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The following resolutions present the final phase in a conflict, of more than thirty years duration, between the United States and the State of Pennsylvania over their respective jurisdictions. This conflict grew out of the appeal of Gideon Olmstead from the judgment of the Pennsylvania Court of Admiralty, in regard to the distribution of the prize money in the case of the sloop "Active," in 1778, to the Committee of Appeals of Congress. This Committee reversed the decision, but their jurisdiction was denied by the Legislature and the other State authorities, and the enforcement of the decree was successfully withstood by the State until 1808. In that year the dispute was revived by the application of the Attorney General to the Supreme Court, in behalf of Olmstead, for a writ of mandamus commanding Judge Peters of the District Court to enforce the judgment previously given (1779). The application was granted by Chief Justice Marshall, February 23, 1809, in one of his most characteristic and important opinions, in which he solemnly declared, "If the legislatures of the several States may, at will, annul the judgments of the Courts of the United States, and destroy the rights acquired under those judgments, the constitution itself becomes a solemn mockery; and the nation is deprived of the means of enforcing its laws by the instrumentality of its own tribunals." (U. S. v. Peters, 5 Cranch, 136.) Judge Peters issued the writ, but the attempt of the United States Marshal to serve it was resisted by a brigade of the State militia, under the command of General Bright, which had been called out by Governor Snyder, February 27, 1809. The Marshal thereupon summoned a posse-comitatus of two thousand men, but in order to avoid bloodshed, fixed the day for the service of the warrant to three weeks ahead. In the mean time


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2 the Governor's appeal to President Madison to intervene was firmly declined. The Legislature, however, in justification of the action of the State, adopted an elaborate state rights report and the subjoined resolutions. The doctrines underlying these resolutions had been maintained by the Courts of the State in the opinions of Chief Justice McKean in 1792 in the case of Ross et al. v. Rittenhouse (2 Dallas, 160), a case growing out of the Olmstead case, and in 1798 in the case of Res Publica v. Cobbett (3 Dallas, 473, 474). When these resolutions were presented to Congress, June 9, 1809, the House of Representatives refused to print them by vote of 63 to 50. (Annals, 258–260.) For the action of the States on this proposal, see No. 24. The Legislature, however, at the same time, opened a way for retreat by placing at the disposal of the Governor a sum of money, equal to that in dispute, to be used as "might appear advisable and proper." On the 15th of April, the Marshal, eluding the vigilance of the militia, succeeded in executing his process, and two days later Chief Justice Tilghman, of the State Supreme Court, after presenting a forcible exposition of the rights of the State and of the United States (Brightly's Reports, Penna., 14, 15; Amer. Reg. 1809, 171), issued the writ of habeas corpus, and the sum in dispute was finally turned over by the State authorities. Subsequently General Bright and others were tried for obstructing the process of the United States District Court in the Circuit Court, and were finally convicted and sentenced to fine and imprisonment, but were pardoned by the President on the ground that "they had acted under a mistaken sense of duty." A Committee of the State Senate, March 3, 1810, reported in favor of a bill donating a tract of two hundred acres of land to each of the condemned, "in consideration of their services and sufferings," but the measure failed. (Journal of the Senate of Penna. (1809–10), 382).

References: Sources. For message of Gov. Snyder, Report of the Committee and Resolutions, cf. Journal of the Senate of Penna., 1808–09, 268, 269, 295–307; Journal of the House, 615–629, 692–697, 786–798; Resolutions and correspondence given in Annals of Cong., II Cong., 2 Sess., Pt. II, 2253–2269; Resolutions in Pamphlet Laws of Penna., 1808–09, 200; ''Amer. State Papers, Misc. II, 2–7; Annual Register, 1809, 150–175, 168–174; Niles' Register, XLIII, Sup.'' 24. Two contemporary pamphlets: The whole Proceedings in the Case of Olmstead v. Rittenhouse, by Richard Peters, Jr. (Phila., 1809); The Trial of General Bright in the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of Pennsylvania. (Phila., 1809.) General accounts: H. L. Carson in Penna. Mag. XVI, 385–393; also in The Green Bag, VII, 17; Hildreth, VI, 155–164; McMaster, V, 403–406. Early history of the case set forth in U. S. v. Peters, 5 Cranch, 115. Davis in 131 ''U. S. Reports, Appx. XXIX–XXXIV; Jameson in Essays in Const. History'', 17–23.

 * And whereas the causes and reasons which have produced this conflict between the general and state government

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


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47] should be made known, not only that the state may be justified to her sister states, who are equally interested in the preservation of the state rights; but to evince to the Government of the United States that the Legislature, in resisting encroachments on their rights, are not acting in a spirit of hostility to the legitimate powers of the United States' courts; but are actuated by a disposition to compromise, and to guard against future collisions of power, by an amendment to the constitution: and that, whilst they are contending for the rights of the State, that it will be attributed to a desire of preserving the federal government itself, the best features of which must depend upon keeping up a just balance between the general and state governments, as guaranteed by the constitution.

Be it therefore known, that the present unhappy dispute has arisen out of the following circumstances: [Here follows a detailed statement of their view of the case.]

Although the Legislature reverence the constitution of the United States and its lawful authorities, yet there is a respect due to the solemn and public acts, and to the honor and dignity of our own state, and the unvarying assertion of her right, for a period of thirty years, which right ought not to be relinquished, Therefore,

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, &c. That, as a member of the Federal Union, the Legislature of Pennsylvania acknowledges the supremacy, and will cheerfully submit to the authority of the general government, as far as that authority is delegated by the constitution of the United States. But, whilst they yield to this authority, when exercised within Constitutional limits, they trust they will not be considered as acting hostile to the General Government, when, as guardians of the State rights, they can not permit an infringement of those rights, by an unconstitutional exercise of power in the United States' courts.

Resolved, That in a government like that of the United States, where there are powers granted to the general government, and rights reserved to the states, it is impossible, from the imperfections of language, so to define the limits of each, that difficulties should not some times arise from a collision of powers: and it is to be lamented, that no provision is made in the constitution for


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4 determining disputes between the general and state governments by an impartial tribunal, when such cases occur.

Resolved, That from the construction the United States' courts give to their powers, the harmony of the states, if they resist encroachments on their rights, will frequently be interrupted; and if to prevent this evil, they should, on all occasions yield to stretches of power, the reserved rights of the States will depend on the arbitrary power of the courts.

Resolved, That, should the independence of the states, as secured by the constitution, be destroyed, the liberties of the people in so extensive a country cannot long survive. To suffer the United States' courts to decide on will, from a bias in favor of power, necessarily destroy the  of our Government: And whenever the government of the United States becomes consolidated, we may learn from the history of nations what will be the event.

To prevent the balance between the general and state governments from being destroyed, and the harmony of the States from being interrupted,

Resolved, That our Senators in Congress be instructed, and our Representatives requested, to use their influence to procure an amendment to the Constitution of the United States, that an impartial tribunal may be established to determine disputes between the general and state governments; and, that they be further instructed to use their endeavors, that in the meanwhile, such arrangements may be made, between the government of the Union and of this State, as will put an end to existing difficulties.

Resolved, That the Governor be requested to transmit a copy of these resolutions, to the Executive of the United States, to be laid before Congress, at their next session. And that he be authorized and directed to correspond with the President on the subject in controversy, and to agree to such arrangements as may be in the power of the executive to make, or that Congress may make, either by the appointment of commissioners or otherwise, for settling the difficulties between the two governments.

And, That the Governor be also requested to transmit a copy to the Executives of the several States in the Union, with a request, that they may be laid before their respective Legislatures. [Pamphlet Laws of Pennsylvania, 1808–09, 200.]


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49]

The committee, to whom was referred the communication of the governor of Pennsylvania, covering certain resolutions of the legislature of that state, proposing an amendment to the constitution of the United States, by the appointment of an impartial tribunal to decide disputes between the state and federal judiciary, have had the same under their consideration, and are of opinion that a tribunal is already provided by the constitution of the United States, to wit: the Supreme Court, more eminently qualified from their habits and duties, from the mode of their selection, and from the tenure of their offices, to decide the disputes aforesaid in an enlightened and impartial manner, than any other tribunal which could be erected.

The members of the Supreme Court are selected from those in the United States who are most celebrated for virtue and legal learning; not at the will of a singalsingle [sic] individual, but by the concurrent wishes of the President and Senate of the United States, they will therefore have no local prejudices and partialities.

The duties they have to perform lead them necessarily to the most enlarged and accurate acquaintance with the jurisdiction of the federal and several state courts together, and with the admirable symmetry of our government.

The tenure of their offices enables them to pronounce the sound and correct opinions they may have formed, without fear, favor, or partiality.

The amendment to the constitution proposed by Pennsylvania seems to be founded upon the idea that the federal judiciary will,


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6 from a lust of power, enlarge their jurisdiction to the total annihilation of the jurisdiction of the state courts, that they will exercise their will instead of the law and the constitution. This argument, if it proves anything, would operate more strongly against the tribunal proposed to be created which promises so little, than against the Supreme Court, which for reasons given before had every thing connected with their appointment calculated to ensure confidence. What security have we, were the proposed amendments adopted, that this tribunal would not substitute their will and their pleasure in the place of law?

The judiciary are the weakest of the three departments of government, and least dangerous to the political rights of the constitution; they hold neither the purse nor the sword, and even to enforce their own judgments and decrees, must ultimately depend upon the executive arm. Should the federal judiciary, however, unmindful of their weakness, unmindful of the duty which they owe to themselves and their country, become corrupt, and transcend the limits of their jurisdiction, would the proposed amendment oppose even a probable barrier in such an improbable state of things? The creation of a tribunal, such as is proposed by Pennsylvania, so far as we are enabled to form an idea of it from a description given in the resolutions of the legislature of that state, would, in the opinion of your committee, tend rather to invite than prevent a collision between the federal and state courts. It might also become, in process of time, a serious and dangerous embarrassment to the operations of the general government.

Resolved therefore, That the legislature of this state do disapprove of the amendment to the constitution of the United States, proposed by the legislature of Pennsylvania.

Resolved also, That his excellency the governor be, and is hereby requested, to transmit forthwith a copy of the foregoing preamble and resolutions, to each of the senators and representatives of this state in Congress, and to the executive of the several states in the Union, with a request that the same may be laid before the legislatures thereof.

[Acts of General Assembly of Virginia, 1809–10, 102, 103.]


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51]

 * From this view of the subject, the committee are of opinion, that the constitution of the United States, has been violated by the decision of the judge, and the constitutional rights of the state invaded. The question then occurs, in what manner is a state to defend her rights against such invasion? It has already been observed, that the constitution of the United States guarantees to each state a republican form of government; that the powers not delegated to the United States, are reserved to the states respectively without entering into a detail of the rights reserved or not delegated, suffice it to say, that "the right of acquiring, possessing and protecting property is one." If this be not one of the powers not delegated, then indeed a state is in a worse and more degraded situation than the most obscure individual, whose property cannot be taken from him when fairly acquired, without his consent, even for publick use, without a compensation. In the case before us, all the constituted authorities of the state, have uniformly asserted their rights, and protested against every attempt to infringe them.


text:
User talk:204.38.47.182

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text:
Page:State Documents on Federal Relations.djvu/66

8 It may be asked, who is to decide the question? If it be alledged the state has not the right, it may justly be replied, the power invading it, has not. It is a case unprovided for in the constitution, and there is no common umpire. *** Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives, That after most solemnly declaring their readiness, cheerfully to submit to all legal and constitutional decisions of the federal courts, they cannot but express their highest disapprobation of what they conceive to be the illegal and unconstitutional conduct of the same in the case of Gideon Olmstead. (59 yeas to 33 nays.)

Resolved, That the sovereignty and independence of the states, as guaranteed by the constitution of the United States, ought to be most zealously guarded, and every attempt to depreciate the value of those rights, and to consolidate these states into one general government, is hostile to the liberty and happiness of the people, and merits our most decided disapprobation. (88 to 2.)

Resolved, That the governor was justified in the efforts which he made to sustain the rights and sovereignty of the state, and the promptitude and fidelity with which he executed his legal and constitutional powers, under the act of April second, one thousand eight hundred and three, merits our highest approbation. (60 to 33.)

Resolved, That we highly approve of the conduct of our predecessors, in requesting the members of both houses of congress to use their best endeavours to have the constitution of the United States so amended, that an impartial tribunal be appointed to determine disputes between the general and state governments.

Resolved, That the governor be requested to transmit a copy of these resolutions, together with the foregoing statement, to each of the senators and representatives in congress from this state.

The attempt to secure the renewal of the charter of the United States Bank in 1811, called out resolutions in opposition from the legislatures of Pennsylvania and Virginia. The following resolutions of the General Assembly of Pennsylvania are of especial interest in view of the state rights doctrines asserted in the Preamble. As first passed by the House the language of the


text: State Documents on Federal Relations/23

title: State Documents on Federal Relations/23


text: State Documents on Federal Relations/24

title: State Documents on Federal Relations/24


text: State Documents on Federal Relations/25

title: State Documents on Federal Relations/25


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Page:State Documents on Federal Relations.djvu/67

53] Preamble was even stronger, and closely followed the text of the first resolve of the Kentucky Resolutions of 1798, but it was amended by the Senate by a vote of 20 to 8 and agreed to by the House in the form given below.

References: Text given in Pamphlet Laws of Penna., 1810–11, 268, 269, also in ''Amer. State Papers, Finance'', II, 467. Text as passed by the House with action of the Senate, Senate Journal of Penna., 1810–11, 92, 93, 104, 105. McMaster, III, 386–389; Adams, V, 207, 328–337; Schouler, II, 316.

The people of the United States by the adoption of the federal constitution established a general government for special purposes, reserving to themselyesthemselves [sic] respectively, the rights and authorities not delegated in that instrument. To the compact thereby created, each state acceded in its character as a state, and is a party. The act of union thus entered into being to all intents and purposes a treaty between sovereign states, the general government by this treaty was not constituted the exclusive or final judge of the powers it was to exercise; for if it were so to judge then its judgment and not the constitution would be the measure of its authority.

Should the general government in any of its departments violate the provisions of the constitution, it rests with the states, and with the people, to apply suitable remedies.

With these impressions, the legislature of Pennsylvania, ever solicitious to secure an administration of the federal and state governments, conformably to the true spirit of their respective constitutions, feel it their duty to express their sentiments upon an important subject now before congress, viz., the continuance or establishment of a bank. From a careful review of the powers vested in the general government, they have the most positive conviction that the authority to grant charters of incorporation, within the jurisdiction of any state without the consent thereof is not recognized in that instrument, either expressly, or by a warrantable implication; Therefore,

Resolved, By the Senate and House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, in General Assembly met, That the senators of this state in the senate of the United States, be, and they are hereby instructed, and the representatives of this state in the house of representatives of the United States be, and they hereby are requested to use every exertion in their power, to prevent the charter of the bank of the United States from being renewed, or any other bank from being chartered by Congress,


text:
London Town (Masefield)

Oh London Town's a fine town, and London sights are rare, And London ale is right ale, and brisk's the London air, And busily goes the world there, but crafty grows the mind, And London Town of all towns I'm glad to leave behind.

Then hey for croft and hop-yard, and hill, and field, and pond, With Bredon Hill before me and Malvern Hill beyond. The hawthorn white i' the hedgerow, and all the spring's attire In the comely land of Teme and Lugg, and Clent, and Clee, and Wyre.

Oh London girls are brave girls, in silk and cloth o' gold, And London shops are rare shops, where gallant things are sold, And bonnily clinks the gold there, but drowsily blinks the eye, And London Town of all towns I'm glad to hurry by.

Then, hey for covert and woodland, and ash and elm and oak, Tewkesbury inns, and Malvern roofs, and Worcester chimney smoke, The apple trees in the orchard, the cattle in the byre, And all the land from Ludlow town to Bredon church's spire.

Oh London tunes are new tunes, and London books are wise, And London plays are rare plays, and fine to country eyes, Wretchedly fare the most there, and happily fare the few, And London Town of all towns I'm glad to hurry through.

So hey for the road, the west road, by mill and forge and fold, Scent of the fern and song of the lark by brook, and field, and wold, To the comely folk at the hearth-stone and the talk beside the fire, In the hearty land, where I was bred, my land of heart’s desire.

title: London Town (Masefield)


text: State Documents on Federal Relations/26

title: State Documents on Federal Relations/26


text: State Documents on Federal Relations/27

title: State Documents on Federal Relations/27


text:
Author:Mary MacLeod Banks

Works

 * Stories from the Faerie Queene (1901)
 * The Shakespeare Story-book (1902)

title: Author:Mary MacLeod Banks


text:
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text:
1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Leo (popes)

 * Sections
 * /Leo I
 * /Leo II
 * /Leo III
 * /Leo IV
 * /Leo V–VII
 * /Leo VIII
 * /Leo IX
 * /Leo X
 * /Leo XI
 * /Leo XII
 * /Leo XIII


text:
Page:Lectures on Modern History.djvu/382

 Philip II.— Annexes Portugal, 58, 145, 166; policy, 129; inquisition in the Netherlands, 144-5; preparation for the Armada, 153; refuses Elizabeth's terms, 154; and the League, 165-6; death of, 170

Philip IV.— Infanta married to Lewis XIV., 235; will regulating succession, 238, 249, 250, 251

Philip V.— Acknowledged by England, 255; position during the war, 259-60; results of the Succession War, 262; desire to regain Gibraltar, 273

Philip, the Landgrave, and Luther, 105

Philippines, annexation to Spain, 66

Philippson, cited, 161

Piccolomini, made field-marshal, 192

Piccolomini, Æneas Sylvius. See Pius II., Pope

Piedmont, social question, 303

Pilsen, Wallenstein at, 192, 193

Pirkheimer, death of, 105

Pisa, Council at, 46

Pitt (the Elder). See Chatham, Earl of

Pitt, William, Napoleon's Spanish check predicted by, 23

Pius II., Pope (Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini), 77; attitude towards the Renaissance, 79; History, 80

Pius IV., Pope, closes Council of Trent, 122

Pius V., Counter-Reformation under, 122; and the Regent Catharine, 157

Pizarro, Francisco, conquests of, 69-70

Platina, History of the Popes, 80

Plato, 75, 76, 80

Plutarch, Pericles, 16

Plymouth, Duke of, death of, 215

Pocock, 15

Poggio, 80

Poland— Jesuits in, 115; Socinian Church in, 123; Counter-Reformation in, 124; Henry of Anjou elected king, 161; religious toleration in, 182; peace with Gustavus of Sweden, 188; aid for Austria, 243; overrun by Charles XII., 281; aristocracy and right of veto, 301; partition of, 279, 301-2

Pole, Cardinal, 72— Paul III. and, 109; and Justification, 110; at Council of Trent, 118-19; and the English heretics, 119; and Machiavelli, 142

Politian, 80

Politics— Relation to History, 2-3, 9-10; of the Renaissance, 80-81; ethics and, 173

Politiques, the, 172; origin, 163-4; principles, 171

Polo, Marco, 53

Polygamy, preached by Luther, 105

Pomerania, alliance with Gustavus, 188

Pompadour, Mme. de, 293

Pomponne, Minister to Lewis XIV., 241-2

Poniatowski, Stanislas, 301

Port Mahon, conquest of, 262

Port Royal, suppression of, 115

Portocarrero, Cardinal, and will of Charles II., 252

Portugal— Expansive policy, 37, 52-70; early trade with India, 56, 58; annexed to Spain, 58, 145, 166; Inquisition in, 59, 121; treatment of pagans, 59; Brazil obtained, 64; treaty of Tordesillas, 64

Pragmatic Sanction, the, 291

Prague— Window outrage at, 183-4, 198; army of the League at, 185; Lutheran peace at, 193; victory of Frederic II. at, 296

Presbyterians— And the Civil war, 203; under the Restoration, 204, 209; excluded from the Long Parliament, 207

Press, liberty of the, 219, 276

Preston, Scots surrender at, 269

Pride, Colonel, 204

Prierias, Silvester, defence of Indulgences, 92-3

Printing, inveutioninvention [sic] of, 83

Prisons, reformation of, 303

Privileged altars, 91

Privy Council, the, 264

Procopovitch, religious changes made by, 284

Protection, 230

Protestantism. (See also Calvinism and Lutheranism)— Origin of name, 106; Jesuits fight against, 115; Council of Trent and, 118-19; disappearance from Italy, 122-3; the League, 126; strength in France, 156, 172; suppression in Bohemia, 185; and the Edict of Restitution, 187-8; results of the Thirty Years' War on, 193-4; suppressed in France, 221, 223; effect of the Revocation on, 247

Prussia. (See also Frederic the Great)— Rise of, 285-9; first king of, 287; under Frederic William I, 288-9


text:
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text: Essays, civil and moral (Harvard Classics)/Of Studies


text:
User talk:76.106.93.189

Please do not add advertising or inappropriate external links to Wikisource. Wikisource should not be used for advertising or promotion. Inappropriate links include (but are not limited to) links to personal web sites, links to web sites with which you are affiliated, and links that exist to attract visitors to a web site or promote a product. Read what Wikisource includes for further explanations of what is considered appropriate. If you feel the link should be added to the text, then please discuss it on the rather than re-adding it, as doing so may result in yourself being blocked. See the Community Portal to learn more about Wikisource. Thank you. —Spangineer (háblame) 23:19, 11 January 2011 (UTC)

title: User talk:76.106.93.189


text:
Author:Charles Hall Grandgent

Works

 * "Dante" in The Harvard Classics; Lectures on The Harvard Classics, Volume 51  (1914)

title: Author:Charles Hall Grandgent


text:
Page:1880. A Tramp Abroad.djvu/88

 I have had a good deal to do with duels on the Pacific coast, but I see now that they were crude affairs. A hearse,—sho! we used to leave the elected lying around loose, and let anybody cord them up and cart them off that wanted to. Have you anything further to suggest?"

"Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride together, as is usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on foot, as is also usual. I will see you at eight o'clock in the morning, and we will then arrange the order of the procession. I have the honor to bid you a good day."

I returned to my client, who said, "Very well; at what hour is the engagement to begin?"

"Half past nine."

"Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the newspapers?"

"Sir! If after our long and intimate friendship you can for a moment deem me capable of so base a treachery"—

"Tut, tut! What words are these, my dear friend? Have I wounded you? Ah, forgive me; I am overloading you with labor. Therefore go on with the other details, and drop this one from your list. The bloody-minded Fourton will be sure, to attend to it. Or I myself—yes, to make certain, I will drop a note to my journalistic friend, M. Noir"—

"Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble; that other second has informed M. Noir."

"H'm! I might have known it. It is just like that Fourtou, who always wants to make a display."

At half past nine in the morning the procession approached the field of Plessis-Piquet in the following order: first came our carriage,—nobody in it but M. Gambetta and myself; then a carriage containing M. Fourtou and his second; then a carriage containing two poet-orators who did not believe in God, and these had MS. funeral orations projecting from their breast pockets; then a carriage containing the head surgeons and their cases of instruments; then eight private carriages containing consulting surgeons; then a hack

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 We stopped at the very same inn which the famous old robber knight and rough fighter, Götz von Berlichingen, abode in after he got out of captivity in the Square Tower of Heilbronn between three hundred and fifty and four hundred years ago. Harris and I occupied the same room which he had occupied and the same paper had not all peeled off the walls yet. The furniture was quaint old carved stuff, full four hundred years old, and some of the smells were over a thousand. There was a hook in the wall, which the landlord said the terrific old Götz used to hang his iron hand on when he took it off to go to bed. This room was very large,—it might be called immense,—and it was on the first floor; which means it was in the second story, for in Europe the houses are so high that they do not count the first story, else they would get tired climbing before they got to the top. The wall paper was a fiery red, with huge gold figures in it, well smirched by time, and it covered all the doors. These doors fitted so snugly and continued the figures of the paper so unbrokenly, that when they were closed one had to go feeling and searching along the wall to find them. There was a stove in the corner,—one of those tall, square, stately white porcelain things that looks like a monument and keeps you thinking of death when you ought to be enjoying your travels. The windows looked out on a little alley, and over that into a stable and some poultry and pig yards in the rear of some tenement houses. There were the customary two beds in the room, one in one end of it, the other in the other, about an old-fashioned brass-mounted, single-barreled pistol-shot apart. They were fully as narrow as the usual German bed, too, and had the German bed's ineradicable habit of spilling the blankets on the floor every time you forgot yourself and went to sleep.

A round-table as large as King Arthur's stood in the centre of the room; while the waiters were getting ready to serve our dinner on it we all went out to see the renowned clock on the front of the municipal buildings.

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Page:1880. A Tramp Abroad.djvu/70

 Both parties to this fourth duel were badly hurt; so much so that the surgeon was at work upon them nearly or quite an hour,—a fact which is suggestive. But this waiting interval was not wasted in idleness by the assembled students. It was past noon; therefore they ordered their landlord, down stairs, to send up hot beefsteaks, chickens, and such things, and these they ate, sitting comfortably at the several tables, whilst they chatted, disputed and laughed. The door to the surgeon's room stood open, meantime, but the cutting, sewing, splicing and bandaging going on in there in plain view, did not seem to disturb any one's appetite. I went in and saw the surgeon labor a while, but could not enjoy it; it was much less trying, to see the wounds given and received than to see them mended; the stir and turmoil, and the music of the steel, were wanting, here,—one's nerves were wrung by this grisly spectacle, whilst the duel's compensating pleasurable thrill was lacking.

Finally the doctor finished, and the men who were to fight the closing battle of the day came forth. A good many dinners were not completed, yet, but no matter, they could be eaten cold, after the battle; therefore everybody crowded forward to see. This was not a love duel, but a "satisfaction" affair. These two students had quarreled, and were here to settle it. They did not belong to any of the corps, but they were furnished with weapons and armor, and permitted to fight here by the five corps as a courtesy. Evidently these two young men were unfamiliar with the dueling ceremonies, though they were not unfamiliar with the sword. When they were placed in position they thought it was time to begin,—and they did begin, too, and with a most impetuous energy, without waiting for anybody to give the word. This vastly amused the spectators, and even broke down their studied and courtly gravity and surprised them into laughter. Of course the seconds struck up the swords and started the duel over again. At the word, the deluge of blows began, but before long the surgeon once more interfered,—for the only reason which ever permits him to interfere,—and the

title: Page:1880. A Tramp Abroad.djvu/70


text: Author:Murray Anthony Potter

title: Author:Murray Anthony Potter


text: Author talk:Murray Anthony Potter

title: Author talk:Murray Anthony Potter


text:
Author:Charles Edward Carryl

Works

 * Davy and the Goblin
 * The Walloping Window Blind
 * Robinson Crusoe’s Story
 * The Admiral’s Caravan
 * Captain Black

title: Author:Charles Edward Carryl


text:
Davy and the Goblin

Contents

 * Author’s dedication
 * Chapter I. How the Goblin Came
 * Chapter II. The Beginning of the Believing Voyage
 * Chapter III. In the Sugar-Plum Garden
 * Chapter IV. The Butterscotchmen
 * Chapter V. Jack and the Bean-Stalk’s Farm
 * Chapter VI. The Giant Badorful
 * Chapter VII. The Moving Forest
 * Chapter VIII. Sindbad the Sailor’s House
 * Chapter IX. Lay-Overs for Meddlers
 * Chapter X. Ribsy
 * Chapter XI. Robinson Crusoe’s Island
 * Chapter XII. A Whale in a Waistcoat
 * Chapter XIII. The Talking Waves and the Old Sea-Dog
 * Chapter XIV. The End of the Believing Voyage

title: Davy and the Goblin


text:
Free Air/Chapter 5

RELEASE BRAKES-SHIFT TO THIRD

ILT DAGGETT had not been accurate in his implication that he had not noticed Claire at a garage in Schoenstrom. For one thing, he owned the garage.

Milt was the most prosperous young man in the village of Schoenstrom. Neither the village itself nor the nearby Strom is really schoen. The entire business district of Schoenstrom consists of Henie Rauskukle's general store, which is brick; the Leipzig House, which is frame; the Old Home Poolroom and Restaurant, which is of old logs concealed by a frame sheathing; the farm-machinery agency, which is galvanized iron, its roof like an enlarged washboard; the church; the three saloons; and the Red Trail Garage, which is also, according to various signs, the Agency for Tear Car Best at the Test, Stonewall Tire Service Station, Sewing Machines and Binders Repaired, Dr. Hostrum the Veterinarian every Thursday, Gas Today 27c.

The Red Trail Garage is of cement and tapestry brick. In the office is a clean hardwood floor, a type writer, and a picture of Elsie Ferguson. The establishment has an automatic rim-stretcher, a wheel jack, and a reputation for honesty.

The father of Milt Daggett was the Old Doctor, born in Maine, coming to this frontier in the day when Chippewas camped in your dooryard, and came in to help themselves to coffee, which you made of roasted corn. The Old Doctor bucked northwest blizzards, read Dickens and Byron, pulled people through typhoid, and left to Milt his shabby old medicine case and thousands of dollars - in uncollectible accounts. Mrs. Daggett had long since folded her crinkly hands in quiet death.

Milt had covered the first two years of high school by studying with the priest, and been sent to the city of St. Cloud for the last two years. His father had meant to send him to the state university. But Milt had been born to a talent for machinery. At twelve he had made a telephone that worked. At eighteen he was engineer in the tiny flour mill in Schoenstrom. At twenty-five, when Claire Boltwood chose to come tearing through his life in a Gomez-Dep, Milt was the owner, manager, bookkeeper, wrecking crew, ignition expert, thoroughly competent bill-collector, and all but one of the working force of the Red Trail Garage.

There were two factions in Schoenstrom: the retired farmers who said that German was a good enough language for anybody, and that taxes for schools and sidewalks were yes something crazy; and the group who stated that a pig-pen is a fine place, but only for pigs. To this second, revolutionary wing belonged a few of the first generation, most the second, and all of the third; and its leader was Milt Daggett. he did not talk much, normally, but when he thought things ought to be done, he was as annoying as a machine-gun test in the lot next to a Quaker meeting.

If there had been a war, Milt would probably have been in it - rather casual, clearing his throat, reckoning and guessing that maybe his men might try going over and taking that hill... then taking it. But all of this history concerns the year just before American spoke to Germany; and in this town buried among the cornfields and wheat, men still thought more about the price of grain than about the souls of nations.

On the evening before Claire Boltwood left Minneapolis and adventured into democracy, Milt was in the garage. he wore union overalls that were tan where they were not grease-black; a faded blue cotton shirt; and the crown of a derby, with the rim not too neatly hacked off with a dull toad-stabber jack-knife.

Milt smiled at his assistant, Ben Sittka, and suggested, "Well, wie geht's mit the work, eh? Like to stay and get the prof's flivver out, so he can have it in the morning?"

"You bet, boss."

"Getting to be quite a mechanic, Ben."

"I'll say so!"

"If you get stuck, come yank me out of the Old Home."

"Aw rats, boss. I'll finish it.  You beat it." Ben grinned at Milt adoringly.

Milt stripped off his overalls and derby-crown, and washed his big, firm hands with gritty soft soap. He cleaned his nails with a file which he carried in his upper vest pocket in a red imitation morocco case which contained a comb, a mirror, an indelible pencil, and a note-book with the smudged pencil addresses of five girls in St. Cloud, and a memorandum about Rauskukle's car.

He put on a twisted brown tie, an old blue serge suit, and a hat which, being old and shabby, had become graceful. He ambled up the street. He couldn't have ambled more than three blocks and have remained on the street. Schoenstrom tended to leak off into jungles of tall corn.

Two men waved at him, and once demanded, "Say Milt, is whisky good for the toothache? What d' you think!  The doc said it didn't do any good.  But then, gosh, he's only just out of college."

"I guess he's right."

"Is that a fact! Well, I'll keep off it then."

Two stores further on, a bulky farmer hailed, "Say, Milt, should I get an ensilage cutter yet?"

"Yuh," in the manner of a man who knows too much to be cocksure about anything, "I don't know but what I would, Julius."

"I guess I vill then."

Minnie Rauskukle, plump, hearty Minnie, heiress to the general store, gave evidence by bridling and straightening her pigeon-like body that she was aware of Milt behind her. He did not speak to her. He ducked into the door of the Old Home Poolroom and Restaurant.

Milt ranged up to the short lunch counter, in front of the pool table where two brick-necked farm youngsters were furiously slamming balls and attacking cigarettes. Loose-jointedly Milt climbed a loose-jointed high stool and to the proprietor, Bill McGolwey, his best friend, he yawned, "You might poison me with a hamburger and a slab of apple, Mac."

"I'll just do that little thing. Look kind of grouchy tonight, Milt."

"Too much excitement in this burg. Saw three people on the streets all simultaneously to-once."

"What's been eatin' you lately?"

"Me? Nothing.  Only I do get tired of this metropolis.  One of these days I'm going to buck some bigger place."

"Try Gopher Prairie maybe?" suggested Mac, through the hiss and steam of the frying hamburger sandwich.

"Rats. Too small."

"Small? Why, there's darn near five thousand people there!"

"I know, but - I want to tackle some sure-nuff city. Like Duluth or New York."

"But what'd you do?"

"That the devil of it. I don't know just what I do want to do.  I could always land soft in a garage, but that's nothing new.  Might hit Detroit, and learn the motor-factory end."

"Aw, you're the limit, Milt. Always looking for something new."

"That's the way to get on. The rest of this town is afraid of new things. 'Member when I suggested we all chip in on a dynamo with a gas engine and have electric lights?  The hicks almost died of nervousness."

"Yuh, that's true, but - You stick here, Milt.  You and me will just nachly run this burg."

"I'll say! Only - Gosh, Mac, I would like to go to a real show, once.  And find out how radio works.  And see 'em put in a big suspension bridge!"

Milt left the Old Home rather aimlessly. He told himself he positively would not go back and help Ben Sittka get out the prof's car, and drove the same to the prof's. The prof, otherwise professor, otherwise mister, James Martin Jones, B.A., and Mrs. James Martin Jones welcomed him almost as noisily as had Mac. They begged him to come in. With Mr. Jones he discussed-no, ye Claires of Brooklyn Heights, this garage man and this threadbare young superintendent of a paintbare school, talking in a town that was only a common on the line, did not discuss corn-growing, nor did they reckon to guess that by heck the constabule was carryin' on with the Widdy Perkins. They spoke of fish-culture, Elihu Root, the spiritualistic evidences of immortality, government ownership, self-starters for flivvers, and the stories of Irvin Cobb.

Milt went home earlier than he wanted to. Because Mr. Jones was the only man in town besides the priest who read books, because Mrs. Jones was the only woman who laughed about any topics other than children and family sickness, because he wanted to go to their house every night, Milt treasured his welcome as a sacred thing, and kept himself from calling on them more than once a week.

He stopped on his way to the garage to pet Emil Baumschweiger's large gray cat, publicly known as Rags, but to Milt and to the lady herself recognized as the unfortunate Countess Vere de Vere - perhaps the only person of noble ancestry and mysterious past in Milt's acquaintance. The Baumschweigers did not treat their animals well; Emil kicked the may mare, and threw pitchforks at Vere de Vere. Milt saluted her and sympathized:

"You have a punk time, don't you, countess? Like to beat it to Minneapolis with me?"

The countess said that she did indeed have an extraordinary punk time, and she sang to Milt the hymn of the little gods of the warm hearth. Then Milt's evening dissipations were over. Schoenstrom has movies only once a week. He sat in the office of his garage ruffling through a weekly digest of events. Milt read much, though not too easily. He had no desire to be a poet, an Indo-Iranian etymologist, a lecturer to women's clubs, or the secretary of state. But he did rouse to the marvels hinted in books and magazines; to large crowds, the mechanism of submarines, palm trees, gracious women.

He laid down the magazine. he stared at the wall. He thought about nothing. He seemed to be fumbling for something about which he could deliciously think if he could but grasp it. Without quite visualizing either wall or sea, he was yet recalling old dreams of a moonlit wall by a warm stirring southern sea. If there was a girl in the dream she was intangible as the scent of the night. presently he was asleep, a not at all romantic figure, rather ludicrously tipped to one side in his office chair, his large solid shoes up on the desk.

He half woke, and filtered to what he called home - one room in the cottage of an oldish woman who had prejudices against the perilous night air. He was too sleepy to go through any toilet save pulling off his shoes, and achieving an unconvincing wash at the little stand, whose crackly varnish was marked with white rings from the toothbrush mug.

"I feel about due to pull off some fool stunt. Wonder what it will be?" he complained, as he flopped on the bed.

He was up at six, and at a quarter to seven was at work in the garage. He spent a large part of the morning in trying to prove to a customer that even a Teal car, best at the test, would not give perfect service if the customer persisted in forgetting to fill the oil-well, the grease-cups, and the battery.

At three minutes after twelve Milt left the garage to go to dinner. The fog of the morning had turned to rain. McGolwey was not at the Old Home. Sometimes Mac got tired of serving meals, and for a day or two he took to a pocket flask, and among his former customers the cans of prepared meat at Rauskukle's became popular. Milt found him standing under the tin awning of the general store. He had a troubled hope of keeping Mac from too long a vacation with the pocket flask. But Mac was already red-eyed. He seemed only half to recognize Milt.

"Swell day!" said Milt.

"Y' bet."

"Road darn muddy."

"I should worry. Yea, bo', I'm feelin' good!"

At eleven minutes past twelve a Gomez-Dep roadster appeared down the road, stopped at the garage. To Milt it was as exciting as the appearance of a comet to a watching astronomer.

"What kind of car do you call that, Milt?" asked a loafer.

"Gomez-Deperdussin."

"Never heard of it. Looks too heavy."

This was sacrilege. Milt stormed, "Why, you poor loof, it's one of the best cars in the world. Imported from France.  That looks like a special-made American body, though.  Trouble with you fellows is, you're always scared of anything that's new.  Too-heavy! Huh!  Always wanted to see a Gomez - never have, except in pictures.  And I believe that's a New York license.  Let me at it!

He forgot noon-hunger, and clumped through the rain to the garage. he saw a girl step from the car. He stopped, in the doorway of the Old Home, in uneasy shyness. He told himself he didn't "know just what it is about her - she isn't so darn unusually pretty and yet- gee- Certainly isn't a girl to get fresh with.  Let Ben take care of her.  Like to talk to her, and yet I'd be afraid if I opened my mouth, I'd put my foot in it."

He was for the first time seeing a smart woman. This dark, slender, fine-nerved girl, in her plain, rough, closely-belted, gray suit, her small black Glengarry cocked on one side of her smooth hair, her little kid gloves, her veil, was as delicately adjusted as an aeroplane engine.

Milt wanted to trumpet her exquisiteness to world, so he growled to a man standing beside him, "Swell car. Nice-lookin' girl, kind of."

"Kind of skinny, though. I like 'em with some meat of 'em," yawned the man.

No, Milt did not strike him to earth. He insisted feebly, "Nice clothes she's got, though."

"Oh, not so muchamuch. I seen a woman come through here yesterday that was swell, though - had on a purple dress and white shoes and a hat big 's a bushel."

"Well, I don't know, I kind of like those simple things," apologized Milt.

He crept toward the garage. The girl was inside. He inspected the slope-topped, patent-leather motoring trunk on the rack at the rear of the Gomez-Dep. He noticed a middle-aged man waiting in the car. "Must be her father. Probably - maybe she isn't married then,"  He could not get himself to shout at the man, as he usually did. He entered the garage office; from the inner door he peeped at the girl, who was talking to his assistant about changing an inner tube.

That Ben Sittka whom an hour ago he had cajoled as a promising child he now admired for the sniffing calmness with which he was demanding, "Want a red or gray tube?"

"Really, I don't know. Which is the better?" The girl's voice was curiously clear.

Milt passed Claire Boltwood as though he did not see her; stood at the rear of the garage kicking at the tires of a car, his back to her. Over and over he was grumbling, "If I just knew one girl like that - Like a picture. Like- like a silver vase on a blue cloth!"

Ben Sittka did not talk to the girl while he insert the tube in the spare casing. Only, in the triumphant moment when the parted ends of the steel rim snapped back together, he piped, "Going far?"

"Yes, rather. To Seattle."

Milt stared at the cobweb-grayed window. "Now I know what I was planning to do. I'm going to Seattle," he said.

The girl was gone at twenty-nine minutes after twelve. At twenty-nine and a half minutes after, Milt remarked to Ben Sittka, "I'm going to take a trip. Uh?  Now don't ask any questions.  You take charge of the garage until you hear from me.  Get somebody to help you. G'-by."

He drove his Teal bug out of the garage. At thirty-two minutes after twelve he was in his room, packing his wicker suitcase by the method of throwing things in and stamping on the case till it closed. In it he had absolutely all of his toilet refinements and wardrobe except the important portion already in use. They consisted, according to faithful detailed report, of four extra pairs of thick yellow and white cotton socks; two shirts, five collars, five handkerchiefs; a pair of surprisingly vain dancing pumps; high tan laced boots; three suits of cheap cotton underclothes; his Sunday suit, which was dead black in color, and unimaginative in cut; four ties; a fagged toothbrush, a comb and a hairbrush, a razor, a strop, shaving soap in a mug; a not very clean towel; and nothing else whatever.

To this he added his entire library and private picture gallery, consisting of Ivanhoe, Ben-Hur, his father's copy of Byron, a wireless manual, and the 1916 edition of Motor Construction and Repairing: the art collection, one colored Sunday supplement picture of a princess lunching in a Provençe courtyard, and a half-tone of Colonel Paul Beck landing in an early military biplane. Under this last, in a pencil scrawl now blurred to grayness, Milt had once written, "This what Ill be aviator."

What he was to wear was a piercing trouble. Till eleven minutes past twelve that day he had not cared. People accepted his overalls at anything except a dance, and at the dances he was the only one who wore pumps. But in his discovery of Claire Boltwood he had perceived that dressing is an art. Before he had packed, he had unhappily pawed at the prized black suit. It had become stupid. "Undertaker!" he growled.

With a shrug which indicated that he had nothing else, he had exchanged his overalls for a tan flannel shirt, black bow tie, thick pigskin shoes, and the suit he had worn the evening before, his best suit of two years ago - baggy blue serge coat and trousers. He could not know it, but they were surprisingly graceful on his wiry, firm, white body.

In his pockets were a roll of bills and an unexpectedly good gold watch. For warmth he had a winter ulster, an old-fashioned turtle-neck sweater, and a raincoat heavy as tarpaulin. He plunged into the raincoat, ran out, galloped to Rauskukle's store, bought the most vehement cap in the place - a plaid of cerise, orange, emerald green, ultramarine, and five other guaranteed fashionable colors. He stocked up with food for roadside camping.

In the humping tin-covered tail of the bug was a good deal of room, and this he filled with motor extras, a shotgun and shells, a pair of skates, and all his camping kit as use don his annual duck-hunting trip to Man Trap Lake.

"I'm a darned fool to take everything I own but- Might be gone for a whole month," he reflected.

He had only one possession left - a check book, concealed form the interested eye of his too maternal landlady by sticking it under the stair carpet. This he retrieved. It showed a balance of two hundred dollars. There was ten dollars in the cash register in the office, for Ben Sittka. The garage would, with the mortgage deducted, by worth nearly two thousand. This was his fortune.

He bolted into the kitchen and all in one shout he informed his landlady, "Called out of town, li'l trip, b'lieve I don't owe you an'thing, here's six dollars, two weeks' notice, dunno just when I be back."

Before she could issue a questionnaire he was out in the bug. He ran through town. At his friend McGolwey, now loose-lipped and wabbly, sitting in the rain on a pile of ties behind the railroad station, he yelled, "So long, Mac. Take care of yourself, old hoss.  Off on li'l trip."

He stopped in front of the "prof's," tooted till the head of the Joneses appeared at the window, waved and shouted, "G'-by, folks. Goin' outa town."

Then, while freedom and the distant Pacific seemed to rush at him over the hood, he whirled out of town. It was two minutes to one - forty-seven minutes since Claire Boltwood had entered Shoenstrom.

He stopped only once. His friend Lady Vere de Vere was at the edge of town, on a scientific exploring trip in the matter of ethnology and field mice. She hailed him, "Mrwr? Me mrwr!"

"You don't say so!" Milt answered in surprise. "Well, if I promised to take you, I'll keep my word." He vaulted out, tucked Vere de Vere into the seat, protecting her from the rain with the tarpaulin winter radiator-cover.

His rut-skipping car overtook the mud-walloping Gomez-Dep in an hour, and pulled it out fo the mud.

Before Milt slept that night, in his camp three miles from Gopher Prairie, he went through religious rites.

"Girl like her, she's darn particular about her looks. I'm a sloppy hound.  Used to be snappier about my clothes when I was in high school.  Getting lazy - too much like Mac.  Think of me sleeping in my clothes last night!"

"Mrwr!" rebuked the cat.

"You're dead right. Fierce is the word.  Nev' will sleep in my duds again, puss.  That is, when I have a reg'lar human bed.  Course camping, different.  But still - Let's see all the funny things we can do to us."

He shaved - two complete shaves, from lather to towel. He brushed his hair. He sat down by a campfire sheltered between two rocks, and fought his nails though they were discouragingly crammed with motor grease. Throughout this interesting but quite painful ceremony Milt kept up a conversation between himself as the World' Champion Dude, and his cat at Vallay. But when there was nothing more to do, and the fire was low, and Vere de Vere was asleep in the sleeve of the winter ulster, his bumbling voice slackened; in something like agony he muttered:

"But oh, what's the use? I can't ever be anything but a dub!  Cleaning my nails, to make a hit with a girl that's got hands like hers!  It's a long trail to Seattle, but it's a darn sight longer one to being- being- well, sophisticated.  Oh!  And incidentally, what the deuce am I going to do in Seattle if I do get there?"

title: Free Air/Chapter 5


text:
Davy and the Goblin/Author’s dedication

Author’s dedication
To Guy. Dear little Boy, upon these pages find The tangled fancies of thy father’s mind, Born of the hours when thou, a little child, Throned on his knee in breathless rapture smiled, Hearing entranced the marvels that were told Of fay and goblin in the days of old. Would that the glamour of those cloudless days Might cheer thee still, what time the toilsome maze Of riper years hath banished fairy lore— And blithesome youth hath fled to come no more!

title: Davy and the Goblin/Author’s dedication


text:
Page:History of West Australia.djvu/565

N the early days of this colony, while as yet the clouds of impoverishment hung dark and gloomy, pioneers fought hard against starvation and melancholic depression. Sons were born, who had to accustom themselves from the cradle to a rough and primitive mode of life. The training, severe and unwelcome though it may have been, has borne good fruit, for that same progeny has shown itself imbued with many virtues. Thrift and the old aristocratic and chivalrous sentiments of England are exhibited in their conduct.

For years Mr. Locke toiled at the homestead in the Vasse, with little recompense for energy expended, and with little encouragement offered. Yet he, with his relations, stuck bravely to his work, and with willing hands and intrepidity of courage overcame all difficulties in a commendable way. Mr. Locke was born at the Vasse in 1856. His mother was a native of the colony, and his grandfather, G. Layman, arrived with the first veteran bands in 1829. Since his boyhood Mr. Locke has engaged in agricultural pursuits round the Vasse district. His repute as a skilful practical farmer is widely acknowledged, and has been the means of bringing him into great prominence in his native parish. Sporting instincts were keen in Mr. Locke at a very early age. His father from the earliest days had a strong leaning to the turf, and in the sixties owned a larger stud than the son has at the present time. The Queen's Plate was won by Mr. Locke, sen., with Ben Bolt in 1865, and many minor races fell to his lot. On many occasions young Ernest, with a strong passion for riding, took the saddle in the meetings at the Vasse, and was favourably regarded as a coming jockey. It is surprising to hear, when we turn over the dismal financial pages of these days, that the races were as fully represented and called forth as much enthusiasm as they do now. Twenty-one horses started in a race at the Vasse in the sixties, and Ernest rode his father's favourite colt.

Since his introduction to the turf the present member of the Vasse has been singularly fortunate as a sportsman. Hundreds of prizes have been won by him both in this and other colonies, but he has never succeeded in gaining the coveted plum of Westralian race meetings—the Perth Cup. His Primrose brought him enviable fame, and has proved a valuable horse by running victorious in the Railway Stakes and the Coolgardie double. His Miss Boolka has been variously judged, but when it is stated that she won thirty-two races out of thirty-nine starts her performance must be considered exceedingly creditable. Mr. Locke's reputation as a sportsman is meritoriously deserved. His straightforwardness has made him the central attraction of a host of enthusiasts. His love for sport is not begot of some slanting desire for financial aggrandisement; it is an unblended affection. Mr. Locke's latest triumphal achievement was his splendid victory at the elections to the House of Assembly for the Sussex constituency in 1897. It was fair that one who had been the champion of progressive movements in that district for a score of years should receive the support of the electors. His services in the past were fresh in the memory of those who had amply profited from his labours, and now they sought to requite their obligations. He has acted in many public capacities in the Vasse. He was chairman of the Roads Board for a lengthened period, and has fostered the parish football, cricket, and other sporting games. He was a leading spirit in the Agricultural Society for that wide and fertile agricultural district. In deputations Mr. Locke's ability has been frequently applied with success.

After a splendidly-fought battle on the hustings, Mr. Locke was declared elected over his two opponents, Mr. Cookworthy and Mr. Backhouse, by a majority of thirty-nine. The result was hailed with acclamation, and ovations to the new member were as sincere as they were expressive of joy. From the first he was confident, but the opposing candidates possessed strong claims, and pushed their electioneering in a vigorous fashion. That Mr. Locke emerged victorious from the contest is all the more praiseworthy, inasmuch as his opponents were redoubtable political knights. Since his return Mr. Locke has been indefatigable in his endeavours to carry out the best interests of his electors. As an exponent on agricultural principles he is well able to formulate theories of reform for the better development and expansion of this great industry. His opinions are sound, and the Sussex electorate may safely trust its growing interests in the hands of such a representative.

Mr. Locke is a foundation member of Tattersall's Club, and has retained his name prominently on the list since its inception. As a Freemason he was helpful in forming a lodge at Bunbury while he was junior deacon.

Mr. Locke is a man of actions rather than words. Ready to benefit others, and prepared to go to much trouble on their behalf, he has ingratiated himself into the hearts of the community.

title: Page:History of West Australia.djvu/565


text:
Davy and the Goblin/Chapter I

Chapter I. How the Goblin Came. It happened one Christmas eve, when Davy was about eight years old, and this is the way it came about.

That particular Christmas eve was a snowy one and a blowy one, and one generally to be remembered. In the city, where Davy lived, the storm played all manner of pranks, swooping down upon unwary old gentlemen and turning their umbrellas wrong side out, and sometimes blowing their hats quite out of sight; and as for the old ladies who chanced to be out of doors, the wind came upon them suddenly from around corners and blew the snow into their faces and twisted their petticoats about their ankles, and even whirled the old ladies themselves about in a very painful way. And in the country, where Davy had come to pass Christmas with his dear old grandmother, things were not much better; but here people were very wise about the weather, and stayed in-doors, huddled around great blazing wood fires; and the storm, finding no live game, buried up the roads and the fences, and such small fry of houses as could readily be put out of sight, and howled and roared over the fields and through the trees in a fashion not to be forgotten.

Davy, being of the opinion that a snow-storm was a thing not to be wasted, had been out with his sled, trying to have a little fun with the weather; but presently, discovering that this particular storm was not friendly to little boys, he had retreated into the house, and having put his hat and his high shoes and his mittens by the kitchen fire to dry, he began to find his time hang heavily on his hands. He had wandered idly all over the house, and had tried how cold his nose could be made by holding it against the window-panes, and, I am sorry to say, had even been sliding down the balusters and teasing the cat; and at last, as evening was coming on, had curled himself up in the big easy-chair facing the fire, and had begun to read once more about the marvellous things that happened to little Alice in Wonderland. Then, as it grew darker, he laid aside the book and sat watching the blazing logs and listening to the solemn ticking of the high Dutch clock against the wall.

Then there stole in at the door a delicious odor of dinner cooking downstairs,—an odor so promising as to roast chickens and baked potatoes and gravy and pie as to make any little boy’s mouth water; and presently Davy began softly telling himself what he would choose for his dinner. He had quite finished fancying the first part of his feast, and was just coming, in his mind, to an extra large slice of apple-pie well browned (staring meanwhile very hard at one of the brass knobs of the andirons to keep his thoughts from wandering), when he suddenly discovered a little man perched upon that identical knob, and smiling at him with all his might.

This little man was a very curious-looking person indeed. He was only about a foot high, but his head was as big as a cocoanut, and he had great, bulging eyes, like a frog, and a ridiculous turned-up nose. His legs were as slender as spindles, and he had long pointed toes to his shoes, or rather to his stockings, or, for that matter, to his trousers,—for they were all of a piece,—and bright scarlet in color, as were also his little coat and his high-pointed hat and a queer little cloak that hung over his shoulder. His mouth was so wide that when he smiled it seemed to go quite behind his ears, and there was no way of knowing where the smile ended, except by looking at it from behind, which Davy couldn’t do, as yet, without getting into the fire.

Now, there’s no use in denying that Davy was frightened. The fact is, he was frightened almost out of his wits, particularly when he saw that the little man, still smiling furiously, was carefully picking the hottest and reddest embers out of the fire, and, after cracking them like nuts with his teeth, eating them with great relish. Davy watched this alarming meal, expecting every moment to see the little man burst into a blaze and disappear; but he finished his coals in safety, and then, nodding cheerfully at Davy, said:—

“I know you!”

“Do you?” said Davy, faintly.

“Oh, yes!” said the little man. “I know you perfectly well. You are the little boy who doesn’t believe in fairies, nor in giants, nor in goblins, nor in anything the story-books tell you.”

Now the truth was that Davy, having never met any giants when he was out walking, nor seen any fairies peeping out of the bushes in the garden, nor found any goblins sitting on the bedposts about the house, had come to believe that all these kinds of people were purely imaginary beings, so that now he could do nothing but stare at the little man in a shamefaced sort of way and wonder what was coming next.

“Now, all that,” said the little man, shaking his finger at him in a reproving way,—“all that is very foolish and very wrong. I’m a goblin myself,—a hobgoblin,—and I’ve come to take you on a Believing Voyage.”

“Oh, if you please, I can’t go!” cried Davy, in great alarm at this proposal; “I can’t, indeed. I haven’t permission.”

“Rubbish!” said the Goblin. “Ask the Colonel.”

Now, the Colonel was nothing more nor less than a silly-looking little man, made of lead, that stood on the mantel-shelf holding a clock in his arms. The clock never went, but, for that matter, the Colonel never went either, for he had been standing stock-still for years, and it seemed perfectly ridiculous to ask him anything about going anywhere, so Davy felt quite safe in looking up at him and asking permission to go on the Believing Voyage. To his dismay the Colonel nodded his head, and cried out, in a little, cracked voice:—

“Why, certainly!”

At this the Goblin jumped down off the knob of the andiron, and skipping briskly across the room to the big Dutch clock, rapped sharply on the front of the case with his knuckles, when, to Davy’s amazement, the great thing fell over on its face upon the floor as softly as if it had been a feather-bed. Davy now saw that, instead of being full of weights and brass wheels and curious works, as he had always supposed, the clock was really a sort of boat, with a wide seat at each end; but, before he had time to make any further discoveries, the Goblin, who had vanished for a moment, suddenly reappeared, carrying two large sponge-cakes in his arms. Now, Davy was perfectly sure that he had seen his grandmother putting those very sponge-cakes into the oven to bake, but before he could utter a word of remonstrance the Goblin clapped one into each seat, and scrambling into the clock sat down upon the smaller one, merely remarking:—

“They make prime cushions, you know, and we can eat ’em afterwards.”

For a moment Davy had a wild idea of rushing out of the room and calling for help; but the Goblin seemed so pleased with the arrangements he had made, and, moreover, was smiling so good-naturedly, that the little boy thought better of it, and, after a moment’s hesitation, climbed into the clock and took his seat upon the other cake. It was as warm and springy, and smelt as deliciously, as a morning in May. Then there was a whizzing sound, like a lot of wheels spinning around, and the clock rose from the floor and made a great swoop toward the window.

“I’ll steer,” shouted the Goblin, “and do you look out sharp for cats and dogs,” and Davy had just time to notice that the Colonel was hastily scrambling down from the mantel-shelf with his beloved timepiece in his arms, when they, seated in the long Dutch clock, dashed through the window and out into the night. “‘I’ll steer,’ said the Goblin”

title: Davy and the Goblin/Chapter I


text:
Erwin v. Parham/Dissent Nelson

Mr. Justice NELSON dissented.

I am unable to assent to the decision of a majority of the court in this case.

The complainant has purchased, at sheriff's sale, thirteen promissory notes, given as part of the purchase money upon a sale of a large plantation and slaves; and secured by mortgage on the same to an amount exceeding $260,000 for the small sum of $600; and asks the interposition of the extraordinary powers of this court on the equity side to aid him in realizing this enormous speculation.

I think he should be left to his remedy at law, and this, upon the established course of proceeding of a court of chancery in these cases.

In Seymour v. Delancey and others, (6 Johns. (N. Y.) Ch., 222,) Chancellor Kent held that a specific performance of a contract of sale is not a matter of course; but rests entirely on the discretion of the court, upon a view of all the circumstances. And that though mere inadequacy of price, independent of other circumstances, is not, of itself, sufficient to set aside the transaction, yet it may be sufficient to induce the court to stay the exercise of its discretionary power to enforce a specific performance. All the cases on this subject will be found reviewed in that case; and, also, by Chief Justice Savage in the Court for the Correction of Errors where the decree in that case was affirmed. 6 Cow., 445.

The Chancellor, after having referred to many of the cases particularly, observed that these cases show the antiquity of the doctrine of the court; and that the power of awarding the specific execution of contracts, for the sale of land, rested in sound judicial discretion, and was not to be applied to cases that were hard, or unfair, or unreasonable, or founded on very inadequate considerations.

The strong ground against enforcing a contract, where the consideration is so inadequate as to render it a hard bargain, and an unequal and unreasonable bargain, is that, if a court of equity acts at all, it must act ex vigore, and carry the contract into execution with unmitigated severity; whereas, if the party be sent to law, to submit his case to a jury, relief can be afforded in damages, with a moderation agreeable to equity and good conscience, and when the claims and pretensions of each party can be duly attended to, and be permitted to govern the assessment.

In the case before us, if the court undertakes to give relief, it would seem, from the established rules of proceeding in equity, that it will be bound to award to the complainant the full amount of the notes in question; and thus enable him to realize upwards of $260,000 upon a purchase at the price of $600; in other words, virtually awarding to him, for this small consideration, an estate, which Wall, one of the defendants, had sold for a sum exceeding $260,000, as the notes in question constitute part of the purchase-money and the payment secured upon this estate.

The inadequacy of the consideration is far beyond that of any case that has come under my observation in the course of this examination, and is such as to shock the common sense of mankind.

In many of the cases in which the court has refused to interfere, mainly on the ground of inadequacy of price, only half the value had been agreed to be given. That was considered as sufficient evidence of a hard and unconscionable bargain, to induce the court to pause, when its extraordinary powers were invoked to the aid of the party seeking to realize the advantage of the contract, and turn him over to a court of law.

The complainant in this case is not without a remedy. If he has got a legal right, he can go into a court of law and enforce it. But I do not think it a fit case for the interposition of a court of equity.

I do not regard the allegation of a fraudulent attempt on the part of the defendants, to prevent the complainant from realizing the benefit of his purchase; as the question, whether or not a court of equity should interfere and grant the relief prayed for, in my judgment, is wholly unaffected by any such considerations; for, assuming the fraud should be hereafter established, and this impediment to the enforcement of the claim set up under the purchase, removed, even then, according to the course of proceeding in a court of equity, as already stated, that court would withhold its extraordinary power from aiding the party to obtain so unjust and unconscionable advantage, and turn him over to a court of law. By entertaining the case, as presented in the bill, and directing an answer, the court assumes that, if the complainant can establish the fraud in the transfer of the notes as charged, he is entitled to its decree for the whole amount of his purchase; for, as we have seen, a court of equity must act, if at all, ex vigore, and carry into execution the purchase as it has been made. It cannot consistently, in the exercise of its power on this subject, carry the purchase into partial execution by separating it, granting the execution in part, and withholding it in part. This would be arbitrary, and unsupported by any rule or principle to guide the judgment of the court.

Whether the court will entertain the case at all, or not, and give the relief prayed for in these cases, is a question of judicial discretion; but, when once entertained, and held to be a proper case for the relief, there can be no other given, consistent with established principles, than such as the legal title or right set up carries along with it. If it gives to him an estate in land, the court cannot stop at a moiety of it; nor, in this case, in awarding any amont less than the $260,000. The legal title to the whole amount is as complete as to any portion of it.

For these reasons, thus briefly given, I am obliged to dissent from the decision in this case.

title: Erwin v. Parham/Dissent Nelson


text:
Davy and the Goblin/Chapter II

Chapter II. The Beginning of the Believing Voyage. The first thought that came into Davy’s mind when he found himself out-of-doors was that he had started off on his journey without his hat, and he was therefore exceedingly pleased to find that it had stopped snowing and that the air was quite still and delightfully balmy and soft. The moon was shining brightly, and as he looked back at the house he was surprised to see that the window through which they had come, and which he was quite sure had always been a straight-up-and-down, old-fashioned window, was now a round affair, with flaps running to a point in the centre, like the holes the harlequin jumps through in the pantomime.

“How did that window ever get changed into a round hole?” he asked the Goblin, pointing to it in great astonishment.

“Oh,” said the Goblin, carelessly, “that’s one of the circular singumstances that happen on a Believing Voyage. It’s nothing to what you’ll see before we come back again. Ah!” he added, “there comes the Colonel!”

Sure enough, at this moment the Colonel’s head appeared through the flaps. The clock was still in his arms, and he seemed to be having a great deal of trouble in getting it through, and his head kept coming into view and then disappearing again behind the flaps in so ridiculous a manner that Davy shouted with laughter, and the Goblin smiled harder than ever. Suddenly the poor little man made a desperate plunge, and had almost made his way out when the flaps shut to with a loud snap and caught him about the waist. In his efforts to free himself he dropped his clock to the ground outside, when it burst with a loud explosion, and the house instantly disappeared.

This was so unexpected, and seemed so serious a matter, that Davy was much distressed, wondering what had become of his dear old grandmother, and Mrs. Frump, the cook, and Mary Farina, the housemaid, and Solomon, the cat. However, before he had time to make any inquiries of the Goblin, his grandmother came dropping down through the air in her rocking-chair. She was quietly knitting, and her chair was gently rocking as she went by. Next came Mrs. Frump, with her apron quite full of kettles and pots, and then Mary Farina, sitting on a step-ladder with the coal-scuttle in her lap. Solomon was nowhere to be seen. Davy, looking over the side of the clock, saw them disappear, one after the other, in a large tree on the lawn, and the Goblin informed him that they had fallen into the kitchen of a witch-hazel tree, and would be well taken care of. Indeed, as the clock sailed over the tree, Davy saw that the trunk of it was hollow, and that a bright light was shining far underground; and, to make the matter quite sure, a smell of cooking was coming up through the hole. On one of the topmost boughs of the tree was a nest with two sparrows in it, and he was much astonished at discovering that they were lying side by side, fast asleep, with one of his mittens spread over them for a coverlet. I am sorry to say that Davy knew perfectly well where the other mitten was, and was ashamed to say anything about it.

 The rabbit takes liberties with Davy’s property. “I suppose my shoes are somewhere about,” he said, sadly. “Perhaps the squirrels are filling them with nuts.”

“You’re quite right,” replied the Goblin, cheerfully; “and there’s a rabbit over by the hedge putting dried leaves into your hat. I rather fancy he’s about moving into it for the winter.”

Davy was about to complain against such liberties being taken with his property, when the clock began rolling over in the air, and he had just time to grasp the sides of it to keep himself from falling out.

“Don’t be afraid!” cried the Goblin, “she’s only rolling a little;” and, as he said this, the clock steadied itself and sailed serenely away past the spire of the village church and off over the fields.

Davy now noticed that the Goblin was glowing with a bright, rosy light, as though a number of candles were burning in his stomach and shining out through his scarlet clothes.

“That’s the coals he had for his supper,” thought Davy; but, as the Goblin continued to smile complacently and seemed to be feeling quite comfortable, he did not venture to ask any questions, and went on with his thoughts. “I suppose he’ll soon have smoke coming out of his nose, as if he were a stove. If it were a cold night I’d ask him to come and sit in my lap. I think he must be as warm as a piece of toast;” and the little boy was laughing softly to himself over this conceit, when the Goblin, who had been staring intently at the sky, suddenly ducked his head, and cried “Squalls!” and the next moment the air was filled with cats falling in a perfect shower from the sky. They were of all sizes and colors,—big cats, little cats, black cats, white cats, gray cats, yellow, spotted and brindle cats, and at least a dozen of them fell sprawling into the clock. Among them, to Davy’s dismay, was Solomon, with the other mitten drawn over his head and the thumb sticking straight up like a horn. This gave him a very extraordinary appearance, and the other cats evidently regarded him with the gravest distrust as they clustered together at Davy’s end of the clock, leaving Solomon standing quite alone, and complaining in a muffled voice as he tugged frantically at the mitten.

“Don’t scold so much!” said the Goblin, impatiently.

Now, Davy would never have teased Solomon if he had had the slightest idea that cats could talk, and he was dreadfully mortified when Solomon cried out excitedly, “Scold! I should think I had enough to scold about to-day! I’ve had bits of worsted tied on to my tail, and I’ve had some milk with pepper in it, and I’ve had pill-boxes stuck on to my feet, so that I fell heels over head downstairs—let alone having this nightcap on!”

All this was certainly enough to scold about; but what else Solomon had to complain of will never be known, for, at this moment, an old tabby cat screamed out, “Barkers!” and all the cats sprang over the side of the clock, and disappeared, with Solomon bringing up the rear, like a little unicorn.

“I think it sounds very ridiculous for a cat to talk in that way,” said Davy, uneasily.

“Yes; but it sounds very true, for all that,” said the Goblin, gravely.

“But it was such fun, you know,” said Davy, feeling that he was blushing violently.

“Oh, I dare say! Fun for you,” said the Goblin, sarcastically. “Jolligong! Here come the Barkers!” he added, and, as he said this, a shower of little blue woolly balls came tumbling into the clock. To Davy’s alarm they proved to be alive, and immediately began scrambling about in all directions, and yelping so ferociously that he climbed upon his cake in dismay, while the Goblin, hastily pulling a large magnifying-glass out of his hat, began attentively examining these strange visitors.

“Bless me!” cried the Goblin, turning very pale, “they’re sky-terriers. The dog-star must have turned upside-down.”

“What shall we do?” said Davy, feeling that this was a very bad state of affairs.

“The first thing to do,” said the Goblin, “is to get away from these fellows before the solar sisters come after them. Here, jump into my hat.”

So many wonderful things had happened already that this seemed to Davy quite a natural and proper thing to do, and as the Goblin had already seated himself upon the brim, he took his place opposite to him without hesitation. As they sailed away from the clock it quietly rolled over once, spilling out the sponge-cakes and all the little dogs, and was then wafted off, gently rocking from side to side as it went.

Davy was much surprised at finding that the hat was as large as a clothes-hamper, with plenty of room for him to swing his legs about in the crown. It proved, however, to be a very unpleasant thing to travel in. It spun around like a top as it sailed through the air, until Davy began to feel uncomfortably dizzy, and the Goblin himself seemed to be far from well. He had stopped smiling, and the rosy light had all faded away, as though the candles inside of him had gone out. His clothes, too, had changed from bright scarlet to a dull ashen color, and he sat stupidly upon the brim of the hat as if he were going to sleep.

“If he goes to sleep he will certainly fall overboard,” thought Davy; and, with a view to rousing the Goblin, he ventured to remark, “I had no idea your hat was so big.”

“I can make it any size I please, from a thimble to a sentry-box,” said the Goblin. “And, speaking of sentry-boxes”—here he stopped and looked more stupid than ever.

“I verily believe he’s absent-minded,” said Davy to himself.

 “I’m a cockalorum,” he softly murmured. “I’m worse than that,” said the Goblin, as if Davy had spoken aloud. “I’m absent-bodied;” and with these words he fell out of the hat and instantly disappeared. Davy peered anxiously over the edge of the brim; but the Goblin was nowhere to be seen, and the little boy found himself quite alone.

Strange-looking birds now began to swoop up and chuckle at him, and others flew around him, as the hat spun along through the air, gravely staring him in the face for a while, and then sailed away, sadly bleating like sheep. Then a great creature, with rumpled feathers, perched upon the brim of the hat where the Goblin had been sitting, and, after solemnly gazing at him for a few moments, softly murmured, “I’m a Cockalorum,” and flew heavily away. All this was very sad and distressing, and Davy was mournfully wondering what would happen to him next, when it suddenly struck him that his legs were feeling very cold, and, looking down at them, he discovered, to his great alarm, that the crown of the Goblin’s hat had entirely disappeared, leaving nothing but the brim, upon which he was sitting. He hurriedly examined this, and found the hat was really nothing but an enormous skein of wool, which was rapidly unwinding as it spun along. Indeed, the brim was disappearing at such a rate that he had hardly made this alarming discovery before the end of the skein was whisked away, and he found himself falling through the air.

He was on the point of screaming out in his terror, when he discovered that he was falling very slowly and gently swaying from side to side, like a toy-balloon. The next moment he struck something hard, which gave way with a sound like breaking glass and let him through, and he had just time to notice that the air had suddenly become deliciously scented with vanilla, when he fell crashing into the branches of a large tree.

title: Davy and the Goblin/Chapter II


text:
Davy and the Goblin/Chapter III

Chapter III. In the Sugar-Plum Garden. The bough upon which Davy had fallen bent far down with his weight, then sprang back, then bent again, and in this way fell into a sort of delightful up-and-down dipping motion, which he found very soothing and agreeable. Indeed, he was so pleased and comforted at finding himself near the ground once more that he lay back in a crotch between two branches, enjoying the rocking of the bough, and lazily wondering what had become of the Goblin, and whether this was the end of the Believing Voyage, and a great many other things, until he chanced to wonder where he was. Then he sat up on the branch in great astonishment, for he saw that the tree was in full leaf and loaded with plums, and it flashed across his mind that the winter had disappeared very suddenly, and that he had fallen into a place where it was broad daylight.

The plum-tree was the most beautiful and wonderful thing he had ever seen, for the leaves were perfectly white, and the plums, which looked extremely delicious, were of every imaginable color.

Now, it immediately occurred to Davy that he had never in his whole life had all the plums he wanted at any one time. Here was a rare chance for a feast, and he carefully selected the largest and most luscious-looking plum he could find, to begin with. To his disappointment it proved to be quite hard, and as solid and heavy as a stone. He was looking at it in great perplexity, and punching it with his thumbs in the hope of finding a soft place in it, when he heard a rustling sound among the leaves, and, looking up, he saw the Cockalorum perched upon the bough beside him. He was gazing sadly at the plum, and his feathers were more rumpled than ever. Presently he gave a long sigh and said, in his low, murmuring voice, “Perhaps it’s a sugar-plum,” and then flew clumsily away as before.

“Perhaps it is!” exclaimed Davy, joyfully, taking a great bite of the plum. To his surprise and disgust he found his mouth full of very bad-tasting soap, and at the same moment the white leaves of the plum-tree suddenly turned over and showed the words “” printed very distinctly on their under sides. To make the matter worse, the Cockalorum came back and flew slowly around the branches, laughing softly to himself with a sort of a chuckling sound, until Davy, almost crying with disappointment and mortification, scrambled down from the tree to the ground.

He found himself in a large garden planted with plum-trees, like the one he had fallen into, and with walks winding about among them in every direction. These walks were beautifully paved with sugar-almonds and bordered by long rows of many-colored motto-papers neatly planted in the ground. He was too much distressed, however, by what had happened in the plum-tree to be interested or pleased with this discovery, and was about walking away, along one of the paths, in the hope of finding his way out of the garden, when he suddenly caught sight of a small figure standing a little distance from him.

He was the strangest-looking creature Davy had ever seen, not even excepting the Goblin. In the first place he was as flat as a pancake, and about as thick as one; and, in the second place, he was so transparent that Davy could see through his head and his arms and his legs almost as clearly as though he had been made of glass. This was so surprising in itself that when Davy presently discovered that he was made of beautiful, clear lemon candy, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, as explaining his transparency. He was neatly dressed in a sort of tunic of writing-paper, with a cocked hat of the same material, and he had under his arm a large book, with the words “” printed on the cover. This curious-looking creature was standing before an extremely high wall, with his back to Davy, intently watching a large hole in the wall about a foot from the ground. There was nothing extraordinary about the appearance of the hole (except that the lower edge of it was curiously tied in a large bow-knot, like a cravat); but Davy watched it carefully for a few moments, thinking that perhaps something marvellous would come out of it. Nothing appeared, however, and Davy, walking up close behind the candy man, said very politely, “If you please, sir, I dropped in here”—

Before he could finish the sentence the Hole-keeper said snappishly, “Well, drop out again—quick!”

“But,” pleaded Davy, “you can’t drop out of a place, you know, unless the place should happen to turn upside down.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” replied the Hole-keeper, without moving. “I never saw anything drop—except once. Then I saw a gum-drop. Are you a gum?” he added, suddenly turning around and staring at Davy.

“Of course I’m not,” said Davy, indignantly. “If you’ll only listen to me you’ll understand exactly how it happened.”

“Well, go on,” said the Hole-keeper, impatiently, “and don’t be tiresome.”

“I fell down ever so far,” said Davy, beginning his story over again, “and at last I broke through something”—

“That was the skylight!” shrieked the Hole-keeper, dashing his book upon the ground in a fury. “That was the barley-sugar skylight, and I shall certainly be boiled!”

This was such a shocking idea that Davy stood speechless, staring at the Hole-keeper, who rushed to and fro in a convulsion of distress.

“Now, see here,” said the Hole-keeper, at length, coming up to him and speaking in a low, trembling voice. “This must be a private secret between us. Do you solemsy promilse?”

“I prolemse,” said Davy, earnestly. This wasn’t at all what he meant to say, and it sounded very ridiculous; but somehow the words wouldn’t come straight. The Hole-keeper, however, seemed perfectly satisfied, and, picking up his book, said, “Well, just wait till I can’t find your name,” and began hurriedly turning over the leaves.

Davy saw, to his astonishment, that there was nothing whatever in the book, all the leaves being perfectly blank, and he couldn’t help saying, rather contemptuously:—

“How do you expect to find my name in that book? There’s nothing in it.”

“Ah! that’s just it, you see,” said the Hole-keeper, exultingly; “I look in it for the names that ought to be out of it. It’s the completest system that ever was invented. Oh! here you aren’t!” he added, staring with great satisfaction at one of the blank pages. “Your name is Rupsy Frimbles.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” said Davy, indignantly.

“Tut! Tut!” said the Hole-keeper. “Don’t stop to contradict or you’ll be too late;” and Davy felt himself gently lifted off his feet and pushed head-foremost into the hole. It was quite dark and rather sticky, and smelt strongly of burnt sugar, and Davy had a most unpleasant time of it crawling through on his hands and knees. To add to his distress, when he came out at the further end, instead of being, as he had hoped, in the open country, he found himself in a large room, with a lofty ceiling, through which a brilliant light was mysteriously shining. The floor was of tin, and greased to such a slippery degree that Davy could hardly keep his feet, and against the walls on all sides were ranged long rows of little tin chairs glistening like silver in the dazzling light.

The only person in the room was a little man, something like the Hole-keeper in appearance, but denser and darker in the way of complexion, and dressed in a brown paper tunic and cocked hat.

This little creature was carrying a pail, and apparently varnishing the chairs with a little swab as he moved swiftly about the room; and, as he came nearer, Davy determined to speak to him.

“If you please,” he began.

The little man jumped back apparently in the greatest alarm, and, after a startled look at Davy, shuffled rapidly away and disappeared through a door at the further end of the room. The next moment a confused sound of harsh voices came through the door, and the little man reappeared, followed by a perfect swarm of creatures so exactly like himself that it seemed to Davy as if a thousand of him had come back. At this moment a voice called out, “Bring Frungles this way;” and the crowd gathered around him and began to rudely hustle him across the room. The crowd began to hustle him across the room. “That’s not my name!” cried Davy, struggling desperately to free himself. “It isn’t even the name I came in with!”

“Tut! Tut!” said a trembling voice near him; and Davy caught sight of the Hole-keeper, also struggling in the midst of the crowd, with his great book hugged tightly to his breast.

“What does it all mean?” said Davy, anxiously.

“It means that we are to be taken before the king,” said the Hole-keeper, in an agitated voice. “Don’t say a word until you are spoken to, and then keep perfectly still;” and the next moment they were dragged up to a low platform, where the king was sitting on a gorgeous tin throne. He was precisely like the rest of the creatures, except that he was a little larger, and wore a blue paper coat and a sparkling tin crown, and held in his hand a long white wand, with red lines running screw-wise around it, like a barber’s pole. He stared at Davy and the Hole-keeper for a moment, and then called out, “Are the chairs buttered?”

“They are!” shouted the crowd, like one man.

“Then sit down!” roared the king.

The crowd shuffled off in all directions, and then engaged in a confused struggle for the chairs. They fought desperately for a few moments, tearing each others’ shirts, and screaming out hoarse little squawks of pain, while the king thumped furiously with his wand, and the Hole-keeper trembled like a leaf. At last all were seated and the hubbub ceased, and the king, frowning savagely at the Hole-keeper, exclaimed, in a terrible voice, “Who broke the barley-sugar skylight?”

The Hole-keeper began fumbling at the leaves of his book in great agitation, when the king, pointing at him with his wand, roared furiously: “Boil him, at all events!”

“Tut! Tut! your majesty,” began the Hole-keeper, confusedly, with his stiff little tunic fairly rustling with fright; but before he could utter another word he was rushed upon and dragged away, screaming with terror.

“Don’t you go with them!” shouted Davy, made really desperate by the Hole-keeper’s danger. “They’re nothing but a lot of molasses candy!”

At this the king gave a frightful shriek, and, aiming a furious blow at Davy with his wand, rolled off the platform into the midst of the struggling crowd. The wand broke into a hundred pieces, and the air was instantly filled with a choking odor of peppermint; then everything was wrapped in darkness, and Davy felt himself being whirled along, heels over head, through the air. Then there came a confused sound of bells and voices, and he found himself running rapidly down a long street with the Goblin at his side.

title: Davy and the Goblin/Chapter III