located within the jurisdiction of this Command, of any type and description, and the proceeds therof, owned or controlled, directly or indirectily, in whole or part, on or since 9 August 1945, by the Government of Japan, or any agency thereof, or by any of its nationals, corporations, socieries, associations, or any other organization of such government or incorporated or regulated by it is hereby vested in the Military Government of Korea as of 25 September 1945, and all such property is owned by the Military Government of Korea. It is illegal for any person without the authority of the Military Government of Korea, to enter upon or take possession of any such property, remove any part of such property, or injure of impair the value or utility of any such properly

 Section Ⅲ. All custodians, curators, officials, banks, trust companies and all other individuals, organizations or associations having possession, custody, or control of property vested in the Military Government of Korea by Section Ⅱ of this orinance are required :

 a. (1) To hold the same, suvject to the directions of the Military Governor, and pending such direction not to transfer or otherwise dispose of the same.

 (2) To perserve, maintain and safeguard and to prevent any action which will impair the value or utility of such property.

 (3) To maintain accurate records and accounts.

 b. When and as directied by the Milirary Governor

 (1) File reports furnishing such data as may be required with respect to such property and all receipts and expenditures in connevtion therewith on and after 9 August 1945

 (2) Deliver custody and control of such property and all books records and accounts; and

 (3) Account for the property and all income and proceeds.

 Section Ⅳ. Any person violating the provisions of this ordinance or of any license or order issued thereunder, shall, upon conviction by a Military Occupation Court, suffer such punishment as the court shall determine.

 Section Ⅴ. This ordinance is effective upon publication in the Official Gazette.

 * BY DIRECTION OF THE COMMANDING GENERAL

 * UNITED STATES ARMY FORCES IN KOREA

A. V. ARNOLD

Major General, United States Army

Military Governor of Korea.

군정법령 제33호

title: USAMGIK Ordinance 33


text: Henry VIII and the English Monasteries/Chapter 1


text: File:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu

title: File:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu


text: Index:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu

title: Index:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu


text:
Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/7

 MIND

A QUARTERLY REVIEW

OF

PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.

title: Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/7


text:
Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/8

 THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS LIMITED

title: Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/8


text: Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/10


text:
Page:Mind (New Series) Volume 12.djvu/447

 New Series. No. 48.][October, 1903.

MIND A QUARTERLY REVIEW OF PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

 I.— THE REFUTATION OF IDEALISM. .

Idealism, if it asserts any general conclusion about the universe at all, asserts that it is spiritual. There are two points about this assertion to which I wish to call attention. These points are that, whatever be its exact meaning, it is certainly meant to assert (1) that the universe is very different indeed from what it seems, and (2) that it has quite a large number of properties which it does not seem to have. Chairs and tables and mountains seem to be very different from us; but, when the whole universe is declared to be spiritual, it is certainly meant to assert that they are far more like us than we think. The idealist means to assert that they are in some sense neither lifeless nor unconscious, as they certainly seem to be; and I do not think his language is so grossly deceptive, but that we may assume him to believe that they really are very different indeed from what they seem. And secondly when he declares that they are spiritual, he means to include in that term quite a large number of different properties. When the whole universe is declared to be spiritual, it is meant not only that it is in some sense conscious, but that it has what we recognise in ourselves as the higher forms of consciousness. That it is intelligent; that it is purposeful; that it is not mechanical; all these different things are commonly asserted of it. In general, it may be said, this phrase ‘reality is spiritual’ excites and expresses the belief that the whole universe possesses all the qualities the


text:
District of Columbia v. Clephane

A. G. Riddle, for plaintiff in error.

''Wm. F. Mattingly, C. C. Cole, and Wm. A. Cook'', for defendant in error.

MILLER, J.

title: District of Columbia v. Clephane


text: Talk:District of Columbia v. Clephane

title: Talk:District of Columbia v. Clephane


text:
District of Columbia v. Clephane/Opinion of the Court

The defendant in error made a contract in writing with the board of public works of the District of Columbia in 1872 for the paving of parts of certain streets in the city of Washington with the 'Miller wood pavement.' In that contract there was the following clause, on which this action is founded, on account of its alleged violation by the defendant:

'Ninth. It is further agreed that if at any time during the     period of three years from the completion of the work to be      done under this contract any part or parts thereof shall      become defective from imperfect or improper material or      construction, and in the opinion of the said party of the      first part require repair, the said party of the second part      will, on being notified thereof, immediately commence and      complete the same to the satisfaction of the said party of      the first part; and in case of a failure or neglect of the      said party so to do, the same shall be done under the directions and orders of the said party of the first part at      the cost and expense of the said party of the second part.'

The plaintiff alleges that the defendant did not in good, sufficient, and workmanlike manner, nor in accordance with the specifications of the contract, execute the work therein mentioned, and that within three years from its completion a large part o it became defective from imperfect and improper material and construction. It is further alleged that defendant was duly notified of this, and required to repair it, which he failed to do, whereupon plaintiff did so, at an expense of $40,517, for which judgment is asked against defendant. The answer is a substantial denial of these allegations, with some special matter in defense not material to be noticed here. On the trial before a jury, after all the plaintiff's evidence was in, the defendant demurred to it as insufficient, and the court directed the jury to find a verdict for the defendant. It appears from the bill of exceptions, which contained all the evidence offered, that within the three years after the completion of the work the pavement became so badly broken up and so imperfect as to require extensive repairs, and demand was made on defendant to repair it; that on his failure to do so the officers of the district who had charge of the matter determined to remove the wooden pavement on several squares of the streets and replace it with another kind of pavement, to-wit, vulcanite concrete pavement; that the cost of this was $40,517, except that of this sum $1,242.92 was for taking up and relaying wood pavement and removing debris. No evidence was given that the material furnished by defendants was defective or unsound, or that the work was not well done in putting it down.

It is too plain for argument that the defendant did not agree that if his pavement should need repair within the three years, that the authorities of the district, because he failed to repair, could change the entire character of the pavement from a wooden to a stone or concrete or vulcanite or any other pavement, and place it where the one had been constructed by him, and charge the entire cost of the new and better class of pavement to him. Even if it be conceded that defendant was bound at all hazard to keep his pavement in repair for the three years, or pay the district government for so doing, this meant repair, not a new pavement,-such repairs as that kind of pavement was capable of, and not a new and much more expensive one, to be laid at his cost. As plaintiff did not make such repairs, and offered no evidence of what it would have cost to make them, we do not see that there was any evidence on which a verdict could be rendered. It is true that it appears that plaintiff paid $1,242.92 for taking up and relaying wooden blocks, and if there had been any evidence that this was rendered necessary by the failure of the defendant to perform his contract well, it might have been left to the jury as to that much damage by reason of such failure.

But we concur with the court below that the defendant did not contract for the perfection of his work for three years, nor that he would keep it good for that time. His contract was to lay the Miller wood pavement, a patented invention. Of the capacity of this invention for resisting weather and use the board of public works, and not he, took the responsibility. All his material was submitted to the inspection of the plaintiff's engineers, and all his work was done under their eyes, and he could only receive his pay on their certificate of work done and inspected. The language of his agreement is that if any parts thereof-that is, the pavement-'shall become defective from imperfect or improper material or construction,' he will repair. No evidence was offered that any of the material was imperfect or improper when placed there, or that any of this construction was improperly or defectively done. We think this was necessary to enable plaintiff to recover. It will not be presumed that because the work needed repair within three years that the material furnished by plaintiff was originally imperfect, or that the construction was not well done. The pavement may have become defective from improper and rough usage, from permitting water to stand on it and produce decay, or, what is far more likely, from the inherent inability o the Miller wood pavement to resist the usual disintegrating forces to which all pavements are subjected. Against this defendant did not warrant, and for its consequences he did not agree to become responsible. In the absence, therefore, of any evidence that the pavement became defective within three years from imperfect or improper material or construction used by defendant, there was no case against him, and the direction of the judge was correct.

The judgment of the supreme court of the District of Columbia is therefore affirmed.


text: Talk:District of Columbia v. Clephane/Opinion of the Court


text:
Vinal v. West Virginia Oil Oil Land Company

John A. Hutchinson, for plaintiff in error.

N. Goff, Jr., for defendant in error.

WAITE, C. J.


text: Talk:Vinal v. West Virginia Oil Oil Land Company


text:
Vinal v. West Virginia Oil Oil Land Company/Opinion of the Court

This judgment is affirmed. One partner cannot recover his share of a debt due to the partnership in an action at law, prosecuted in his own name alone, against the debtor. That is the only question presented by the bill of exceptions in this case. The refusal of the court below to grant a new trial is not reviewable here. Affirmed.


text: Talk:Vinal v. West Virginia Oil Oil Land Company/Opinion of the Court


text:
Hambro v. Casey

''Thos. L. Bayne'', for plaintiffs in error.

J. D. Rouse and ''Wm. Grant'', for defendant in error.

WAITE, C. J.

title: Hambro v. Casey


text: Talk:Hambro v. Casey

title: Talk:Hambro v. Casey


text:
Hambro v. Casey/Opinion of the Court

The controlling facts in this case are as follows: C. J. Hambro & Son, a banking firm in London, England, were the correspondents of the New Orleans National Banking Association, a national bank in New Orleans. The bank kept a running account with the firm, drawing upon them from time to time as occasion required, and remitting bills to cover its drafts. In the course of its business the bank became the owner of certain bills drawn by a New Orleans firm on their correspondents in France, amounting in the aggregate to 440,000 francs, or $93,121 in United States currency. These bills were indorsed by the bank, and remitted to Hambro & Son for collection and credit, but before they matured the bank and the drawers and drawees all failed. The failure of the bank occurred on the 4th of October, 1873, and, on a statement of accounts a few days after, the bank was found in debt to Hambro & Son for the sum of $89,798.30. The bills which had been remitted were protested at maturity at an expense of $1,356, which was paid by Hambro & Son. This item was not included in the balance shown by the account stated. Under the laws of Louisiana, the damages upon protest of foreign bills of exchange is 10 per cent. on the principal sum specified in the bills. Suit was brought against the receiver of the bank, to recover the charges for protest, and the 10 per cent. damages. Judgment was given against the receiver for the expenses of protest, but in his favor on the claim for damages. This writ of error was sued out by Hambro & Son to reverse that judgment so far as it was in favor of the receiver. In our opinion the judgment was clearly right. The protested bills are the property of the bank, subject, in the hands of Hambro & Son, to their lien as bankers, for the security of the balance due them on general account. All moneys collected by Hambro & Son on the bills, whether it be for principal, interest, or damages, must be passed as soon as collected to the credit of the bank. Hambro & Son are the holders of the bills, but in no legal sense the owners, though it may be their lien is for more than can be collected from the drawers or drawees. Clearly the law does not require the bank to pay the damages, when the payment, if made, must be passed to its own credit on the books of its collecting agents. That would be the operative effect of such a judgment as is now asked for.

Judgment affirmed.

title: Hambro v. Casey/Opinion of the Court


text: Talk:Hambro v. Casey/Opinion of the Court


text:
Aurrecoechea v. Bangs (110 U.S. 217)

No brief filed for plaintiff in error.

A. Chester, for defendant in error.

WAITE, C. J.

title: Aurrecoechea v. Bangs (110 U.S. 217)


text: Talk:Aurrecoechea v. Bangs (110 U.S. 217)


text:
Aurrecoechea v. Bangs (110 U.S. 217)/Opinion of the Court

The counsel on both sides stipulated in writing to submit this case under rule 20. The stipulation bears date November 15, 1883. It was filed here on the twelfth of December. By its terms the counsel for the plaintiff in error was to have until the twelfth of December to serve and file his printed argument; the counsel for the defendant in error until the twenty-fifth of December to serve and file his printed argument; and the counsel for the plaintiff in error 10 days to reply. No argument has been filed in behalf of plaintiff in error, but one was filed in behalf of the defendant in error on the fifteenth of December. On the last day for submitting cases under the rule, which was after the expiration of the time the plaintiff in error was entitled to for his reply, the defendant in error submitted the case under the stipulation. In Muller v. Dows, 94 U.S. 277, it was decided that stipulations of this kind between counsel might be enforced, and that they could not be withdrawn by either party without the consent of the other, except by leave of the court upon cause shown. We therefore take the case as submitted under the rule, although there is no argument for the plaintiff in error, and without passing specially upon the several assignments of error, which were returned with the transcript in accordance with the requirements of section 997 of the Revised Statutes, affirm the judgment.


text: Talk:Aurrecoechea v. Bangs (110 U.S. 217)/Opinion of the Court


text:
United States v. Graham

''Sol. Gen. Phillips and Thomas Simons'', for appellant.

''Robt. B. Lines'', for appellee.

WAITE, C. J.

title: United States v. Graham


text: Talk:United States v. Graham

title: Talk:United States v. Graham


text:
United States v. Graham/Opinion of the Court

We are unable to distinguish this case in principle from that of U.S. v. Temple, 105 U.S. 97, in which it was decided that an officer of the navy who, while engaged in public business, traveled under orders by land or sea, the travel by sea not being in a public vessel of the United States, was entitled, under the act of June 30, 1876, c. 159, (20 St. 65,) to mileage at the rate of eight cents a mile for the whole distance traveled, whether by sea or land. The mileage sued for in this case accrued while the act of March 3, 1835, c. 27, (4 St. 757,) was in force. The language of that act, on which the question now presented arises, is as follows:

'It is hereby expressly declared that the yearly allowance     provided for in this act is all the pay, compensation, and      allowance that shall be received, under any circumstances      whatever, by any such officer or person, except for traveling      expenses under orders, for which ten cents per mile shall be      allowed.'

That of the act of 1876, passed upon in Temple's case, was:

'And so much of the act of June 16, 1874, * *  * as provides      that only actual traveling expenses shall be allowed to any      person holding employment or appointment under the United      States while engaged on public business, as is applicable to      the officers of the navy so engaged, is hereby repealed; and      the sum of eight cents per mile shall be allowed such      officers while so engaged in lieu of their actual expenses.'

It is found as a fact, in this case, that on the sixth of April, 1835, which was only a little more than a month after the act of 1835 was passed, circular instructions were issued from the treasury department to the effect that mileage at the rate of 10 cents a mile was fixed by law and should be paid for traveling expenses within the United States, but that the usual and necessary passage money actually paid by officers returning from foreign service, under orders or on sick ticket, when they could not return in a public vessel, would be paid as theretofore, as well as the like expenses of officers going out. The navy regulations, adopted in 1865, and in force in 1872, when the claim of Graham, the appellee, accrued, provided that 'for traveling out of the United States the actual expenses only are allowed.' It is also found that from the time of the passage of the act of 1835 until the decision of Temple's Case in this court, the navy and treasury departments had, with a single exception, always held that the 10 cents a mile did not apply to travel to, from, or in foreign countries, but only to travel i the United States. In Temple's Case the long-continued practice in the departments was relied on to justify the decision of the accounting officers of the treasury against him, but the fact of the actual existence of the practice was not found as it has been now.

The operative words in the act of 1876 are, 'the sum of eight cents per mile shall be allowed;' and the act of 1835, 'for which ten cents per mile shall be allowed.' In Temple's Case it was said the language of the act of 1876 was so clear and explicit as not to be open to construction, and to our minds the same is true of the act of 1835. Under both acts all traveling expenses are to be paid by mileage, and there is not in either of them any indication of an intention of congress to make a distinction between travel by sea or on land, in foreign countries or in the United States. As was remarked by Mr. Justice WOODS, 'the practice * *  * finds no higher warrant or sanction in the act of 1835 than in the act of 1876.' Such being the case, it matters not what the practice of the departments may have been or how long continued, for it can only be resorted to in aid of interpretation, and 'it is not allowable to interpret what has no need of interpretation.' If there were ambiguity or doubt, then such a practice, begun so early and continued so long, would be in the highest degree persuasive, if not absolutely controlling, in its effect. But, with language clear and precise, and with its meaning evident, there is no room for construction, and consequently no need of anything to give it aid. The cases to this effect are numerous. Edwards' Lessee v. Darby, 12 Wheat. 206; U.S. v. Temple, supra; Swift Co. v. U.S. 105 U.S. 695; Ruggles v. Illinois, 108 U.S. ; [S.C.. 2 SUP. CT. REP. 832.]

The judgment is affirmed.


text: Talk:United States v. Graham/Opinion of the Court


text:
Poor Man's Pudding and Rich Man's Crumbs

POOR MAN'S PUDDING

YOU see," said poet Blandmour, enthusiastically—as some forty years ago we walked along the road in a soft, moist snowfall, toward the end of March—"you see, my friend, that the blessed almoner, Nature, is in all things beneficent ; and not only so, but considerate in her charities, as any discreet human philanthropist might be. This snow, now, which seems so unseasonable, is in fact just what a poor husbandman needs. Rightly is this soft March snow, falling just before seed-time, rightly it is called 'Poor Man's Manure.' Distilling from kind heaven upon the soil, by a gentle penetration it nourishes every clod, ridge, and furrow. To the poor farmer it is as good as the rich farmer's farmyard enrichments. And the poor man has no trouble to spread it, while the rich man has to spread his."

"Perhaps so," said I, without equal enthusiasm, brushing some of the damp flakes from my chest. "It may be as you say, dear Blandmour. But tell me, how is it that the wind drives yonder drifts of 'Poor Man's Manure' off poor Coulter's two-acre patch here, and piles it up yonder on rich Squire Teamster's twenty-acre field?"

"Ah! to be sure—yes—well; Coulter's field, I suppose is sufficiently moist without further moistenings. Enough is as good as a feast, you know."

"Yes," replied I, "of this sort of damp fare," shaking another shower of the damp flakes from my person. "But tell me, this warm spring snow may answer very well, as you say; but how is it with the cold snows of the long, long winters here?"

"Why, do you not remember the words of the Psalmist?—'The Lord giveth snow like wool'; meaning not only that snow is white as wool, but warm, too, as wool. For the only reason, as I take it, that wool is comfortable, is because air is entangled, and therefore warmed among its fibres. Just so, then, take the temperature of a December field when covered with this snow-fleece, and you will no doubt find it several degrees above that of the air. So. you see. the winter's snow itself is beneficent: under the pretense of frost—a sort of gruff philanthropist—actually wanming the earth. which afterward is to be fertilizingly moistened by the gentle flakes of March."

"I like to hear you talk, dear Blandmour; and guided by your benevolent heart, can only wish to poor Coulter plenty of this 'Poor Man's Manure."

"But that is not all," said Blandmour, eagerly. "Did you never hear of the 'Poor Man's Eye-water?"

"Never."

"Take this soft March snow, melt it, and bottle it. It keeps pure as alcohol. The very best thing in the world for weak eyes, I have a whole demijohn of it myself. But the poorest man, afflicted in his eyes, can freely help himself to this same all-bountiful remedy. Now. what a kind provision is that!"

"Then 'Poor Man's Manure' is 'Poor Man's Eye-water' too?"

"Exactly. And what could be more economically contrived? One thing answering two ends—ends so very distinct."

"Very distinct, indeed."

"Ah! that is your way. Making sport of earnest. But never mind. We have been talking of snow; but common rain-water—such as falls all the year round—is still more kindly. Not to speak of its known fertilizing quality as to fields, consider it in one of its minor lights. Pray, did you ever hear of a 'Poor Man's Egg'?"

"Never. What is that, now?"

"Why, in making some culinary preparations of meal and flour, where eggs are recommended in the receipt-book, a substitute for the eggs may be had in a cup of cold rain-water, which acts as leaven. And so a cup of cold rainwater thus used is called by housewives a 'Poor Man's Egg.' And many rich men's housekeepers sometimes use it."

"But only when they are out of hen's eggs, I presume, dear Blandmour. But your talk is —I sincerely say it—most agreeable to me. Talk on."

"Then there's 'Poor Man's Plaster' for wounds and other bodily harms ; an alleviative and curative, compounded of simple, natural things ; and so, being very cheap, is accessible to the poorest sufferers. Rich men often use 'Poor Man's Plaster'."

"But not without the judicious advice of a fee'd physician, dear Blandmour."

"Doubtless, they first consult the physician ; but that may be an unnecessary precaution."

"Perhaps so. I do not gainsay it. Go on."

"Well, then, did you ever eat of a 'Poor Man's Pudding'?"

"I never so much as heard of it before."

"Indeed! Well, now you shall eat of one; and you shall eat it, too, as made, unprompted, by a poor man's wife, and you shall eat it at a poor man's table, and in a poor man's house. Come now, and if after this eating, you do not say that a 'Poor Man's Pudding' is as relishable as a rich man's, I will give up the point altogether ; which briefly is : that, through kind Nature, the poor, out of their very poverty, extract comfort."

Not to narrate any more of our conversations upon this subject (for we had several—I being at that time the guest of Blandmour in the country, for the benefit of my health), suffice it that acting upon Blandmour's hint, I introduced myself into Coulter's house on a wet Monday noon (for the snow had thawed) , under the innocent pretense of craving a pedestrian's rest and refreshment for an hour or two.

I was greeted, not without much embarrassment—owing, I suppose to my dress—but still with unaffected and honest kindness. Dame Coulter was just leaving the wash-tub to get ready her one o'clock meal against her good man's return from a deep wood about a mile distant among the hills, where he was chopping by day's work—seventy-five cents per day and found himself. The washing being done outside the main building, under an infirm-looking old shed, the dame stood upon a half-rotten soaked board to protect her feet, as well as might be, from the penetrating damp of the bare ground ; hence she looked pale and chill. But her paleness had still another and more secret cause— the paleness of a mother to be. A quiet, fathomless heart-trouble, too, couched beneath the mild, resigned blue of her soft and wife-like eye. But she smiled upon me, as apologizing for the unavoidable disorder of a Monday and a washing-day, and, conducting me into the kitchen, set me down in the best seat it had—an old-fashioned chair of an enfeebled constitution.

I thanked her; and sat rubbing my hands before the ineffectual low fire, and—unobservantly as I could—glancing now and then about the room, while the good woman, throwing on more sticks said she was sorry the room was no warmer. Something more she said, too—not repiningly, however—of the fuel, as old and damp; picked-up sticks in Squire Teamster's forest, where her husband was chopping the sappy logs of the living tree for the Squire's fires. It needed not her remark, whatever it was, to convince me of the inferior quality of the sticks; some being quite mossy and toad-stooled with long lying bedded among the accumulated dead leaves of many autumns. They made a sad hissing, and vain spluttering enough.

"You must rest yourself here till dinnertime, at least," said the dame; "what I have you are heartily welcome to."

I thanked her again, and begged her not to heed my presence in the least, but go on with her usual affairs.

I was struck by the aspect of the room. The house was old, and constitutionally damp. The window-sills had beads of exuded dampness upon them. The shriveled sashes shook in their frames, and the green panes of glass were clouded with the long thaw. On some little errand the dame passed into an adjoining chamber, leaving the door partly open. The floor of that room was carpetless, as the kitchen's was. Nothing but bare necessaries were about me ; and those not of the best sort. Not a print on the wall but an old volume of Doddridge lay on the smoked chimney-shelf.

"You must have walked a long way, sir; you sigh so with weariness."

"No, I am not nigh so weary as yourself, I dare say."

"Oh, but I am accustomed to that; you are not, I should think," and her soft, sad blue eye ran over my dress. "But I must sweep these shavings away; husband made him a new ax-helve this morning before sunrise, and I have been so busy washing, that I have had no time to clear up. But now they are just the thing I want for the fire. They'd be much better though, were they not so green."

Now if Blandmour were here, thought I to myself, he would call those green shavings "Poor Man's Matches," or "Poor Man's Tinder," or some pleasant name of that sort.

"I do not know," said the good woman, turning round to me again—as she stirred among her pots on the smoky fire—"I do not know how you will like our pudding. It is only rice, milk, and salt boiled together."

"Ah, what they call 'Poor Man's Pudding,' I suppose you mean?"

A quick flush, half resentful, passed over her face.

"We do not call it so, sir," she said, and was silent.

Upbraiding myself for my inadvertence, I could not but again think to myself what Blandmour would have said, had he heard those words and seen that flush.

At last a slow, heavy footfall was heard; then a scraping at the door, and another voice said, "Come, wife; come, come—I must be back again in a jif—if you say I must take all my meals at home, you must be speedy; because the Squire—Good-day, sir," he exclaimed, now first catching sight of me as he entered the room. He turned toward his wife, inquiringly, and stood stock-still, while the moisture oozed from his patched boots to the floor.

"This gentleman stops here awhile to rest and refresh: he will take dinner with us, too. All will be ready now in a trice : so sit down on the bench, husband, and be patient, I pray. You see, sir," she continued, turning to me, "William there wants, of mornings, to carry a cold meal into the woods with him, to save the long one-o'clock walk across the fields to and fro. But I won't let him. A warm dinner is more than pay for the long walk."

"I don't know about that," said William, shaking his head. "I have often debated in my mind whether it really paid. There's not much odds, either way, between a wet walk after hard work, and a wet dinner before it. But I like to oblige a good wife like Martha. And you know, sir, that women will have their whimseys."

"I wish they all had as kind whimseys as your wife has," said I.

"Well, I've heard that some women ain't all maple-sugar; but, content with dear Martha, I don't know much about others."

"You find rare wisdom in the woods," mused I.

"Now, husband, if you ain't too tired, just lend a hand to draw the table out."

"Nay," said I; "let him rest, and let me help."

"No," said William, rising.

"Sit still," said his wife to me.

The table set, in due time we all found ourselves with plates before us.

"You see what we have," said Coulter—"salt pork, rye-bread, and pudding. Let me help you. I got this pork of the Squire; some of his last year's pork, which he let me have on account. It isn't quite as sweet as this year's would be ; but I find it hearty enough to work on, and that's all I eat for. Only let the rheumatiz and other sicknesses keep clear of me, and I ask no flavors or favors from any. But you don't eat of the pork!"

"I see," said the wife, gently and gravely, "that the gentleman knows the difference between this year's and last year's pork. But perhaps he will like the pudding."

I summoned up all my self-control, and smilingly assented to the proposition of the pudding, without by my looks casting any reflections upon the pork. But, to tell the truth, it was quite impossible for me (not being ravenous, but only a little hungry at that time) to eat of the latter. It had a yellowish crust all round it, and was rather rankish, I thought, to the taste. I observed, too, that the dame did not eat of it, though she suffered some to be put on her plate, and pretended to be busy with it when Coulter looked that way. But she ate of the rye-bread, and so did I.

"Now, then, for the pudding," said Coulter. "Quick, wife; the Squire sits in his sitting-room window, looking far out across the fields. His time-piece is true."

"He don't play the spy on you, does he?" said I.

"Oh, no!—I don't say that. He's a good enough man. He gives me work. But he's particular. Wife, help the gentleman. You see, sir, if I lose the Squire's work, what will become of—" and, with a look for which I honored humanity, with sly significance, he glanced toward his wife; then, a little changing his voice, instantly continued—"that fine horse I am going to buy?"

"I guess," said the dame, with a strange, subdued sort of inefficient pleasantry—"I guess that fine horse you sometimes so merrily dream of will long stay in the Squire's stall. But sometimes his man gives me a Sunday ride."

"A Sunday ride! "said I.

"You see," resumed Coulter, "wife loves to go to church ; but the nighest is four miles off, over yon snowy hills. So she can't walk it ; and I can't carry her in my arms, though I have carried her up-stairs before now. But, as she says, the Squire's man sometimes gives her a lift on the road; and for this cause it is that I speak of a horse I am going to have one of these fine sunny days. And already, before having it, I have christened it 'Martha.' But what am I about? Come, come, wife! The pudding! Help the gentleman, do ! The Squire ! the Squire! think of the Squire! and help round the pudding. There, one—two—three mouthfuls must do me. Good-by, wife, Good-by, sir, I'm off."

And, snatching his soaked hat, the noble Poor Man hurriedly went out into the soak and the mire.

I suppose now, thinks I to myself, that Blandmour would poetically say, He goes to take a Poor Man's saunter.

"You have a fine husband," said I to the woman, as we were now left together.

"William loves me this day as on the wedding-day, sir. Some hasty words, but never a harsh one. I wish I were better and stronger for his sake. And, oh ! sir, both for his sake and mine" (and the soft, blue, beautiful eyes turned into two well-springs), "how I wish little William and Martha lived—it is so lonely- like now. William named after him, and Martha for me."

When a companion's heart of itself overflows, the best one can do is to do nothing. I sat looking down on my as yet untasted pudding.

"You should have seen little William, sir. Such a bright, manly boy, only six years old— cold, cold now!"

Plunging my spoon into the pudding, I forced some into my mouth to stop it.

"And little Martha—Oh! sir, she was the beauty! Bitter, bitter! but needs must be borne!"

The mouthful of pudding now touched my palate, and touched it with a mouldy, briny taste. The rice, I knew, was of that damaged sort sold cheap; and the salt from the last year's pork barrel.

"Ah, sir, if those little ones yet to enter the world were the same little ones which so sadly have left it; returning friends, not strangers, strangers, always strangers! Yet does a mother soon learn to love them ; for certain, sir, they come from where the others have gone. Don't you believe that, sir? Yes, I know all good people must. But, still, still—and I fear it is wicked, and very black-hearted, too—still, strive how I may to cheer me with thinking of little William and Martha in heaven, and with reading Dr. Doddridge there—still, still does dark grief leak in, just like the rain through our roof. I am left so lonesome now ; day after day, all the day long, dear William is gone; and all the damp day long grief drizzles and drizzles down on my soul. But I pray to God to forgive me for this; and for the rest, manage it as well as I may."

Bitter and mouldy is the "Poor Man's Pudding," groaned I to myself, half choked with but one little mouthful of it, which would hardly go down.

I could stay no longer to hear of sorrows for which the sincerest sympathies could give no adequate relief ; of a fond persuasion, to which there could be furnished no further proof than already was had—a persuasion, too, of that sort which much speaking is sure more or less to mar; of causeless self-upbraidings, which no expostulations could have dispelled, I offered no pay for hospitalities gratuitous and honorable as those of a prince. I knew that such offerings would have been more than declined; charity resented.

The native American poor never lose their delicacy or pride ; hence, though unreduced to the physical degradation of the European pauper, they yet suffer more in mind than the poor of any other people in the world. Those peculiar social sensibilities nourished by our peculiar political principles, while they enhance the true dignity of a prosperous American, do but minister to the added wretchedness of the unfortunate ; first, by prohibiting their acceptance of what little random relief charity may offer ; and, second, by furnishing them with the keenest appreciation of the smarting distinction between their ideal of universal equality and their grindstone experience of the practical misery and infamy of poverty—a misery and infamy which is, ever has been, and ever will be, precisely the same in India, England, and America.

Under pretense that my journey called me forthwith, I bade the dame good-by ; shook her cold hand; looked my last into her blue, resigned eye, and went out into the wet. But cheerless as it was, and damp, damp, damp—the heavy atmosphere charged with all sorts of incipiencies—I yet became conscious by the suddenness of the contrast, that the house air I had quitted was laden down with that peculiar deleterious quality, the height of which—insufferable to some visitants—will be found in a poorhouse ward.

This ill-ventilation in winter of the rooms of the poor—a thing, too, so stubbornly persisted in—is usually charged upon them as their disgraceful neglect of the most simple means to health. But the instinct of the poor is wiser than we think. The air which ventilates, likewise cools. And to any shiverer, ill-ventilated warmth is better than well-ventilated cold. Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well-warmed, and well-fed.

"Blandmour," said I that evening, as after tea I sat on his comfortable sofa, before a blazing fire, with one of his two ruddy little children on my knee, "you are not what may rightly be called a rich man; you have a fair competence; no more. Is it not so? Well then, I do not include you, when I say, that if ever a rich man speaks prosperously to me of a Poor Man, I shall set it down as—I won't mention the word."

RICH MAN'S CRUMBS

IN the year 1814, during the summer following my first taste of the "Poor Man's Pudding," a sea-voyage was recommended to me by my physician. The Battle of Waterloo having closed the long drama of Napoleon's wars, many strangers were visiting Europe. I arrived in London at the time the victorious princes were there assembled enjoying the Arabian Nights' hospitalities of a grateful and gorgeous aristocracy, and the courtliest of gentlemen and kings—George the Prince Regent.

I had declined all letters but one to my banker. I wandered about for the best reception an adventurous traveler can have—the reception I mean, which unsolicited chance and accident throw in his venturous way.

But I omit all else to recount one hour's hap under the lead of a very friendly man, whose acquaintance I made in the open street of Cheapside. He wore a uniform, and was some sort of a civic subordinate; I forget exactly what. He was off duty that day. His discourse was chiefly of the noble charities of London. He took me to two or three, and made admiring mention of many more.

"But," said he, as we turned into Cheapside again, "if you are at all curious about such things, let me take you—if it be not too late— to one of the most interesting of all our Lord Mayor's Charities, sir; nay, the charities not only of a Lord Mayor, but, I may truly say, in this one instance, of emperors, regents, and kings. You remember the event of yesterday?"

"That sad fire on the river-side, you mean, unhousing so many of the poor?"

"No. The grand Guildhall Banquet to the princes. Who can forget it? Sir, the dinner was served on nothing but solid silver and gold plate, worth at the least £200,000—that is, 1,000,000 of your dollars; while the mere expenditure of meats, wines, attendance and upholstery, etc., can not be footed under £25,000 —120,000 dollars of your hard cash."

"But, surely, my friend, you do not call that charity—feeding kings at that rate?"

"No. The feast came first yesterday; and the charity after—to-day. How else would you have it, where princes are concerned? But I think we shall be quite in time—come ; here we are at King Street, and down there is Guildhall. Will you go?"

"Gladly, my good friend. Take me where you will. I come but to roam and see."

Avoiding the main entrance of the hall, which was barred, he took me through some private way, and we found ourselves in a rear blind-walled place in the open air. I looked round amazed. The spot was grimy as a backyard in the Five Points. It was packed with a mass of lean, famished, ferocious creatures, struggling and fighting for some mysterious precedency, and all holding soiled blue tickets in their hands.

"There is no other way," said my guide ; "we can only get in with the crowd. Will you try it ? I hope you have not on your drawing-room suit? What do you say? It will be well worth your sight. So noble a charity does not often offer. The one following the annual banquet of Lord Mayor's day—fine a charity as that certainly is—is not to be mentioned with what will be seen to-day. Is it, ay?"

As he spoke, a basement door in the distance was thrown open, and the squalid mass made a rush for the dark vault beyond.

I nodded to my guide, and sideways we joined in with the rest. Ere long we found our retreat cut off by the yelping crowd behind, and I could not but congratulate myself on having a civic, as well as civil guide ; one, too, whose uniform made evident his authority.

It was just the same as if I were pressed by a mob of cannibals on some pagan beach. The beings round me roared with famine. For in this mighty London misery but maddens. In the country it softens. As I gazed on the meagre, murderous pack, I thought of the blue eye of the gentle wife of poor Coulter. Some sort of curved, glittering steel thing (not a sword; I know not what it was), before worn in his belt, was now flourished overhead by my guide, menacing the creatures to forbear offering the stranger violence.

As we drove, slow and wedge-like, into the gloomy vault, the howls of the mass reverberated. I seemed seething in the Pit with the Lost. On and on, through the dark and damp, and then up a stone stairway to a wide portal ; when, diffusing, the pestiferous mob poured in bright day between painted walls and beneath a painted dome. I thought of the anarchic sack of Versailles.

A few moments more and I stood bewildered among the beggars in the famous Guildhall.

Where I stood—where the thronged rabble stood, less than twelve hours before sat His Imperial Majesty, Alexander of Russia; His Royal Majesty, Frederick William, King of Prussia; His Royal Highness, George, Prince Regent of England; His world-renowned Grace, the Duke of Wellington ; with a mob of magnificoes, made up of conquering field marshals, earls, counts, and innumerable other nobles of mark.

The walls swept to and fro, like the foliage of a forest with blazonings of conquerors' flags. Naught outside the hall was visible. No windows were within four-and-twenty feet of the floor. Cut off from all other sights, I was hemmed in by one splendid spectacle—splendid, I mean, everywhere, but as the eye fell toward the floor. That was foul as a hovel's—as a kennel's ; the naked boards being strewed with the smaller and more wasteful fragments of the feast, while the two long parallel lines, up and down the hall, of now unrobed, shabby, dirty pine-tables were piled with less trampled wrecks. The dyed banners were in keeping with the last night's kings : the floor suited the beggars of to-day. The banners looked upon the floor as from his balcony Dives upon Lazarus. A line of liveried men kept back with their staves the impatient jam of the mob, who, otherwise, might have instantaneously converted the Charity into a Pillage. Another body of gowned and gilded officials distributed the broken meats—the cold victuals and crumbs of kings. One after another the beggars held up their dirty blue tickets, and were served with the plundered wreck of a pheasant, or the rim of a pasty—like the detached crown of an old hat—the solids and meats stolen out.

"What a noble charity," whispered my guide. "See that pasty now, snatched by that pale girl ; I dare say the Emperor of Russia ate of that last night."

"Very probably," murmured I ; "it looks as though some omnivorous emperor or other had had a finger in that pie."

"And see yon pheasant too—there—that one—the boy in the torn shirt has it now—look ! The Prince Regent might have dined off that."

The two breasts were gouged ruthlessly out, exposing the bare bones, embellished with the untouched pinions and legs.

"Yes, who knows!" said my guide, "his Royal Highness the Prince Regent might have eaten of that identical pheasant."

"I don't doubt it," murmured I, "he is said to be uncommonly fond of the breast. But where is Napoleon's head in a charger? I should fancy that ought to have been the principal dish."

"You are merry. Sir, even Cossacks are charitable here in Guildhall. Look! the famous Platoff, the Hetman himself—(he was here last night with the rest)—no doubt he thrust a lance into yon pork-pie there. Look ! the old shirtless man has it now. How he licks his chops over it, little thinking of or thanking the good, kind Cossack that left it him! Ah! another —a stouter has grabbed it. It falls ; bless my soul! the dish is quite empty—only a bit of the hacked crust."

"The Cossacks, my friend, are said to be immoderately fond of fat," observed I. "The Hetman was hardly so charitable as you thought."

"A noble charity, upon the whole, for all that. See, even Gog and Magog yonder, at the other end of the hall fairly laugh out their delight at the scene."

"But don't you think, though," hinted I, "that the sculptor, whoever he was, carved the laugh too much into a grin—a sort of sardonical grin?"

"Well, that's as you take it, sir. But see— now I'd wager a guinea the Lord Mayor's lady dipped her golden spoon into yonder golden-hued jelly. See, the jelly-eyed old body has slipped it, in one broad gulp, down his throat."

"Peace to that jelly!" breathed I.

"What a generous, noble, magnanimous charity this is ! unheard of in any country but England, which feeds her very beggars with golden-hued jellies."

"But not three times every day, my friend. And do you really think that jellies are the best sort of relief you can furnish to beggars ? Would not plain beef and bread, with something to do, and be paid for, be better?"

"But plain beef and bread were not eaten here. Emperors, and prince-regents, and kings, and field marshals don't often dine on plain beef and bread. So the leavings are according. Tell me, can you expect that the crumbs of kings can be like the crumbs of squirrels?"

"You! I mean you! stand aside, or else be served and away! Here, take this pasty, and be thankful that you taste of the same dish with her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire. Graceless ragamuffin, do you hear?"

These words were bellowed at me through the din by a red-gowned official nigh the board.

"Surely he does not mean me" said I to my guide; "he has not confounded me with the rest."

"One is known by the company he keeps," smiled my guide. "See! not only stands your hat awry and bunged on your head, but your coat is fouled and torn. Nay," he cried to the red-gown, "this is an unfortunate friend; a simple spectator, I assure you."

"Ah! is that you, old lad?" responded the red-gown, in familiar recognition of my guide —a personal friend as it seemed; "well, convey your friend out forthwith. Mind the grand crash; it will soon be coming; hark! now! away with him!"

Too late. The last dish had been seized. The yet unglutted mob raised a fierce yell, which wafted the banners like a strong gust, and filled the air with a reek as from sewers. They surged against the tables, broke through all barriers, and billowed over the hall—their bare tossed arms like the dashed ribs of a wreck. It seemed to me as if a sudden impotent fury of fell envy possessed them. That one half-hour's peep at the mere remnants of the glories of the Banquets of Kings; the unsatisfying mouthfuls of disemboweled pasties, plundered pheasants, and half-sucked jellies, served to remind them of the intrinsic contempt of the alms. In this sudden mood, or whatever mysterious thing it was that now seized them, these Lazaruses seemed ready to spew up in repentant scorn the contumelious crumbs of Dives.

"This way, this way! stick like a bee to my back," intensely whispered my guide. "My friend there has answered my beck, and thrown open yon private door for us two. Wedge—wedge—in quick, there goes your bunged hat—never stop for your coat-tail—hit that man—strike him down! hold! jam! now! wrench along for your life ! ha! here we breathe freely ; thank God! You faint. Ho!"

"Never mind. This fresh air revives me."

I inhaled a few more breaths of it, and felt ready to proceed.

"And now conduct me, my good friend, by some front passage into Cheapside, forthwith. I must home."

"Not by the sidewalk though. Look at your dress. I must get a hack for you."

"Yes, I suppose so," said I, ruefully eyeing my tatters, and then glancing in envy at the close-buttoned coat and flat cap of my guide, which defied all tumblings and tearings.

"There, now, sir," said the honest fellow, as he put me into the hack, and tucked in me and my rags, "when you get back to your own country, you can say you have witnessed the greatest of all England's noble charities. Of course, you will make reasonable allowances for the unavoidable jam. Good-by. Mind, Jehu"—addressing the driver on the box "this is a gentleman you carry. He is just from the Guildhall Charity, which accounts for his appearance. Go on now. London Tavern, Fleet Street, remember, is the place."

"Now, Heaven in its kind mercy save me from the noble charities of London," sighed I, as that night I lay bruised and battered on my bed; "and Heaven save me equally from the 'Poor Man's Pudding' and the 'Rich Man's Crumbs,' "


text:
Jenkins v. Loewenthal

W. T. Burgess, for plaintiff in error.

Julius Rosenthal and A. M. Pence, for defendants in error.

WAITE, C. J.

title: Jenkins v. Loewenthal


text: Talk:Jenkins v. Loewenthal

title: Talk:Jenkins v. Loewenthal


text:
Jenkins v. Loewenthal/Opinion of the Court

This suit was brought by Robert E. Jenkins, as assignee in bankruptcy of Samuel J. Walker, a bankrupt, to recover certain lands conveyed by the bankrupt to Eli Kinney, on the alleged ground that the conveyances, though absolute on their face, were intended tended as mortgages. Two defenses were interposed among others, one that the defendants, who are the present owners of the property, are innocent purchasers for a valuable consideration, without notice of any outstanding equities in the assignee or the bankrupt; and the other that the suit was not brought within two years after the alleged cause of action accrued to the assignee. Rev. St. § 5057. Either of these defenses, if sustained, bars the action. The second involves a federal question, the other does not. The court in its decree sustained tained them both, and, among other things, found as a fact that the defendants were innocent purchasers for value. As this finding is broad enough to maintain the decree, even though the federal question involved in the other defense was decided wrong, we affirm the decree, without considering that question or expressing any opinion upon it. Murdock v. Memphis, 20 Wall. 590, sustains this practice Affirmed.


text: Talk:Jenkins v. Loewenthal/Opinion of the Court


text:
Dows v. Johnson

H. S. Monroe, for plaintiffs in error.

''Sam. M. Chapman and W. F. Sapp'', for defendant in error.

WAITE, C. J.

title: Dows v. Johnson


text: Talk:Dows v. Johnson

title: Talk:Dows v. Johnson