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Rh Well have to take all baggage with us, because I'm leaving to-morrow for a three-day inspection trip, and the Watterbys can't be expected to do much hauling."

Bob had the checks, one for Betty's trunk and another for a small old-fashioned "telescope" he had bought cheaply In Washington and which held his meagre supply of clothing.

"We'll stow everything in somehow," promised Mr. Gordon cheerily, as he and Bob carried the baggage over to the rusty little automobile. "You wouldn't think this machine would hold together an hour on these roads," he continued, "but she's the best friend I have. Never complains as long as the gasoline holds out. There! I think that will stay put, Bob. Now in with you, Betty, and we'll be off."

Bob perched himself upon the trunk, and Mr. Gordon took his place at the wheel. With a grunt and a lurch, the car started.

"I suppose you youngsters would like to know where you're going," said Mr. Gordon, deftly avoiding the ruts In the miserable road. "Well, I'll warn you it is a farm, and probably Bramble Farm will shine in contrast. But Flame City is impossible, and when everybody is roughing it, you'll soon grow used to the idea. The Watterbys are nice folks, native farmers, and what they lack in initiative they make up in kindness


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62 of heart. Im sorry I have to leave to-morrow morning, but every minute counts, and I have no right to put personal business first."

He turned to Bob.

"You don't know what a help you are going to be," he said heartily. "I really doubt if I should have had Betty come, if at the last moment she had not telegraphed me you were coming, too. It's no place out here for a girl—Oh, you needn't try to wheedle me, my dear, I know what I'm saying," he interpolated in answer to an imploring look from his niece. "No place for a girl," he repeated firmly. "I shall have no time to look after her, and she can't roam the country wild. Grandma Watterby is too old to go round with her, and the daughter-in-law has her hands full. I'd like nothing better, Bob, than to take you with me to-morrow, and you'd learn a lot of value to you, too, on a trip of this kind. But I honestly want you to stay with Betty; a brother is a necessity now if ever one was."

Bob flushed with pleasure. That Mr. Gordon, who had never seen him and knew him only through Betty's letters and those the Littells had written, should put this trust in him touched the lad mightily. What did he care about a tour of the oil fields if he could be of service to a man like this? And he knew that Mr. Gordon was honest in his wish to have his niece protected.

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


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Rh Betty was high-spirited and headstrong, and, having lived in settled communities all her life, was totally ignorant of any other existence.

"Listen, Uncle Dick," broke in Betty at this point. "Do you know anybody around here by the name of Saunders?"

"Saunders?" repeated her uncle thoughtfully. "Why, no, I don't recollect ever having heard the name. But then, you see, I know comparatively little about the surrounding country. I've fairly lived at the wells this summer. I only stumbled on the Watterbys by chance one day when my car broke down. Why? Do you know a family by that name?"

So Betty, helped out by Bob, explained their interest in the mythical "Saunders place," and Mr. Gordon listened in astonishment.

"Guess they're the aunts you're looking for, Bob," he said briefly, when he was in possession of the facts. "Couldn't be many families of that name around here, not unless they were related. Do you know, there's a lot of that tricky business afoot right here in Flame City? People have lost their heads over oil, and the sight of a handful of bills drives them crazy. The Watterby farm is one of the few places that hasn't been rushed by oil prospectors. That's one reason why I chose it."

They were now on a lonely stretch of road with


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64 gently rolling land on either side of them, dotted with a scrubby growth of trees. Not a house was in sight, and they had passed only one team, a pair of mules harnessed to a wagon filled with lengths of iron pipe.

"You'll know all about oil before you're through," said Mr. Gordon suddenly. Then he laughed.

"It's in the very air," he explained. "We talk oil, think oil, and sometimes I think, we eat oil. Leastways I know I've tasted it in the air on more than one occasion."

Betty had been silently turning something over in her mind.

"Isn't there danger from fire?" she asked presently.

"There certainly is," affirmed her uncle. "We've had one bad fire this season, and I don't suppose the subject is ever out of our minds very long at a time. Sandbags are always kept ready, but let a well get to burning once, and all the sandbags in the world won't stop it."

"I wouldn't want a well to burn," said Bob slowly, "but if one should, I shouldn't mind seeing it."

"You wouldn't see much but thick smoke," rejoined Mr. Gordon. "I've some pictures of burning wells I'll show you when I can get them out.


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Rh Nothing but huge columns of heavy black smoke that smudges up the landscape."

"Like the lamp that smoked one night when Mrs. Peabody turned it down too low—remember, Bob?" suggested Betty. "Next morning everything in the room was peppered with greasy soot."

"Look ahead, and you'll see the Watterby farm—'place,' in the vernacular of the countryside," announced Mr. Gordon. "Unlike the Eastern farms, very few homes are named. There's Grandma Watterby watching for us."

Bob and Betty looked with interest. They saw a gaunt, plain house, two stories in height, without window blinds or porch of any sort, and if ever painted now so weather-beaten that the original color was indistinguishable. A few flowers bloomed around the doorstep but there was no attempt at a lawn. A huddle of buildings back of the house evidently made up the barns and out-houses, and chickens stalked at will in the road-side.

These fled, squawking, when Mr. Gordon ran the car into the ditch and an old woman hobbled out to greet him.

"Well, Grandma," he called cheerily, raising his voice, for she was slightly deaf, "I've brought you two young folks bag and baggage, just as I


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66 promised. I suspect they've brought appetites with them, too."

"Glad to see you," said the old woman, putting out a gnarled hand. Her eyes were bright and clear as a bird's, and she had a quick, darting way of glancing at one that was like a bird, too. "Emma's got the supper on," she announced. "She's frying chicken."

"I'll go in and tell Mrs. Watterby that she may count on me," declared Mr. Gordon jovially, as Bob jumped down and helped Betty out. "I never miss a chance to eat fried chicken, never. I wonder if it will be fried in oil?"

"Emma uses lard," said Grandma Watterby placidly.


text: Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil/Chapter 8


text:
Author:John Parker (b. 1831)

Works

 * The Works of Dionysius the Areopagite, in 2 vols.

title: Author:John Parker (b. 1831)


text: Author:Wauchier de Denain

title: Author:Wauchier de Denain


text:
Author talk:John Parker (b. 1831)

Determining author
The work at archive.org says Rev. John Parker, M.A. and would indicate that adherent of Author:Edward Bouverie Pusey of Oxford and Church of England as faith though not confirming that a student of Pusey (d.1882).

From the Alumni Oxoniensis, nothing clearly demonstrates that any of the John Parker's were authors, though a number of possibilities. Nobody is noted as being an author.

Has been ordained, so checking of Crockford's Clerical Dictionary for 1885 and 1898 does not identify any as an author, which it would normally do if it was cited. Note that 1885 has 2x John, and 3x John +++, 3 have M.A. one of whom had the University of Durham, Gisborne Scholarship. Only one of the Parker's "John Paget P." went to Oxford.

Check of Alumni Cantabrigiensis is no more illuminating.

Check of British Library catalogue states for first book Christianity chronologically confirmed. John PARKER Vicar of Willoughby and Wysall. London : Skeffington & Son, 1892.

Similar author searches show similar detail

1898 Crockford's
p. 1032

PARKER, John. 77, Boulevard Mariette, Boulogne-sur-Mer.—Late Gisborne Scho. of Hatf. Hull, Dur., B.A. 1853, M.A. 1856. 𝔡 1856, 𝔭 1857 Lich. 𝔉 C. of Long Eaton, Derbys. 1855-1860; Aston-on-Trent 1860-62; Hawton, Notts. 1862-67; V. of Wysall Willoughby-in-the-Wolds, Notts. 1867-80.

1871 census for Wysall, Notts
District 15; Civil Parsh: Wysall, Hamlet: Wysall

Name: 	John Parker Age: 	39 Estimated Birth Year: 	abt 1832 Relation: 	Head Spouse's Name: 	Augusta Parker Gender: 	Male Where born: 	Tedford, Lincolnshire, England Civil parish: 	Wysall Town: 	Wysall County/Island: 	Nottinghamshire Country: 	England Registration district: 	Loughborough Sub-registration district: 	Leake ED, institution, or vessel: 	15 Household schedule number: 	3 Piece: 	3260 Folio: 	17 Page Number: 	1

Tetford?

1851 census for Tetford
1851 England Census about John Parker Name: 	John Parker Age: 	19 Estimated Birth Year: 	abt 1832 Relation: 	Son Father's name: 	Adlard Parker Mother's name: 	Eleanor Parker Gender: 	M (Male) Where born: 	Tedford, Lincolnshire, England Civil parish: 	Sixhills County/Island: 	Lincolnshire Country: 	England Registration district: 	Caistor Sub-registration district: 	Market Rasen ED, institution, or vessel: 	7 Neighbors: 	View others on page Household schedule number: 	3 Piece: 	2115 Folio: 	72 Page Number: 	1

Household Members: Name 	Age Adlard Parker 	61 Eleanor Parker 	59 Lyumachus Parker 	26 Thomas Parker 	25 John Parker 	19 John Smith 	20 Joseph Freshney 	18 John Johnson 	16 John Wright 	44 Dinah Storr 	17 Rachell Pinder 	19

Marriage
1867 marriage for John Parker and Augusta Vaughton

Baptism
Baptised in Tetford November 1831

 * Notes

VCH
http://www.victoriacountyhistory.ac.uk/sites/default/files/work-in-progress/willoughby_on_the_wolds_5_religious_hist_2012_08_27_0.pdf

States that wife or daughter presented the incumbent in 1906 indicating that presumably deceased. So died in France 1898-1906 period. — billinghurst  sDrewth  16:05, 27 July 2015 (UTC)

title: Author talk:John Parker (b. 1831)


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Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/198

 between Beethoven and his nephew, bears witness to the seriousness with which he fulfilled his paternal mission. It was interspersed with frequent fits of anger. Leonardo often sorely tried his uncle's patience; and his patience was far from great. The boy's bad handwriting was sufficient to exasperate Michael Angelo, who considered this to be a lack of respect towards him.

"I never receive a letter from you without being thrown into a fever before I can read it. I am at a loss to know where you learnt how to write! Little love here! . . . I believe that if you had to write to the biggest ass in the world you would take greater care. . . . I threw your last letter into the fire, because I could not read it. I cannot, therefore, reply. I have already told you, and constantly repeated, that every time I get a letter from you fever attacks me before I succeed in reading it. Once for all, write to me no more in the future. If you have anything to say to me, find some one who knows how to write, for I need my head for something else than to exhaust myself in deciphering your incomprehensible nonsense."

Naturally distrustful, and rendered still more suspicious through the vexations which his brothers caused him, he was not greatly deceived as regards his nephew's humble and fawning affection, which seemed to him to be addressed above all to his money-chest, to which the little boy knew he was to succeed. Michael Angelo did not hesitate to tell him so. On one occasion, being ill and in danger of death, he learnt that Leonardo had hastened


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 to Rome and made some indiscreet inquiries. Furious, he wrote the following lines to him:

"Leonardo! I have been ill, and you rushed to Ser Giovan Francesco's to see if I had left anything. Haven't you enough of my money at Florence? You cannot belie your family and avoid resembling your father, who drove me from my own house in Florence! Know that I have made a will in such a manner that you have nothing to expect from me. Go then with God; let my eyes see you no more, and never write to me again!"

These outbursts of anger had little effect on Leonardo, for they were generally followed by affectionate letters and presents. A year later he again rushed to Rome, attracted by a promise of a gift of 3000 crowns. Michael Angelo, hurt by this interested haste, wrote to him as follows:

"You have come to Rome in furious haste. I do not know whether you would have come so quickly had I been in poverty and in need of bread! . . . You say that it was your duty to come, through love of me! Yes! the love of a wood-worm. Had you loved me, you would have written: 'Michael Angelo, keep the 3000 crowns and spend them on yourself; for you have given so many to us that that is sufficient. Your life is dearer to us than


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Page:Alumni Oxoniensis (1715-1886) volume 3.djvu/294

 Parker, (Sir) Henry (Bart.), s. Hyde, of Tredington, co. Worcester, cler. , matric. 22 June, 1731, aged 18; B.A. 1735, fellow, M.A. 1738, B.D., 1755, D.D. 1760, 4th baronet, rector of Rotherfield Greys 1767, and of Glympton, Oxon, 1776, until his death 10 July, 1782. See Foster's Baronetage.  Parker, Henry, s. Robert, of Salford, co. Warwick, cler. , matric. 10 Oct., 1810, aged 22. See Robert 1721.  Parker, Henry, 2s. Samuel, of Low Elswick, near Newcastle-on-Tyne, arm. , matric. 17 April, 1822, aged 19; B.A. 1826, M.A. 1836, rector of Ilderton, Northumberland, 1840, until his death 14 July, 1871.  Parker, Henry, 2s. Henry, of Overton, Flints, D.Med. , matric. 20 March, 1846, aged 18, scholar 1846-51, B.A. 1850; fellow 1851-85, M.A. 1852, a student of Lincoln's Inn 1851.  Parker, Henry, of Oxford (city), 'inspector of weights and measures;' privilegiatus 19 May, 1859.  [5] Parker, Henry, 3s. John, of Farnham, Surrey, cler. , matric. 22 Oct., 1870, aged 18; B.A. 1876.  Parker, (Sir) Henry John (Bart.), s. Hugh, of St. Andrew's, Holborn. , matric. 7 July, 1721, aged 17; 3rd baronet, died in 1771. See Foster's Baronetage.  Parker, Henry John, s. Henry, of London (city), gent. , matric. 25 June, 1790, aged 17; B.A. 1794 (as ), M.A. 1797 (as ), Gresham professor of divinity, rector of High Halden, Kent, 1837, died 19 Oct., 1867.

Parker, Henry Martyn, 3s. Edward, of Kirkdale, Lancashire, gent. , matric. 18 Oct., 1870, aged 18; B.A. 1874, M.A. 1877.

Parker, Henry Royster, 1s. Henry, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, arm. , matric. 22 Jan., 1885, aged 19.

Parker, Horace, s. John, of York (city), cler. , matric. 8 May, 1799, aged 21; B.A. 1803, died an army chaplain on half-pay in 1833. See Manchester School Reg., ii, 206.

Parker, Humphrey Timmins, 1s. William, of Walton, Surrey, arm. , matric. 22 March, 1822, aged 17; B.A. 1827, M.A. 1831, vicar of Blandford, Dorset, 1836, until his death 25 Jan., 1853. See Eton School Lists, 103a.

Parker, James, s. John, of Bolton, Lancashire, gent. , matric. 21 March, 1718-9, aged 17; B.A. 1722, M.A. 1725, probably father of John 1747.

Parker, James, s. Richard, of Lisbon, Portugal, gent. , matric. 26 March, 1740, aged 16; B.A. 1743.

Parker, James, o.s. John Henry, of Oxford, gent. (name entered in Mat. Reg. 16 March, 1877, aged 43); created M.A. 6 March, 1877, of Oxford, publisher.
 [15]
Parker, James Benjamin, 2s. George Russell, of St. Pancras, London, gent. , matric. 24 Nov., 1859, aged 18; B.A. 1863, M.A. 1867, held various curacies 1865-86.

Parker, James Edward, 3s. James, of Rothley, co. Leicester, arm. , matric. 22 May, 1861, aged 18.

Parker, John, s. John, of Middlewich, Cheshire, gent. , matric. 15 May, 1716, aged 17.

Parker, John, s. John, of Bishopsgate, London, gent. , matric. 13 April, 1717, aged 17; bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1752.

Parker, John, s. George, of Plympton St. Mary, Devon, arm. , matric. 28 April, 1722, aged 18; of North Molton, Devon, died in 1768, father of John 1753, and brother of George 1718.
 [20]
Parker, John, s. Thomas, of St. Giles's, London, gent. , matric. 8 April, 1731, aged 18, B.A. 1734; chorister Magdalen College 1724-33. See Bloxam, i. 155.

Parker, John, s. John, of Woodthorpe. Yorks, gent. , matric. 10 May, 1746. aged 18, B.A. 14 Feb., 1749-50; M.A. from 1753 (sic), of Woodthorpe, a student of Lincoln's Inn, 23 Jan., 1746-7, died 6 Jan., 1794. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection.

Parker, John, s. John, of Bolton, Lancashire, arm. , matric. 11 Feb., 1746-7, aged 18; B.A. 1750 (? M.A. 1753).

Parker, John, s. John, of Saltram, Devon, arm. , matric. 23 Oct., 1753. aged 18; M.P. Bodmin 1761-2, Devonshire 1762, until created Lord Boringdon 18 May, 1784, died 27 April, 1788, father of John 1789.

Parker, John, 'apothecary;' privilegiatus 27 Sep., 1758.

Parker, John, s. William, of Bedford (town), gent. , matric. 6 May, 1769, aged 16; B.A. 1773, M.A. 1776. BD. 1785, rector of St. John, Bedford, 1787, until his death at Kemble, Wilts, 1 June, 1828.
 [26]
Parker, John, s. John, of Hasfield, co. Gloucester, arm. , matric. 25 March, 1774, aged 17. See Charles 1732, and William 1752.

Parker, John, s. John, of Newbold-upon-Avon, co. Warwick, cler. , matric. 14 May, 1774, aged 18; B.A. 1778, rector of Bilton, co. Warwick, and vicar of Newbold-upon-Avon 1787, until his death in 1817 (his father rector of Churchover with vicarage of Newbold 1743, until his death in 1787).

Parker, John, (2nd) Baron Boringdon, s. John, Baron Boringdon. , matric. 7 April, 1789; created D.C.L. 18 June, 1799, created Viscount Boringdon and Earl Morley 29 Nov., 1815, died 15 March, 1840. See Foster's Peerage.

Parker, John, s. George, of Lichfield, co. Stafford, arm. , matric. 7 March, 1792, aged 16; B.A. 1795, M.A. 1798.
 [30]
Parker, John. s. John, of Liverpool, Lancashire, arm. , matric. 13 Nov., 1800, aged 18; created M.A. 15 June, 1803.

Parker, John, s. Thomas (Netherton), of Hatton Grange, Salop, gent. , matric. 31 Jan., 1816, aged 17; B.A. 1820, M.A. 1825, of Sweeney Hall, Salop, rector of Llanemarwic, co. Montgomery, 1827-44, vicar of Llan-y-Blodwell, Salop, 1844, until his death 13 Aug., 1860, brother of Thomas Browne 1817. See Eton School Lists.

Parker, John, s. Hugh, of Woodthorpe, Yorks. arm. , matric. 6 March, 1817, aged 17; B.A. 1820, M.A. 1823, of Darrington Hall, Yorks, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1824, M.P. Sheffield 1832-52, secretary to the Treasury and to the Admiralty, privy councillor, died 5 Sep., 1881. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection.

Parker, John Bartholomew, 1s. Lysimachus, of Louth, co. Lincoln, gent. , matric. 11 May, 1843, aged 19.

Parker, John Fleming, s. John, of Settle, Yorks, arm. , matric. 14 Jan., 1801. aged 18; B.A. 1804, M. A. 1807, preb. of Llandaff 1813, perp. curate Waddington, Yorks, 1818, rector of Bentham, Yorks, 1825, until his death 26 Nov., 1862.
 [35]
Parker, John Henry 'bibliopola,' privilegiatus. 4 Feb., 1832; created M.A. 27 June, 1867, keeper of the Ashmolean Museum 1870-84, C.B. 30 Oct., 1871, died 31 Jan., 1884, aged 77; father of James 1877.

Parker, John Oxley, o.s. Christopher Comyns, of Woodham Mortimer, Essex, arm. , 14 Dec., 1829, aged 17; B.A. 1833, of Woodham, Mortimer, high sheriff, Essex, 1883, died in 1887, father of Christopher W. 1872. See Eton School Lists.

Parker, John Paget, 1s. John, of St. Nicholas, Worcester (city), arm. , matric. 12 Nov., 1846, aged 18; B.A. 1852, M.A. 1855, of Woodside House, Worcester, vicar of Hindlip, co. Worcester, 1858-62, etc.
 [ 1067 ]


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Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 21, 1910.djvu/175

 THE FORCE OF INITIATIVE IN MAGICAL CONFLICT.

BY W. R. HALLIDAY.

magic is in a sense a conflict. It is not, however, with the machinery of this conflict, nor with the weapons with which it is carried on, that we are here concerned, but rather with the deeper causes of victory or defeat. The result of reflection on the relation between sorcerer and victim, witch and bewitched, and an examination of the psychological presuppositions on which are based their success or failure, may, perhaps, prove of some interest and even importance in connection with the general question of the basis of magical efficacy; and at the outset, in view of the vexed controversy in which the larger question is involved, some declaration of creed may be thought necessary. Certain views, at any rate, I must put forward as briefly as possible, more or less after the manner of postulates deprived by lack of space of the justification which, in some cases, they may seem to require.

It is now widely admitted by anthropologists that magic is based on power. A rite which has efficacy in se is exactly analogous to a word of power. It is by his power or inana that the sorcerer or medicine-man works his will. But it is important to notice that in the lower culture the sorcerer's power differs not so much in kind as in degree from that of the ordinary man. Everyone has some power, some personality. For example, on the Rio Grande people are warned not to leave their hair clippings about, not because an enemy might make magical use of them, but


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148 for fear that they should do harm to others, and, in the East, Ahura Mazda advises mankind in much the same fashion. Again, it is the sick and weak that witchcraft easiest attacks. Infants before baptism, i.e. before they have a spiritual personality, are easy victims to dangers which have no power to harm adults. The evil eye most easily assails infants, animals, and young animals. Adults possess a power which, if alert, will serve for their defence. In Apuleius' story of Thelyphron (Metamorphoses, ii. 21), if the watcher of the corpse relaxed his attention, the body was mutilated by witches, but so long as he kept awake all was well. This innate power in every grown human being is a motive for the secrecy of magic. The ideal plan presumably is to work magic secretly, and then let your enemy know that you have done it and he will die of fright. In any case, if the aggressor's mana is not strong enough for a direct attack, he effects by secrecy a breach in the enemy's defence. He secures, unknown, his image or his hair; he takes him off his guard. When the Iroquois goes hunting, his orenda conquers the orenda of his quarry. A similar conflict underlies all magical usage. The existence of a modicum of power in every human being of necessity implies it.

Now the so-called sympathetic magic is based, not on a supposed axiomatic law that like causes like, but on the contagion of qualities. But qualities are, as it were, mana specialised, and the belief in the contagious infection of qualities is but an extension of the belief that mana affects that with which it is brought into contact. The wide area of personality as it is conceived in the Lower Culture


text:
Author:Salomon Reinach

Works

 * Manuel de philologie classique (1880)
 * Catalogue du Musée impérial d’antiquités (1882)
 * Traité d’épigraphie grecque (1885)
 * Grammaire latine (1886)
 * L’Origine des Aryens, histoire d’une controverse (1892)
 * Épona, la déesse gauloise des chevaux (1895)
 * La Sculpture en Europe avant les influences gréco-romaines (1896)
 * Répertoire de la statuaire grecque et romaine (1897-1930)
 * Répertoire des vases peints grecs et étrusques (1899-1900)
 * Les Chefs-d’œuvre du Musée du Louvre (1900)
 * Apollo : histoire générale des arts plastiques, professée à l’École du Louvre (1902-1903)
 * Recueil de têtes antiques idéales ou idéalisées (1903)
 * Les Apôtres chez les anthropophages, conférences faites au Musée Guimet (1904)
 * Cultes, mythes et religions (1905-1923)
 * Le Mariage avec la mer
 * Répertoire de peintures du Moyen âge et de la Renaissance, (1280-1580) (1906-1923)
 * Pourquoi Vercingétorix a renvoyé sa cavalerie d’Alésia (1906)
 * Orpheus, Histoire générale des religions (1907)
 * Les Origines chrétiennes
 * Répertoire de reliefs grecs et romains (1909)
 * Eulalie, ou Le grec sans larmes (1911)
 * Cornélie, ou Le latin sans pleurs (1912)
 * Sidonie, ou Le français sans peine (1913)
 * Chronologie de la guerre (10 volumes, 1915-1919)
 * Histoire de la Révolution russe (1917)
 * Catalogue illustré du Musée des antiquités nationales au château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye (1917-1921)
 * Répertoire de peintures grecques et romaines (1922)
 * Lettres à Zoé sur l’histoire des philosophies (3 volumes, 1926)
 * Glozel : la découverte, la controverse, les enseignements, avec vingt-trois modèles d’alphabets (1928)
 * Éphémérides de Glozel (1928-1930)

title: Author:Salomon Reinach


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Page:Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil.djvu/77

stayed over night, but was off early in the morning. Bob and Betty watched his rickety car out of sight, and then, determined to keep busy and happy, set out to explore the Watterby farm.

The family, they had discovered at supper the night before, consisted of Grandma Watterby, her son Will, a man of about forty-five, and the daughter-in-law, Emma, a tall, silent woman with a wrinkled, leathery skin, a harsh voice, and the kindest heart in the world. An Indian helped Mr. Watterby run the farm. In addition there were two boarders, a man and his wife who had come West for the latter's health and who, for the sake of the glorious air, put up with many minor inconveniences. They were very homesick for the East, and asked Bob and Betty many questions.

"Just think. Bob," said Betty, as she and Bob went out to the barn (they had been told that they were free to go anywhere), "there's no running water in the house. Mrs. Watterby carries in every bit that's used for drinking and Rh


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68. She was up at four o'clock this morning, carrying water to fill the tubs; she is doing the washing now."

"Water's as hard as a rock, too," commented Bob. "I suppose that's the alkali. Did you notice how harsh and dry Mrs. Watterby's face looks? Seems to me I'd rather drill for water than for oil, and the first thing I'd do would be to pump a line Into the house. They've lived on this farm for sixty years, your uncle said. At least Grandma Watterby has. And I don't believe they've done one thing to it, that could be called an improvement."

"Here's the Indian," whispered Betty. "Make him talk, Bob. I like to hear him."

The Indian had eaten at the same table with the family, after the farm fashion, and Betty had been fascinated by the monosyllabic replies he had given to questions asked him. He was patching a harness in the doorway of the barn and glanced up unsmllingly at them. Nevertheless he did not seem hostile or unfriendly.

"You come to see oil fields?" he asked unexpectedly. "You help uncle own big well, yes? Indians know about oil hundreds of years ago."

"Uncle Dick is working for a big oil company," explained Betty. "I don't think he owns any wells himself. Tell us something about the Indians? Are there many around here?"


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Rh There was an old sawhorse beside the door, and she sat down comfortably on that, while Bob, picking up a handy stick of wood, drew a knife from his pocket and began to whittle.

The Indian was silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke slowly, his needle stabbing the heavy leather at regular intervals.

"Wherever there is oil, there were Indians once," he announced. "Ask any oil man and he will tell you. At Lake Erie, in Pennsylvania and some parts of New York State, where dwelt the Iroquois, many years after oil was found. It is true, for I have read and heard it."

"Were the Iroquois in New York State?" asked Bob interestedly. "I've always read of the Mohawks, but not about them."

The Indian glanced at him gravely.

"The Mohawks were an Iroquois tribe," he explained courteously. "Mohawks, Senecas, Tionontati, Cayuga, Oneida—all were tribes of the Iroquois. Yes I see you recognize those names—many places in this country have been named for Indians."

"Are you an Iroquois?" asked Betty, rather timidly, for she feared lest the question should be considered impolite.

"I am a Kiowa," announced the redman proudly. "Oklahoma and Kansas were the home of the Kiowas, the Pawnees and the Comanches.


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70 And you see oil has been found here. In Texas, where the big oil fields are, once roved Wichitas. The Dakotas, some tribes of which were the Biloxi, the Opelousas and the Pascagoulas, lived on the gulf plains of Louisiana. Out in southern California, where the oil wells now flow, the Yokut Indians once owned the land. They tell me that where oil had been discovered in Central America, petroleum seeps to the surface of the land where once the Indian tribes were found."

"Did the Indians use the oil?" asked Bob. He, like Betty, was fascinated with the musical names of the mysterious tribes as they rolled easily from the Kiowa's tongue.

"Not as the white man does," was the answer. "The Senecas skimmed the streams for oil and sometimes spread blankets over the water till they were heavy with the oil. They used oil for cuts and burns and were famed for their skill in removing the water from the oil by boiling. Dances and religious rites were observed with the aid of oil. The Slouan Indians, who lived in West Virginia and Virginia, knew, too, of natural gas. They tossed in burning brands and watched the flames leap up from pits they themselves had dug.

"You will find," the Indian continued, evidently approving of the rapt attention of his audience, "many wells now owned by Indians and leased to


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Rh white-men companies. The Osage have big holdings. They are reservation Indians, mostly—perhaps they can not help that. I must go to the plowing."

He gathered up his harness and went off to the field, and Bob and Betty resumed their explorations, talking about him with interest. Their tour of the shabby outbuildings was soon completed, and just in time for a huge bell rung vigorously announced that dinner was on the table.

That afternoon they found Grandma Watterby braiding rugs under the one large tree in the side yard, and she welcomed them warmly.

"I was just wishing for some one to talk to," she said cheerfully. "Can't you sit a while? There isn't much for young 'uns to do, and I says to your uncle It was a good thing there was two of you—at least you can talk."

"What lovely rugs!" exclaimed Betty, examining the old woman's work. "See, Bob, they're braided, just like the colonial rag rugs you see in pictures. Can't I do some?"

"Sure you can braid," said the old woman. "It's easy. I'll show you, and then I'll sew some while you braid."

"Let me braid, too,'* urged Bob. "My fingers aren't all thumbs, if I am a boy."

"Well now," fluttered Grandma Watterby, pleased as could be, "I don't know when I've had


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72 somebody give me a lift. Working all by yourself is tedious-like, and Emma don't get a minute to set down. My brother used to make lots of mats to sell; he could braid 'em tighter than I can.

She showed Betty how to braid and then started Bob on three strips. Then she took up the sewing of strips already braided.

"We were talking to the Indian this morning," said Betty idly. "He told us a lot about Indians—how wherever they have been oil has been discovered. Does he really know?"

"Ki has been to Government school, and knows a heap," nodded Grandma Watterby. "What he tells you's likely to be so. I don't rightly know myself about what they have to do with the oil, but Will was saying only the other night that the Osage Indians have been paid millions of dollars within the last few years."

Her keen old eyes were sparkling, and she was sewing with the quick, darting motion that they soon learned was characteristic of everything she did. She must be very old, Bob decided, watching her shriveled hands, knotted by rheumatism, and the idea of age put another thought into his head.

"Mr. Gordon said you'd lived on this farm for sixty years, Grandma," the boy said suddenly. It had been explained to them that the old lady


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Rh enables persons quite easily to be united, or brought into contact, with power. Modes of contact for example are,—seeing, touching, spitting on, speaking to, the use of hair, faeces, images, or name, the giving of presents, and, in some cases, the payment of money. Union or contact with power is the foundation of magic, and in religion communion with the divinity is the basic idea: sacrifice has ultimately, as its raison d'être, the bringing into contact of worshipper and God. The agent brings himself voluntarily into contact or union with a beneficent power, as, for example, in the cases of union with the healing well or sacred tree. Further, of course, this union may be effected for the benefit of someone by a third party. Thus Tûm, Safekht, and Thoth inscribe the name of Rameses II. on the sacred tree of Heliopolis, thereby endowing him with eternal life.

But magic, no less than religion, is based on this notion of contact or union. The medicine man can add to his mana. The possession of the kin gives the Australian the magic power which is in them; the power of the migis passes to the Mide into whom it is shot. By eating a dead enemy you may add his power to your own. The religious sacrament is to some extent a self-surrender. There contact with a stronger power is undertaken, but the power is known to be beneficent; in union the worshipper is absorbed, but not annihilated, by the divinity. But, in the case of the accumulation of mana, the power is absorbed by the stronger party. When Isis knew Ra by his name, the god's power passed into the goddess. Thus, magical encounter is at once a union and a conflict. For union is fatal to that party whose identity is absorbed by


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Rh liked every one to use that title. "You must know 'most every one in the neighborhood"

"Fred Watterby brought me here the day we were married," the old woman replied, letting her sewing fall into her lap. "Sixty years ago come next October. I was married on my seventeenth birthday."

She sat in a little reverie, and Bob and Betty braided quietly, unwilling to disturb her, although the same question was in their minds. Then Grandma Watterby took up her sewing with a sigh, and the spell was broken.

"Know everybody in the neighborhood?" she echoed Bob's statement. "Yes, I used to. But with so many moving in and such a lot of oil folks, why, there's days when I don't see a rig pass the house I know."

Betty and Bob spoke simultaneously.

"Do you know any one named Saunders?" they chorused.


text: Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil/Chapter 9


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 150 the other. That is why failure is fatal to ogres. The Sirens must die when Odysseus passes in safety; the Sphinx, when her riddle has been answered, is doomed. In the case of witchcraft, again, may be seen how, beneath the conflict, lies still the idea of union,—the victim simply by being bewitched becomes part of the witch's personality. The regular charm against witchcraft is to attack the witch by sympathetic magic; it is noticeable that part of the victim is in this process as efficacious an instrument as the excreta of the witch. For example, a Somerset farmer cut off the ears of his bewitched cattle and burned them, "that the Witch should be in misery, and could not rest till they were pluck'd out." Glanvill narrates of another house where the furniture was bewitched "which they of the house being fully persuaded of, roasted a Bedstaff, upon which an old Woman, a suspected Witch, came to the House."

Magic then might almost be expressed as a conflict of wills. Powers or personalities are brought into contact, with the result that the identity of one party is absorbed or annihilated by the other. In the simple case of the accumulation of mana by the medicine-man, the power of the conquered enemy becomes, in the eating, ipso facto the power of the victor. The stronger absorbs the weaker. My object here is to suggest that throughout magical conflict this holds good and the stronger party wins. The aggressor, the party who takes the initiative, who recognises the seriousness of the conflict and acts with intention, is the winner; failure is of the weaker party, who is taken unawares, who gives himself away, who allows the enemy to get an advantage.

Let us take, first, the effect produced by very great mana on that with which it comes into contact. Contact with


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considered gravely.

"Saunders? Saunders?" she repeated reflectively, while Betty squeezed Bob's arm in an agony of hopeful excitement. "Seems to me—now wait a minute, and don't hurry me. When you hurry me, I get mixed in my mind."

Betty and Bob waited in respectful silence. The old woman rubbed her forehead fretfully, but gradually her expression cleared.

"There was a Saunders family," she murmured, half to herself. "Three girls, wasn't there—or was It four? No, three, and only one of 'em married. What was her name—Faith? Yes, that's it. Faith. A pretty girl she was, with eyes as blue as a lake and ripply hair she wore in a big knot. I always did want to see that hair down her back, and one day I told her so.

"'How long is it, Faith?' I asked her. 'When I was a girl we wore our hair down our backs in a braid and was thankful to our Creator for the blessing of a heavy head of hair.'

"Faith laughed and laughed. I can see her Rh


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Rh now; she had a funny way of crinkling up her eyes when she laughed.

"'I'll take it down for you, Mrs. Watterby,' she says; and, my land, if she didn't pull out every pin and let her hair tumble down her back. It was a foot below her waist, too. I never saw such a head o' hair."

Bob looked up at the old woman with shining eyes.

"That was my mother," he said quietly.

"Your mother!" Grandma Watterby's tone was startled. Then her face broke into a wrinkled smile.

"Well, now, ain't I stupid?" she demanded eagerly. "My head isn't what it used to be. Course you are Faith Saunders' son. She married David Henderson, a likely young carpenter. Dear, dear, to think you're Faith's boy. My, wouldn't your grandma have been proud to see you!"

"Did you know her?" asked Bob hungrily. Deprived of kin for so many years, even the claim to relatives, he was pathetically starved for the details taken for granted by the average boy.

"Your grandpa and your grandma," pronounced Grandma Watterby, "died 'bout a year after your ma was married. I guess they never saw you. Your aunties was all of twenty years older than she was. Your ma was the youngest of a


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76 large family of children, but they all died babies 'cept the two oldest and the youngest. Funny wasn't it?"

Betty waved her braiding wildly.

"Bob was told he had two aunts," she cried excitedly. "They're still living, aren't they, Grandma Watterby? Do they live near here?"

"I dunno whether they're living or not," said the old woman cautiously. "Seems like I would'a' heard if they had died, but mebbe not. I don't go out much any more, and Emma's no hand for news. Mebbe they died. I ain't heard a word 'bout the Saunders family for years and years. Where's your father, boy?"

"He died," said Bob simply. "He was killed in a railroad wreck, and I guess my mother nearly lost her mind. They found her wandering around the country, with only her wedding certificate and a few other papers in a little tin box. And she was sent to the poorhouse. That night I was born, and she died."

"Dear! dear!" mourned Grandma Watterby, a mist gathering on her spectacles. "Poor, pretty Faith Saunders! In the poorhouse! The Saunders was never what you might call rich, but I guess none of 'em ever saw the inside of the almshouse. And David Henderson was as fine a young man as you'd want to see. When Faith married him and he took her away from here, folks thought


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Rh they'd go far In the world. I wonder if Hope and Charity ever tried to find out what became of her?"

"Hope and Charity?" repeated Bob. "Are those my aunts?"

"Yes, Hope and Charity Saunders—they was twins," said the old lady. "Nice girls, too; and they thought everything of Faith. She was so much younger and so pretty, and they were like mothers to her. And she died in the poorhouse! Why didn't they send her baby back to the girls? They'd 'a' taken care of you and brought you up like their own."

Bob explained that his mother's mental condition had baffled the endeavors of the authorities to get information from her regarding her home and friends, and that she had evidently walked so many miles from the scene of the wreck that no attempt was made to identify his father's body. A baby was no novelty in the poorhouse, and no one was greatly interested in establishing a circle of relatives for him, and, except for a happy coincidence, he might have remained in ignorance of his mother's people all his life.

"I must find out where my aunts live," he concluded. "I overheard some chaps on the train talking about the Saunders place, and Betty and I decided that that must be the homestead farm. They may not live there now, but surely whoever


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78 does, could give me a clue. Do you know of a place so called around here? Or would Mr. Watterby?"

"I don't know where the Saunders place is," replied Grandma Watterby, genuinely troubled. "Will wouldn't know, 'cause he's only farmed here five years, having his own place till his pa died. If I recollect right, the Saunders didn't live round here, not right round here, that is. Let's see, it's all of fifteen years since Faith was married. I lost sight of the girls after she left, and they stopped driving in to see us. Where was their place? I know I went to old Mrs. Saunders' funeral. Well, anyway, I got this much straight—there was three hills right back of the house. I'd know 'em if I saw 'em in Japan—them three hills! You watch for 'em, boy, and when you lay eyes on 'em you'll know you've found the Saunders place!"

And that was the most definite direction Bob could hope for. Grandma Watterby had the weight of years upon her, and she could not remember the road that led to the farm she had often visited. Though in the days that followed she recollected various bits of information about Bob's mother and her life as a girl, to which he listened eagerly, she was utterly unable to locate the farm. She kept mentioning the three hills, however, and her son, overhearing, smiled a little.


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Rh "Mother never did pay much attention to roads and like-a-that," he commented dryly. "She always found her way around like the Babes in the Wood—by remembering something she had passed coming over."

The Watterby place was a curious mixture of primitive farming methods, ranching tactics, and Indian folklore, with a sprinkling of furtherest East and West for good measure. Will Watterby attributed his cosmopolitan plan of work to the influence of the ever-changing hired man.

"They come and they go, mostly go," he was fond of saying. "It's easier for me to do the hired man's way, 'cause I can't go off when things don't suit me. Our place seems to be a half-way station for all the tramps in creation. I reckon they get off at Flame City, and, headed east or west, have to earn the money for the rest of their trip. Well, anyway, I don't believe in being narrow; If a man can show me a better way to do a job, I'm willing to be shown."

"I simply have to have a clean middy blouse to wear to-morrow when Uncle Dick gets back," Betty confided to Bob. "And I don't intend to let Mrs. Watterby wash and iron it for me. Can't you fix me a tub of water somewhere out in the barn? I'll do it myself and spread it on the grass to dry. Then, when she's getting supper, I can heat an iron and press it."


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80 Bob was willing; indeed he needed clean collars himself, and had reached the decision that there was only one way to get them. Inquiry had established the fact that there was no laundry in Flame City, and the genus washwoman was practically unknown.

Betty went in to get her middy blouse, and Bob pumped pail after pail of water and carried it to the barn. One pump supplied the whole farm, house and barns. The two cows, three horses, and the pigs and chickens were watered thrice daily by the patient Ki.

Cold water was not the only difficulty Betty encountered when she came to the actual washing. The soap would not lather, and a thick white scum formed on the water when she tried to churn up a suds.

"Hard," said Bob laconically. "Got to have something to put in to soften it. Borax is good; know where there is any?"

Betty remembered having seen a box of borax on the kitchen shelf, and Bob volunteered to go for it. When he returned with it, he brought the news that there was a peddler at the back door with a bewildering "assortment of everything," Bob said.

"Put a lot of this in," he directed, handing the box to Betty, who obediently shook in half the contents. "Now we'll put the stuff to soak, and


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Rh go and look at this fellow's stuff. When you come back to wash, all you'll have to do will be to rinse 'em out and put them out to dry."

This sounded plausible, and the middy blouse and collars were left to soak themselves clean.

The peddler proved to have a horse and wagon, and he carried dress goods, notions, kitchen wear, books, stationery and candy. Bob and Betty had never seen a wagon fitted up like this, and they thought it far better than a store.

"I might buy that dotted swiss shirtwaist," whispered Betty, as Mrs. Watterby ordered five yards of apron gingham measured off. "My middy blouse might not dry in time."

"All right. And I'll get a clean collar," agreed Bob. "These aren't much and I suppose they're too cheap to last long, but at any rate they're clean."

The peddler drove on at last, and then Bob and Betty hurried back to their washing. Alas, the tub had disappeared. At supper that night, Mrs. Watterby had missed it and demanded of her husband if he had seen it.

"Sure, I had Ki spraying the henhouse this afternoon," Watterby rejoined. "Thought you'd mixed the soapsuds and washing soda for him. It was standing in the barn."

Betty explained. Of her blouse and Bob's collars, there remained a few ragged shreds, for


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82 she had poured enough washing powder in to eat the fabric full of holes. She took her loss good-naturedly and was thankful she had the new blouse to wear.

Uncle Dick, when he heard the story, went into gales of laughter.

"Tough luck, Kitten," he comforted her. "We'll go to see an oil fire this afternoon and that'll take your mind off your troubles."


text: Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil/Chapter 10


text:
User talk:117.252.92.236

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text:
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Rh persons highly charged with mana may be beneficial or highly dangerous. When Arise Evans rubbed his fungous nose on Charles II.'s hand, the king, we read, was disturbed, but the patient was cured. The relics of saints have been known to effect cures by their intrinsic holiness. But at the same time this awful power was not lightly to be approached. Great power may be hurtful as well as beneficial to that with which it comes in contact. In Bechuanaland molemo means poison as well as medicine, and the Gorgon's blood was powerful to heal or kill. Eurypylos, son of Euaemon, received a chest among the spoils of Ilium which fell to his share; inside it was an image of Dionysos. No sooner did he look inside and see the image, than he went out of his mind. On the return of the ark from the Philistines, the Lord "smote the men of Beth-shemesh, because they had looked into the ark of the Lord, even he smote of the people fifty thousand and threescore and ten men. And the men of Beth-shemesh said, Who is able to stand before this holy Lord God? and to whom shall he go up from us?" And, as David brought the ark in solemn procession to his new capital, Uzzah, one of the drivers of the cart, "put forth his hand to the ark of God, and took hold of it; for the oxen shook it. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah; and God smote him there for his error; and there he died by the ark of God." A Samoan high priest's glance was so deadly that, if he looked at a coco-nut tree, it died, and, if he


text:
Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands

HOME, thou return'st from Thames, whose naiads long Have seen thee ling'ring with a fond delay 'Mid those soft friends, whose hearts, some future day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth Whom, long endear'd, thou leav'st by Lavant's side; Together let us wish him lasting truth, And joy untainted, with his destin'd bride. Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast My short-liv'd bliss, forget my social name; But think far off how, on the southern coast, I met thy friendship with an equal flame! Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, whose ev'ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand: To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail; Thou need'st but take the pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe who own thy genial land.

There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet; Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill. There, each trim lass that skims the milky store To the swart tribes their creamy bowl allots; By night they sip it round the cottage door, While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. There every herd, by sad experience, knows How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, When the sick ewe her summer food forgoes, Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. Such airy beings awe th' untutor'd swain: Nor thou, though learn'd, his homelier thoughts neglect; Let thy sweet muse the rural faith sustain; These are the themes of simple, sure effect, That add new conquests to her boundless reign. And fill, with double force, her heart-commanding strain.

Ev'n yet preserv'd, how often may'st thou hear, Where to the pole the Boreal mountains run, Taught by the father to his list'ning son, Strange lays, whose power had charm'd a Spenser's ear. At ev'ry pause, before thy mind possest, Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, With uncouth lyres, in many-coloured vest, Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd: Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave, When ev'ry shrieking maid her bosom beat, And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Or whether, sitting in the shepherd's shiel, Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms; When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their bony swarms, And hostile brothers met to prove each other's arms.

'Tis thine to sing, how, framing hideous spells, In Sky's lone isle, the gifted wizard seer, Lodged in the wintry cave with [fate's fell spear,] Or in the depth of Uist's dark forest dwells: How they, whose sight such dreary dreams engross, With their own visions oft astonish'd droop. When, o'er the wat'ry strath, or quaggy moss, They see the gliding ghosts unbodied troop. Or, if in sports, or on the festive green, Their [piercing] glance some fated youth descry, Who now, perhaps, in lusty vigour seen, And rosy health, shall soon lamented die. For them the viewless forms of air obey; Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair: They know what spirit brews the stormful day, And heartless, oft like moody madness, stare To see the phantom train their secret work prepare.

[Stanza 5 and the first eight lines of stanza 6 are lost, 25 lines total]

What though far off, from some dark dell espied, His glimm'ring mazes cheer th' excursive sight, Yet turn, ye wand'rers, turn your steps aside, Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light; For watchful, lurking, 'mid th' unrustling reed, At those mirk hours the wily monster lies, And listens oft to hear the passing steed, And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes, If chance his savage wrath may some weak wretch surprise.

Ah, luckless swain, o'er all unblest indeed! Whom late bewilder'd in the dank, dark fen, Far from his flocks and smoking hamlet then! To that sad spot [his wayward fate shall lead]: On him, enrag'd, the fiend in angry mood, Shall never look with pity's kind concern, But instant, furious, raise the whelming flood O'er its drown'd bank, forbidding all return. Or, if he meditate his wish'd escape, To some dim hill that seems uprising near, To his faint eye the grim and grisly shape, In all its terrors clad, shall wild appear. Meantime the wat'ry surge shall round him rise, Pour'd sudden forth from ev'ry swelling source. What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs? His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthly force, And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathless, corse.

For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait, Or wander forth to meet him on his way; For him in vain at to-fall of the day, His babes shall linger at th' unclosing gate. Ah, ne'er shall he return! Alone, if night Her travell'd limbs in broken slumbers steep, With drooping willows dress'd, his mournful sprite Shall visit sad, perchance, her silent sleep: Then he, perhaps, with moist and wat'ry hand, Shall fondly seem to press her shudd'ring cheek, And with his blue-swoln face before her stand, And, shiv'ring cold, these piteous accents speak: "Pursue, dear wife, thy daily toils pursue, At dawn or dusk, industrious as before; Nor e'er of me one hapless thought renew, While I lie welt'ring on the osier'd shore, Drown'd by the kelpie's wrath, nor e'er shall aid thee more!"

Unbounded is thy range; with varied style Thy Muse may, like those feath'ry tribes which spring From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle. To that hoar pile, which still its ruin shows: In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found, Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows, And culls them, wond'ring, from the hallow'd ground! Or thither, where, beneath the show'ry west, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid: Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest, No slaves revere them, and no wars invade: Yet frequent now, at midnight's solemn hour, The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, And forth the monarchs stalk with sov'reign pow'r, In pageant robes, and wreath'd with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aerial council hold.

But, O! o'er all, forget not Kilda's race, On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting tides, Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides. Go, just, as they, their blameless manners trace! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song, Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain, Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along, And all their prospect but the wintry main. With sparing temp'rance, at the needful time, They drain the sainted spring; or, hunger-prest, Along th' Atlantic rock undreading climb, And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest. Thus blest in primal innocence, they live, Suffic'd and happy with that frugal fare Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give. Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there!

Nor need'st thou blush that such false themes engage Thy gentle mind, of fairer stores possest; For not alone they touch the village breast, But fill'd in elder time th' historic page. There Shakespeare's self, with ev'ry garland crown'd, [Flew to those fairy climes his fancy sheen], In musing hour, his wayward sisters found, And with their terrors drest the magic scene. From them he sung, when 'mid his bold design, Before the Scot afflicted and aghast, The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated line Through the dark cave in gleamy pageant pass'd. Proceed, nor quit the tales which, simply told Could once so well my answ'ring bosom pierce; Proceed, in forceful sounds, and colours bold, The native legends of thy land rehearse; To such adapt thy lyre and suit thy powerful verse.

In scenes like these, which, daring to depart From sober truth, are still to nature true, And call forth fresh delight to Fancy's view, Th' heroic muse employ'd her Tasso's art! How have I trembled, when, at Tancred's stroke, Its gushing blood the gaping cypress pour'd; When each live plant with mortal accents spoke, And the wild blast upheav'd the vanish'd sword! How have I sat, when pip'd the pensive wind, To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung; Prevailing poet! whose undoubting mind Believ'd the magic wonders which he sung! Hence, at each sound, imagination glows; [Hence, at each picture, vivid life starts here!] Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows; Melting its flows, pure, num'rous, strong, and clear, And fills th' impassion'd heart, and wins the harmonious ear!

All hail, ye scenes that o'er my soul prevail! Ye [spacious] friths and lakes, which, far away, Are by smooth Annan fill'd or past'ral Tay, Or Don's romantic springs at distance, hail! The time shall come when I, perhaps, may tread Your lowly glens, o'erhung with spreading broom; Or, o'er your stretching heaths, by fancy led; [Or o'er your mountains creep, in awful gloom!] Then will I dress once more the faded bow'r, Where Jonson sat in Drummond's [classic] shade; Or crop, from Tiviot's dale, each [lyric flower,] And mourn, on Yarrow's banks, [where Willy's laid!] Meantime, ye Pow'rs, that on the plains which bore The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains, attend, Where'er he dwell, on hill, or lowly muir, To him I lose, your kind protection lend, And, touch'd with love like mine, preserve my absent friend!


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152 glanced at a bread-fruit tree, it withered away. The holiness of Rabbi Juda of rabbinical tradition blasted four-and-twenty of his scholars in a single day Thus it is that the superman of the Lower Culture is hedged about with taboos. Of course, you must protect the External Soul of the community from possibility of harm, but you must also protect his subjects from the awful consequences of unwary and accidental contact with his supreme sanctity.

Now, if we ask when or under what circumstances is contact with very great mana beneficial and when is it dangerous, it is possible, I believe, to diagnose the general feeling which underlies the distinction. If we take the case of Rabbi Juda, an analogy may be witnessed in the relations of more modern teachers to their pupils. A person of strong character may stimulate or crush that of his pupils in proportion as their own mana is strong enough to benefit by the influence or weak enough to lose entirely its own independence. It is the utter disproportion of the two manas which is fatal to the smaller. "Who is able to stand before this holy Lord God?" Moses may not see the face of Jahwe; "he said, Thou canst not see my face; for there shall no man see me, and live." To come into contact with mana without disaster and even with beneficial results, it is necessary that your own mana should be sufficiently strong to bear it. Your intention, the seriousness of your attitude, your courage, or the sanction given by the performance of certain rites are essential. Thus, for example, the danger of blasphemy lies in the levity with which Power is approached. In Lincolnshire "old fashioned people at the end of the last century [i.e.


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146 degenerate and literary Straparola II. though the method by which the enchanted princess was won in that variant was different from that given in the present group.

Within the group there are minor differences with reference to the manner of unspelling the princess, which resolve themselves either, on the one hand, into the hero's keeping or obtaining something for her, or, on the other, into his guessing the object of her thoughts. These details are not, however, of much importance for the purpose in hand, though they might become so if an attempt were made to sub-divide the group. Thus Esthonian II. is decidedly unusual in its treatment of the matter just mentioned. Irish I. has traces of the Sword of Light and of The Two Friends. In Harz I. the hero himself follows the princess instead of leaving the actual work of unspelling to the helper, as is elsewhere the case. Irish II., finally, is peculiar not only in bringing in The Water of Life, as mentioned above, but also the motive of The Skilful Companions, which we have already met with in Sicilian and Harz II.

Irish II. is, indeed, of great importance to our study at this point. It is in some way a link between Sicilian and Harz II. and the subdivision now under discussion. Furthermore, the fact that Straparola II. has some traits of The Lady and the Monster in common with all the members of the group under consideration shows that it can safely be placed in the same category as Sicilian and Harz II. Though the feats by which the princess is won are somewhat different in the last-named variants from the feats in Straparola II. on the one hand and in the compound The Grateful Dead + The Poison Maiden + The Water of Life (The Lady and the Monster) on the other, there can be little doubt, it seems

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Rh to me, that all of them belong together. Irish II. by the introduction of The Skilful Companions thus furnishes a clue by which the tales having the compound just mentioned may be classed with two varieties of the simple combination, and permits us to reduce the total number of categories with reference to The Water of Life from four to three.

Before proceeding to a general discussion of the means by which this theme was brought into connection with The Grateful Dead and the comparative date of the combination or series of combinations, it is necessary to examine four other versions,—those which have the form The Grateful Dead + The Ransomed Woman + The Water of Life. Like the group just treated, all of them have been summarized and discussed with reference to the prime features of the compound. They are Bohemian, Simrock I., Simrock III., and Simrock VII.

The elements of these variants, apart from those due to the main compound, are as follows. In Bohemian the hero is given a flute and a captive princess by his helper, and escapes with them from prison. Later he is cast into the sea by a rival, but is rescued by the helper and given a wishing ring. By means of this ring he turns first into an eagle and afterwards into an old man, and succeeds in winning the princess by building and painting a church. In Simrock I. the hero is rescued by the helper after being cast overboard by a rival, and is given the power of obtaining his wishes. Thereby he paints three rooms to the liking of the princess, and is recognized by her. Simrock III. differs from this only in making the helper do the painting and in having one room painted instead of three. In Simrock VII., finally, the hero releases a princess by hewing trees, separating grain, and choosing his mistress among three hundred women, all without aid. Later he is rescued

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Rh the 18th] used to make it a matter of conscience when they read Holy Scripture, or talked on religious subjects, to speak of the devil; but when they had occasion to use the word in oaths, or in talk of a lighter sort, they were careful to say Divil."." The development of this double aspect of mana into the ordeal of itself bears witness to the deep-rooted feeling that the intention or the attitude of mind of the person who comes into contact with great power is of the most vital importance.

We have seen then that contact with mana may kill or cure, and that, on occasions where the contact is accidental and the agent lacking in seriousness of intention, the result is liable to be fatal. There are, indeed, two ways of dealing with hostile magic powers: (1) to avoid the possibility of contact, to conceal your name, to keep silence, to keep still, to conceal carefully the fragments of your clothing, hair, nails, etc.: (2), if contact is unavoidable, to get the upper hand by taking the initiative, by anticipating the contact, by asserting your own mana. Unless the victim gives himself away his mana will suffice for defence, and the enemy has no power over him. Here lies the basis of responsibility in temptation and the ruses by which victims are entrapped into giving themselves into the enemy's hands. Fairies could not seize any victim they chose; it was only those who went to sleep under a rock or on a green hill after sunset, or those who joined voluntarily in their levels or entered the fairy circle. If some adventurous wight penetrates to the land of the dead, to the realm of Faerie or to Hell, his return can only be prevented if he is unwary enough to eat pomegranate seeds, sit in the chair of Lethe, play on a demoniac bagpipe, consume the repast offered him, pluck a flower there growing, or perform some similar act of aggregation. Had True Thomas eaten the fruit, the Queen of the


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154 Middle Kingdom could not have sent him back to earth.

Compliance is fatal. The Butler in Glanvill's eighteenth relation is warned "Do nothing this Company invites you to." Those who obeyed the magic voice which murmured in their ear,—"Thou art a handsome youth, a handsome youth. Only look in the glass," put themselves by compliance into the enemy's hand. Similarly, thoughtless invitation of evil powers is fatal.

says the lover's ghost to his mistress in one of Sir W. Scott's poems. And the result of thoughtless imprecation is recognised all the world over. An irate Malay mother once exclaimed to her naughty boy,—"May the 'Toh Kramat Kamarong fly away with him," Next day the boy disappeared, and three days later 'Toh Kamarong appeared to her in a dream and told her that he had taken him off. "Deevil," cried the witch of Mucklestane Moor, incensed at the obstinacy of the geese, which she was trying to drive, "that neither I nor they ever stir from this spot more." She and her flock turned immediately to stones, which remain to this day. Among the Chukchi, "if a herdsman, angered with his flocks for their restlessness,


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Rh should say to them "Let the wolves eat you," as is usual with the reindeer Chukchi, he is considered to have promised his entire flock to the kelat, to whom the wolves are said to be akin, and the promise must be redeemed by slaying several of his best animals."

In possession by the Devil is to be found just the same responsibility on the part of the victim. He must have let the fiend within the circle of his defence. He must have put himself in the weaker position. The disciples suppose that an unfortunate cured by Jesus must have committed in his own person or that of his parents some grievous sin. So those who omit obvious precautions are liable to possession. "A Nunne did eat a lettice without grace or signing it with the signe of the cross, and was instantly possessed (sine cruce atque sanctificatione sic a demone obsessa. dial. Greg. pap. cap 9). Durand, lib 6. Rational, cap. 86. num. 8, relates that hee saw a wench possessed in Bononia with two Divells by eating an unhallowed Pomegranet, as she did afterwards confess, when she was cured by exorcismes." Exactly analogous is the case of the savage who leaves his fragments lying about. His carelessness puts him in the weaker position. It is his own fault that his enemy can come to close quarters with him. The case of the name is particularly instructive from our point of view. Of course, it is dangerous to let people get hold of your name, which they can use as easily as a piece of your clothes as an instrument of secret magic for your undoing. But the most fatal thing of all is to tell your name yourself. "In the west of Ireland," says Dr.


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 CORRESPONDENCE.

How far can we use the lore of the folk for ethnological and racial analysis?

It is only in comparatively recent times that the question has arisen explicitly. Effective folklore studies started from the survey of local, regional, or, at widest, assumed racial groupings of mankind. The first glimmerings of folklore as a separate field of study go back to the sixteenth century, to the period when, as a result of the long and complex processes styled Renaissance and Reform, the lore of the folk really became differentiated from that of the cultured classes, a differentiation which has increased ever more and more until the present day, when in so many countries the folk has largely lost its old traditional lore without acquiring the culture of advanced civilisation. The definite organisation of folklore study is due to the Grimms in the early years of the nineteenth century. During the first portion of the intervening period, the most important and valuable collection of folklore material was made by the Danish antiquaries of the 16th-17th centuries, who published the ballads, i.e. the narrative poetry, partly dramatic and partly lyrical in form and spirit, still current in the Danish area; this popular poetry was regarded as being essentially a product of the Danish people, the exponent of its emotions and feelings, a reflex of the historic conditions through which it had passed. Toward the close of the period, the alleged Celtic traditional poetry made known by Macpherson was universally hailed as a genuine revelation of the Celtic race, as an interpretation of its inmost individuality. But a short while later


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 394 Herder essayed in his Stimmen der Völker to elaborate a racial psychology on the basis of material for the most part of a popular nature. The essay was brilliant but premature, as the material at Herder's disposal was both fragmentary and insufficiently analysed. None the less his influence was wide and stimulating, and he may truly be regarded as one of the founders of our study. After a few more years the brothers Jacob and William Grimm,—but especially Jacob,—by their labours constituted folklore an independent branch of study with aims and methods of its own. Now Jacob Grimm was essentially a historian; he always sought to replace every fact he studied in its historic setting, to determine its historic relations, and to utilise it for a constructive view of historical development. A right and sound decision led him to work thoroughly a definite linguistic or racial area. Inevitably, however, the view of folklore which resulted and which prevailed among his followers was that of something distinctive, specifically characteristic of particular linguistic or racial groups. Inevitably also the significance of the lore of the folk as indicative of racial psychology was enhanced; its essentially archaic, primitive nature invested it with weightier import than those other elements of the more advanced culture, the alien, borrowed nature of which was so evident. Teutondom,—for it was in connection with the Teutonic group that the implications of folklore study first became manifest,—might have taken its religious organisation wholly, its political and juridical organisation largely, and its higher artistic culture to a great extent, from Rome; the lore of its folk was a thing of its very self, blood of its blood and soul of its soul.

This conception must undoubtedly have been speedily modified by the rapid advance of knowledge, and the consequent appreciation of the marked kinship of the lore of the folk throughout the European area, but for the fact that this advance coincided with the development of the studies of comparative philology and mythology, and with the consequent recognition of Aryan or Indo-Germanic unity. The results of the humbler study fell into line with those of the more influential academic sisters; they demonstrated the unity of Aryan speech and myth, and she that of popular fancy and belief. The tendency was fortified by the fact that up to then it was the artistic aspect of the lore


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Red Riding-hood

 * Red Riding-hood, a traditional European fairy tale

Poems

 * Red Riding-hood, a poem by Lewis Carroll
 * Red Riding-hood ("On the wide lawn the snow lay deep"), a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

Films

 * Red Riding Hood (1931), a sound cartoon by Van Beuren Studios

title: Red Riding-hood


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148 from the sea and recognized by means of a ring and a handkerchief.

The first three of these variants clearly show in the subsidiary elements just enumerated their relationship to The Water of Life. They lack the quest for some magical fountain or bird, to be sure, but they preserve the quest for the lady, which is an important factor in the märchen Of the three, Bohemian has the most extended and probably the best presentation of the details of the difficult courtship; and it gives the hero that power of metamorphosis which was noted in four variants of the type The Grateful Dead + The Water of Life simply. It may, therefore, on the basis of general and particular resemblance be classed with Polish, Hungarian I., Rumanian II., and Treu Heinrich Along with it, of course, go the briefer Simrock I. and Simrock III. There is this important difference between the two sets of tales, that in the simpler form the princess is won by the hero's success in bringing something from a distance, in the more complicated form by building and decorating. Yet the resemblance is sufficient to warrant the classification proposed.

With Simrock VII. the case is altogether different. There the subsidiary elements are connected with The Lady and the Monster rather than The Water of Life proper, yet not with that theme as it appears in combination with The Poison Maiden since in that group the hero disenchants the princess by guessing some secret, here by performing two feats of prowess or discrimination and by choosing the proper lady from a host of maidens. With Straparola II., however, which has the simpler combination The Grateful Dead + The Lady and the Monster, the resemblance is very close, as both have the happily directed choice. The complicated Simrock VII. thus falls into the same category with reference

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Author:George Grenville Phillimore

Works

 * (in part)
 * (English)
 * (in part)
 * (English)
 * (in part)

title: Author:George Grenville Phillimore


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title: Talk:Executive Order 6102


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Rh to this matter as Straparola II., Sicilian, and Harz II., and the group having the form The Grateful Dead + The Poison Maiden + The Water of Life (The Lady and the Monster specifically).

A summary of our three categories will be of service in discussing their relations to one another and to the themes with which The Water of Life or The Lady and the Monster are combined.

Class I. forms a territorially homogeneous group, all the members of it coming from eastern and central Europe. It is not altogether homogeneous in content, but preserves the theme of The Water of Life proper in a form where the hero wins a princess by means, among other feats, of metamorphosis. Class II. is the most widespread of all territorially, as its members come from all parts of Europe. It has instead of The Water of Life proper what must be regarded, in the present

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 on 18 Nov. He was promoted to be lieutenant-general on 26 Jan. 1797. Yellow fever and much desultory fighting made such terrible havoc among the British troops that, in spite of all Williamson's enthusiasm and energy, the island had to be evacuated in 1798, and Williamson, who had sacrificed his private fortune and health in this enterprise, returned to England. He died from the immediate effects of a fall at Avesbury House, Wiltshire, on 21 Oct. 1798.

WILLIAMSON, ALEXANDER (1829–1890), missionary to China, was born on 5 Dec. 1829, at Falkirk, studied at Glasgow, and was appointed missionary to China under the London Missionary Society. He was ordained at Glasgow in April 1855, and sailed in the following month for Shanghai, having previously married Miss Isabel Dougall. For two years he took part in missionary work at Shanghai and Pringhu; but, his health failing, he left China on sick leave, and arrived in England on 16 April 1858. His connection with the London Missionary Society terminated soon after his arrival in England. After some years spent in Scotland he returned to China as agent of the National Bible Society of Scotland, and arrived at Shanghai in December 1863. He died at Chefoo on 28 Aug. 1890. In 1879 he published a most interesting work on ‘Journeys in North China,’ in which he described the home of Confucius, and the district which is consecrated by associations with the sage. In addition he published a ‘Treatise on Botany’ in Chinese, entitled ‘Chih wu hsio,’ 1859.

WILLIAMSON, JOHN SUTHER (1775?–1836), colonel royal artillery, was born about 1775. He entered the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich on 8 Aug. 1791, and received a commission as second lieutenant in the royal artillery on 1 Jan. 1794. The dates of his further commissions were: lieutenant, 11 March 1794; captain-lieutenant, 12 Oct. 1799; captain, 12 Sept. 1803; brevet major, 4 June 1811; brevet lieutenant-colonel, 13 Oct. 1814; regimental major, 20 Dec. 1814; regimental lieutenant-colonel, 24 March 1817; colonel, 29 July 1825.

In June 1795 Williamson served on the coast of France in the expedition to Quiberon Bay, to assist the French royalists. In 1799 he went to the Cape of Good Hope and served in the Hottentot and Kaffir war of that year, thence to Egypt and the Mediterranean, was at the siege of Ischia in June 1809, commanded the artillery at the capture of four of the Ionian islands in October of that year, and at the siege and capture of Santa Maura in April 1810. He subsequently went to Spain and commanded the artillery at the battle of Castalla, under Sir (1768?–1827) [q. v.], on 12 April 1813; at the siege of Tarragona in June; at the disastrous engagement of Ordal on 12 Sept., and at the combat on the following day at Villa Franca. He was frequently mentioned in despatches.

He returned to England in 1814, and in the following year went to the Netherlands and commanded the artillery of the third division at the battle of Waterloo. He received the Waterloo medal and was made a companion of the order of the Bath, military division, in 1815. He served with the army of occupation in France until his promotion to be regimental lieutenant-colonel, when he returned to England. He was for some time superintendent of the Royal Military Repository at Woolwich, and prepared a new and extensive course of instruction in artillery, which formed the basis of the exercise of heavy ordnance and of all the miscellaneous instructions of the gunner for many years, and will always remain a model for professional works of the kind. Williamson died at Woolwich on 26 April 1836.

WILLIAMSON, JOSEPH (1633–1701), statesman and diplomatist, was baptised on 4 Aug. 1633 at Bridekirk, a village three miles north of Cockermouth. He was the youngest son of Joseph Williamson, who was instituted to the vicarage of Bridekirk in 1625 and died while his son was an infant. His mother married as a second husband the Rev. John Ardery (Fam. Minorum Gentium, p. 424).

After a good grounding at the grammar school of St. Bees, Joseph seems to have gone to London as clerk to Richard Tolson, the member of parliament for Cockermouth,


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Russell, John

 * articles in the Dictionary of National Biography
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in The New Student's Reference Work:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
 * articles in 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:

For works by or about the British stateman named John Russell, see Author:John Russell.

title: Russell, John


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150 state of the evidence, as the closely allied theme of The Lady and the Monster. Class III., the most compact of all in the region that it inhabits, preserves The Water of Life better than any other group, though not without frequent admixture and, in many instances, the loss of some elements.

It has been stated above that it would be hard to imagine such various traits coming from a single type of story. This becomes even more evident from the tabulation just made. To suppose that The Grateful Dead first united with The Water of Life, and that this compound gave rise to the varieties, as enumerated, would involve us in the direst confusion. If such were the case, how could Class II. with its introduction of The Lady and the Monster be explained? Why, moreover, should one variant having The Ransomed Woman fall into Class II., while three others fall into Class I.? Such an assumption, it is clear, would be self-destructive.

The only alternative is to suppose that The Water of Life entered into combination with simple or compound types of The Grateful Dead at more than one time and in more than one region. That The Grateful Dead united with The Poison Maiden and The Ransomed Woman rather early and quite independently abundant evidence goes to show; that The Water of Life is an independent motive and that, like at least two of the other themes, it was of Asiatic origin has likewise been made clear; that the latter could not have united with The Grateful Dead so early as did The Poison Maiden and The Ransomed Woman is proved by the discrepancies noted above. If it be assumed, on the contrary, that after the compounds The Grateful Dead + The Poison Maiden and The Ransomed Woman had arisen, both they and the simple theme in one or another form came into connection with one or another

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 through whose influence he was admitted as a town-boy to Westminster school, then under Dr. Busby. Busby recommended him to Gerard Langbaine the elder [q. v.] as a deserving northern youth, and in September 1650 he entered as a bateller of Queen's College, Oxford, whence he graduated B.A. on 2 Feb. 1653–4. His college tutors were Dr. Lamplugh and Dr. Thomas Smith. After graduating he went into France and the Low Countries as tutor to a young man of quality, possibly one of the sons of the Marquis of Ormonde (Hist. MSS. Comm. 4th Rep. App. p. 546; cf. Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1651–2, p. 300). In November 1657 he was elected a fellow of Queen's (graduating M.A. in the same month), and he held his fellowship until his marriage. Soon after the Restoration he quitted Oxford for political life upon obtaining a place in the office of Sir Edward Nicholas [q. v.], an old Queen's man, at that time secretary of state. In July 1660 Charles II sent to the provost and fellows of Queen's a special request that they would grant Williamson a dispensation for absence from college; his loss was regretted both by the parents of his pupils and by his colleagues. Henry Denton, the successor to his rooms in college, alluded to his musical tastes when he wrote in October 1660 ‘Your couple of viols still hang in their places as a monument that a genuine son of Jubal has been here.’

His position in the secretary's office was not at first lucrative; but his status was improved on 30 Dec. 1661 by his appointment as keeper of the king's library at Whitehall and at the paper office at a salary of 160l. per annum. The paper office work was performed by four or five clerks under Henry Ball, Williamson's subordinate. They issued news-letters once a week to numerous subscribers and to a smaller number of correspondents, the correspondents in turn furnishing materials which were subsequently embodied in the ‘Gazette’ (see below; cf. Ball's curious report of 23 Oct. 1674 appended to Christie's Williamson Correspondence and Mrs. Everett Green's preface to Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1665–6).

Meanwhile in October 1662 Nicholas was succeeded as secretary by Sir Henry Bennett (afterwards Lord Arlington), and Williamson was transferred to him as secretary. Facilities for making money now became abundant, and he showed himself no backward pupil in the generally practised art of exacting gratifications from all kinds of suitors and petitioners. Pepys met him at dinner on 6 Feb. 1663, and describes him: ‘Latin Secretary … a pretty knowing man and a scholar, but it may be he thinks himself to be too much so.’ On the 28th of the following month he became one of the five commissioners for seizing prohibited goods, and in November 1664 he was one of the five contractors for the Royal Oak lottery, which became a source of considerable profit to him (the right of conducting and managing lotteries was restricted exclusively to the five ‘commissioners’ in June 1665). In this same year (1664) Williamson seems to have been called to the bar from the Middle Temple.

When, in the autumn of 1665, Charles II sought refuge in Oxford from the great plague, the lack of a regular news-sheet was strongly felt by the court. The ravages of the pestilence seem to have disorganised L'Estrange's ‘Intelligencer’ and ‘News.’ Under these circumstances Leonard Lichfield [q. v.], the university printer, was authorised to bring out a local paper. On Tuesday 14 Nov. the first number of the ‘Oxford Gazette’ appeared, and was thenceforth continued regularly on Mondays and Thursdays. The Oxford pioneer of the paper was Henry Muddiman; but, after a few numbers, Williamson procured for himself the privileges of editor, employing Charles Perrot of Oriel College as his chief assistant. When the court was back at Whitehall, Muddiman made vain endeavours to injure Williamson's efforts as a disseminator of news, and L'Estrange put forth a claim, which was rejected, to a monopoly in publishing official intelligence. Williamson's paper became the ‘London Gazette,’ the first issue so named being that of 5 Feb. 1666 (No. 24); it soon outdistanced its rivals, and survives to this day as the official register of the transactions of the government.

As secretary to Arlington, who was at the head of the post office, Williamson took an active part in its management. The amount of official work of all kinds that he got through during the next fifteen years from 1665 to 1680 is enormous, and his correspondence at the Record Office is extraordinarily voluminous. Evelyn wrote that Arlington, ‘loving his ease more than businesse (tho' sufficiently able had he applied himselfe to it), remitted all to his man Williamson, and in a short time let him go into the secret of affaires, that (as his lordship himself told me) there was a kind of necessity to advance him, and so by his subtlety, dexterity, and insinuation he got to be principal Secretary …’ Williamson found some compensation for his labours in the opportunities afforded him of rapidly making money. Two instances of his generosity are afforded


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 in August 1666: he sent down money by a private hand to be applied to the relief of sick and wounded seamen, and also presented to his old college two pairs of banners wrought with silver thread, and a massive silver trumpet which was long used to summon the college to dinner (the summons has always been made by ‘a clarion,’ as ordained by the college statutes). The motive of the gift to the college appears to have been Williamson's anxiety, though he was a non-resident, to retain and sublet his rooms in college, and he menaced the fellows with ‘inconveniences’ if they did not accede to his wish; the college in reply diplomatically evaded the demand. In small matters, and especially in his management of the ‘Gazette,’ Williamson showed a decidedly grasping and penurious spirit.

With the warm concurrence of his chief, Williamson made various efforts to get into parliament, without meeting at first with success. His candidature failed at Morpeth (October 1666), Preston (May 1667), Dartmouth, and at Appleby, where in December 1667 his hopes were crushed by the intervention of Anne Clifford, the famous countess of Pembroke [for the laconic letter said by Horace Walpole to have been written on the subject by the countess, see ; that there is some truth in Walpole's story is rendered very probable by State Papers, Dom. Charles II, xxxi. 170]. On 22 Oct. 1669 Williamson eventually succeeded in getting elected for Thetford, and he was re-elected in February 1678–9, August 1679, February 1680–1, and March 1685. He did not sit in the Convention, but he was returned for Rochester in March 1690, while in October 1695, July 1698, and January 1700–1, being elected both for this city and for his old borough, he preferred to sit for the former. He seems to have voted steadily as a courtier, but, except in his official capacity as secretary, rarely opened his mouth in parliament.

In January 1671–2 Williamson became a clerk of the council in ordinary and was knighted. The post of clerk, which had been held by Sir Richard Browne, John Evelyn's father-in-law, had been promised to Evelyn by the king, ‘but,’ explains the diarist, ‘in consideration of the renewal of our lease and other reasons I chose to part with it to Sir Joseph Williamson, who gave us and the rest of his brother clerks a handsome supper at his house, and after supper a concert of music.’ He mentions elsewhere that Williamson himself was an expert performer at jeu des gobelets. On 17 May 1673 Williamson started, in company with Sir Leoline Jenkins [q. v.] and the Earl of Sunderland, as joint British plenipotentiary to the congress at Cologne. There he remained until 15 April 1674 (the letters written to him during his absence were printed for the Camden Society in two volumes, under the editorship of W. D. Christie, in 1874); but although the negotiations, which are detailed in Wynne's ‘Life of Jenkins,’ were tediously prolonged, nothing in reality was effected, and the separate peace between England and Holland (which was suddenly proclaimed in April 1674) was made not at Cologne, but in London.

Before he left England on his embassy it had been arranged between Williamson and his patron Arlington that upon his return Arlington should resign his office as secretary of state, and that Williamson, if possible, should be offered the reversion of the post upon paying a sum of 6,000l. This arrangement was provisionally sanctioned by the king. Meanwhile, in March 1674, Arlington offered to secure the office for Sir William Temple, another of his protégés, and to provide otherwise for Williamson; but Temple refused the offer, remarking to his friends that he considered it no great honour to be preferred before Sir Joseph Williamson.

Williamson returned in June 1674, and was at once appointed secretary of state, being then not quite forty-one; Arlington obtained the more lucrative post of chamberlain. A few days after his appointment Williamson was on 27 June 1674 admitted LL.D. at Oxford, and on 11 Sept. he was sworn of the privy council. Except for the great industry that characterised all Williamson's departmental work, there is little to distinguish his tenure of office as secretary. In September 1674 the new secretary officially announced to Temple as English ambassador at The Hague that the affairs of the United Provinces would henceforth come under his special care. The announcement cannot have been especially agreeable to Temple, and it seems to have been no less distasteful to the Prince of Orange, who saw in Williamson even more than in Arlington an instrument of complete subservience to the French sympathies of Charles II. With respect to another despatch Temple writes, on 24 Feb. 1677: ‘The prince could hardly hear it out with any patience. Sir Joseph Williamson's style was always so disagreeable to him, and he thought the whole cast of this so artificial, that he received it with indignation and scorn.’ He said on another occasion, as on this, that Williamson treated him ‘like a child who was to be fed on whipt cream.’ Temple