text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/385

 Rh At this point an end might be made, were it not that, folklore being the psychical side of anthropology, his efforts to establish a working alliance between it and psychical research demand reference. These are urged in Cock Lane and Common Sense, published in 1894. He wanted the folklorist to see that such reported phenomena as ghosts, wraiths, and all their kind, are within the province of anthropology to deal with; and he regretted that "Folk-Lore officially refuses to have anything to do with the subject." And he wanted the psychical researcher, in examining evidence for the occult, not to neglect the evidence furnished by tradition, savage superstition, and aught else that comes under the purview of folklore. In this attempt, as a sort of "honest broker," he admitted that he, Psycho-Folklorist as he dubbed himself when we had our bloodless duel over my Presidential Address, had "not quite succeeded," nor is success possible where the evidence of fact and the prepossessions of fancy essay harmony. "I have," he says, "been unable to reach any conclusion, negative or affirmative." But the effort showed the open mind hesitating to dogmatise, although it brought him the title "our effective ally," bestowed by Dr. Walter Leaf. He accepted the presidency of the Society for Psychical Research, but his attitude towards the whole business remained elusive, sceptical. When Eusapia Palladino, the "humorist" as he called her, was detected in tricks which had "deceived the very elect," he remarked that "it looked as if psychical research does, somehow, damage and pervert the logical faculty of scientific minds." Discussing these matters at the Savile Club some years ago, I quoted the verse "the devils also believe and tremble," when, with a twinkle, he replied, "I don't believe, but I tremble." Yet he gave some comfort to the psychists when, reviewing F. W. H. Myers' Human Personality after Death, he wrote: "I think (religious faith apart) that human faculty lends fairly strong presumption in favour of the survival of human consciousness." And a like

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


text:
Author:Walter Leaf

Works

 * A Companion to the Iliad for English Readers (1892)
 * Troy: A Study in Homeric Geography (1912)
 * Homer and History (N. W. Harris Lectures) (1915)
 * Strabo on the Troad (1923)
 * Banking (1927)
 * Walter Leaf, 1852–1927: Some Chapters of Autobiography with Charlotte Mary Symonds Leaf (1932)

Translations

 * Iliad of Homer with Andrew Lang and Ernest Myers (1883)
 * Excerpted as His Reply to the Envoys in The World's Famous Orations
 * A Modern Priestess of Isis of Vsevolod Solovyov (1895)
 * Versions from Hafiz, an essay in Persian metre (1898)
 * Quatrains From the Greek (1919)
 * Little Poems From the Greek (1922)

title: Author:Walter Leaf


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Washington, Ind.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Washington, Pa.


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/149

 He called him "a powerful genius . . . a miracle . . . . the light of our century"; he implored him "not to despise him, because he could not compare himself to him—he who was without an equal!" He laid the whole of his present and the whole of his future at his feet, and added:

"It is an infinite sorrow to me not to be able to give you my past also, in order to serve you all the longer. For the future will be short. I am too old. . . . I do not believe that anything can destroy our friendship, although I speak in a very presumptuous fashion, for I am infinitely beneath you. . . . I could as easily forget your name as the nourishment on which I live; yes, I could as easily forget the nourishment on which I live, and which only sustains the body, without pleasure, as your name, which nourishes the body and the soul, and fills them with such sweetness that as long as I think of you I feel neither suffering nor the fear of death. My soul is in the hands of the one to whom I have given it. . . . If I were to cease thinking of him I believe that I should fall dead on the spot." He made superb presents to Cavalieri:

"Stupendous designs and heads in black and red chalk, which he had made with the intention of teaching him how to draw. Then he drew for him a Rape of Ganymede, the Vulture eating the Heart of Tityrus, the Fall of the Chariot of the Sun in the Po, and a Bacchanalia of Infants, all most rare and unique."


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/150

 He also sent him sonnets, sometimes admirable, often obscure, and some of which were soon recited in literary circles and known all over Italy. The following sonnet has been styled "the finest lyric poem that Italy produced in the sixteenth century":

"With your beautiful eyes I see a gentle light, which my blind eyes can see no longer. Your feet assist me to bear a load which my crippled feet can support no longer. I feel that, through your mind, I am raised to heaven. My will is centred in your will. My thoughts are formed in your heart and my words in your breath. Abandoned to myself, I am like the moon, which is invisible in the sky as long as the sun shines.

Still more celebrated is this other sonnet, one of the finest poems which has ever been written in honour of perfect friendship:

"If a chaste love, if a superior devotion, if an equal fortune exist between two lovers, if cruel fate in striking


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 24, 1913.djvu/76

64 and those in italics to the Figures of the original paper. Where specimens are noted as having been obtained at Madrid or San Sebastian the provenance must be considered as uncertain, since objects from all parts of Spain are brought to Madrid either by the collectors supplying the dealers there or by a natural gravitation to the capital, and San Sebastian draws, I think, in part from Madrid. Horns. — The horns worn suspended at the neck by pack-animals were noted as being still in use at Toledo and Granada. Further specimens of the obsolete type of bone "horn" shown in Figs. 5, 6, 7 (Pl. IV.) were noted at Seville; the florid style of ornamentation of the silver sockets of these appears to be peculiar to that locality. Amulets similar to Figs. 8 and 40 (Pl. IV.) are still made and used at Seville. Fig. I (Plate I.). — A piece of antler, in a silver socket; Madrid. The lower end is carved in a shape suggestive of a phallus, a form to which, in Roman times, several of the present-day virtues of the horn were attributed ; the resemblance may, however, be merely a chance one due to the ornamental smoothing of the material to avoid paining the child's gums during dentition. (See also Musical Horns and Tritons below.) Lunar Crescents. — Several specimens were noted of the silver compound amulet shown in Fig. 15 (Pl. VII.). One of these, of unknown provenance, has a right "fig" hand (instead of the left hand of Fig. 15 (Pl. VII.)). Another (with left hand), from Seville, has a square piece of clear blue glass set above the four-petalled emblem. Such silver specimens do not, in general, appear to be very old, but I think that they are not of present-day manufacture ; I have seen no like amulets made of other metals. Fig. 2 (Pl. I.).— A brass amulet, quite new; Seville. This is particularly interesting as showing the disappearance of the "fig" hand of the older specimens noted above, which is here replaced by a small conventional circle, and by the increased resemblance to a cross of the four-petalled flower-like emblem. I have noted this emblem as occurring upon the wrists of the "fig" hands of some of the Portuguese compound amulets combining profane


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Washington and Jefferson College


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Washington and Lee University


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 24, 1913.djvu/79

Rh amuletic symbols with a figure of the Virgin, and have illustrated amulets in which a figure of the Virgin is used to turn a profane amulet (a lunar crescent) into a religious pendant (the Virgin standing, as is usual, upon a lunar crescent). Recently I have seen the four-petalled emblem as the decoration upon the robe of the Virgin in certain religious pendants of the sixteenth century. These facts suggest that this emblem, (concerning the meaning of which I have never succeeded in obtaining definite information from users of the amulets on which it occurs), is an emblem connected with the Virgin, and that its presence in the Portuguese amulets is for the purpose of giving a religious flavour to the profane "fig" hand, and in the Spanish amulets of turning the combination of the crescent and the "fig" hand into an amulet associated with the Virgin. In these connections it is worth recalling that the "fig" hand is a feminine emblem bearing somewhat the same relation to the vulva that the horn bears to the phallus. And one is led to speculate as to whether there can be traced some kinship between the "fig" hand, a distinctive survival of the days when Spain was Roman, with its feminine associations, and the almost similarly distinctively Semitic open hand now commonly known in Northern Africa as the "Hand of Fatima," — an amulet which, as Mohammedan, must have been most severely repressed by the Church authorities. Fig. 3 (Pl. I.). A crescent-shaped ornament, of thin brass, in which the projection at the centre of the inner curve is suggestive of a conventionalization of the "fig" hand ; Madrid. Hands. — A number of specimens of "fig" hands were noted, but of these none, with the exception of some of those of jet, seemed to be contemporary types. One specimen, of a material not noted in the original paper, is of ivory, painted red, in a silver socket. Almost all of the "fig" hands noted were left hands ; right hands seem to be comparatively rare. At Madrid "fig" hands of jet are still made and sold, some naturalistic, but others greatly conventionalized. (See also Crescents above.)


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Washington Elm


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Wasp

title: The New Student's Reference Work/Wasp


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Wat Tyler


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 24, 1913.djvu/80

66 Fig. 4 (Pl. I.). A highly conventionalized "fig" hand, with a chain for suspension ; Madrid. A flattish piece of jet, with four lines across the end to mark off the fingers, and a line across one side (illustrated) to show where the folded fingers meet the palm. A contemporary amulet, a number of which were kept for sale at a street-stall, against evil eye and (because it is of jet) for the preservation of the hair. I was told that at Madrid these amulets, when used for the hair, are carried anywhere upon the person, but that in the vicinity of Toledo they are worn, by women, in the hair itself. Fig. 5 (Pl. I.). A similarly conventionalized "fig" hand (back of hand illustrated) of jet, in a silver socket ; Seville. Jet. — A note quoted in the Diccionario General Etimológico speaks of jet as hung from the necks of Spanish Arab infants, to preserve them from the evil eye. (See also Hands above.) Fig. 6 (Pl. I.). A large bead of jet, in the form of a flattened globe, mounted in silver as a pendant, top here in view ; Madrid. Stone and Glass. — At Madrid, at a small street-stall, a string of over fifty milky glass beads, similar to those shown in Fig. 58 (Pl. VIII.), but smaller, was found, kept for the purpose of supplying women with single beads as lactation-amulets. Several beads of agate, combining greyish, reddish, and white, similar to Figs. 61 and 62 (Pl. VIII.), were noted in other cities. Fig. 7 (Pl. I.). A triple pendant, with a chain ; Madrid. The upper piece is of agate, greyish, white, and reddish, and was probably an amulet for women ; the middle piece is of blue glass with bands of other colours, and may have served as an amulet against the evil eye ; the lowest piece is a drop of black glass strewn thickly with spots of blue, yellow, and red, and probably served against the evil eye. Fig. 8 (Pl. I.)- A large piece of milky agate, mounted in silver as a pendant ; Madrid. A lactation-amulet.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watchmaking


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/386

 372 comfort came to those "who dwell at ease in Zion" in his quasi-assumption of primitive monotheism in the "High Gods" and "All Fathers" of lower races, on which the artillery of Mr. Sidney Hartland made havoc wellnigh as complete as were the effects of his own onslaught on the mythological theories of Max Müller and Herbert Spencer.

As for the man, apart from the writer, de mortuis nil nisi verum. Some of the obituaries,—that of The Times, for example,—speak of "a touch of superciliousness in his manner," and of an aloofness which barred intimacy. These were present, but they were only skin-deep, thin as the epiderm. Once penetrated, the warm human blood was felt, and if Andrew Lang was not of the rare company who have a genius for friendship, those who came to know him longest learned to appreciate him most. This was my experience, and the testimony may have more weight because our points of view sometimes differed fundamentally, and there was more than one skirmish between us. These only emphasised many kindly acts,—not least among them the thankless task, voluntarily offered, of reading one's proofs. I know that sometimes he gave offence by the tone of his reviews, the temptation to banter being too great to be resisted. But he bore no malice; and they who submit their wares to the critic must not be too squeamish over the verdict. Andrew Lang well and worthily maintained the high traditions of his calling, and in the sweetness and purity of home life he kept himself "unspotted from the world." He died at Banchory, and rests, "Life's tired-out guest," under the shadow of the ruined cathedral of his beloved St. Andrews.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water

title: The New Student's Reference Work/Water


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/387

 ANDREW LANG: FOLKLORIST AND CRITIC.

It is hard to speak about Andrew Lang in a few words. As a writer and thinker he is exceedingly many-sided. Besides, I knew him as a friend, and as a correspondent from whom brilliant notes flew off hke sparks from a smith's anvil. And he was likewise an integral part of Oxford,—at any rate, of what may be called the larger Oxford. If I may be allowed to indulge in personal reminiscence, when I first came up to Balliol, in 1885, Andrew Lang was very much before our eyes. I do not think that I was myself fortunate enough to meet him at the Master's, where so many of the personalities of the day were to be encountered. But every one of my generation delighted in his literary work, and especially in his poetry. Surely his poetry is, taken at the level of the lighter verse, of the very best quality, and deserving of even more fame than it has won. But for me in particular Custom and Myth, which was not long out, was a signpost pointing down a path which I have pursued pleasantly ever since. It is to the credit of my college tutors that they both suggested the reading of the book, and tolerated anthropological allusions in the weekly Greats' essays. By the time I was ready to take my degree, anthropology might be said to have established itself somewhere within the broad penumbra of Literæ Humaniores. Of course the constructive work of our Professor of Anthropology, Tylor, helped largely towards this end. But Andrew Lang helped hardly less. As Plato says, young men love, like puppy dogs, to tear everything to pieces. Consequently our juvenile sympathies were all with Andrew Lang in his fight with Max Müller. Unworthy no less than worthy reasons were, I daresay, at the bottom of our partisanship, for those were the last days of the predominance of Comparative Philology amongst


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water, Ascent of


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/48

 He was put to nurse with the wife of a marble-worker of Settignano. Later, he jokingly attributed his vocation as a sculptor to his foster-mother's milk. Sent to school, he spent nearly the whole of his time drawing. "For this reason he was regarded with displeasure and often cruelly struck by his father and his father's brother, who had a hatred for the artistic profession and considered it a scandal to have an artist in the family." Thus, whilst still a child, he came to know the brutality of life and the solitude of the mind.

His obstinacy prevailed over that of his father. At the age of thirteen he became an apprentice in the bottega of Domenico Ghirlandajo—the greatest and healthiest of Florentine painters. His early works were so successful that the master, it is said, was jealous of his pupil. At the end of a year they separated.

He took a dislike to painting, and, aspiring to a more heroic art, entered the school of sculpture which Lorenzo de' Medici had established in the gardens of St. Mark. The prince interested himself in him, lodged him in his palace and admitted him to his sons' table; and thus the child found himself at the very heart of the Italian Renaissance, in the midst of ancient collections, in the poetic and erudite atmosphere of those great Platonists Marsile Ficino, Benivieni, and Angelo Politiano. He became enraptured with their understanding. In order to live in the ancient world he cultivated an ancient soul and became a Greek sculptor. Guided by Politiano, "who loved him greatly," he carved a basso-relievo in

title: Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/48


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/94

80 above that both the snakestone and the stone thunderbolt are embedded deeply in the folklore strata of many parts of Britain and the Continent, and hence we may conclude that they both once formed part of the religion of these islands, but have been so overlaid by Christianity that they now represent not merely beliefs about fossils, but also what may perhaps be called some "fossil beliefs" of Britain as well. Above all we have found a possible link between the two classes of belief in the fact that both celts and ammonites are in India connected with the worship of Vishnu.

.


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/95

 COLLECTANEA.

, or as the Greeks call it Axó, is a village lying out in the middle of the Cappadocian plain about six hours' drive to the north of Nigde. With the exception of the church and the school now being constructed, the buildings consist entirely of flat-roofed houses of mud bricks, plastered over with a compound of straw, mud, and dung (Plate I). Against almost every wall are to be seen the dung cakes, which in this treeless country serve as fuel in the severe winter, plastered up to dry in the sun. The village naturally presents a somewhat squalid and insignificant appearance, but it is of considerable size. It is said to contain 800 houses, and in each house live the νοικοκύρης or head of the house, his unmarried daughters and his sons and their wives and families. In the house in which my companion and I were lodged the total number of the family was twenty-four. In the winter, when snow lies a metre deep on the ground and sheep and cattle are added to the human inhabitants of a mud dwelling, ill-calculated to withstand the assaults of rain and snow, the conditions of life must be uncomfortable indeed.

The inhabitants are all Christians, and, with the characteristic and pathetic hankering after an ancestral patrimony, the learned men of the place are convinced that Axó must have been a colony of Naxos! The majority of the people talk Turkish and one of the Cappadocian dialects of modern Greek. It was the latter indeed which brought Mr. Dawkins, whom I had the good fortune to accompany, to the place. One or two, the intellectual aristocracy, who had been taken out of their village by mercantile enterprise, spoke the "pure" tongue of modern Greece.


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/51

Rh marble representing the battle of Hercules with the Centaurs.

This arrogant low-relief, in which impassable strength and beauty reign supreme, reflects the athletic soul of the young Hercules and his fierce games with his rough companions. Michael Angelo, accompanied by Lorenzo di Credi, Bugiardini, Granacci and Torrigiano dei Torrigiani, also went to the church of the Carmelites to copy Masaccio's frescoes. He was not sparing with the railleries which he addressed to his less skilful comrades. One day he attacked the vain Torrigiani, whereupon Torrigiani gave him a crushing blow on the face with his fist. Later he boasted of the fact to Benvenuto Cellini, in the following words: "I gave him so violent a blow upon the nose with my fist that I felt the bone and cartilage yield under my hand as if they had been made of paste, and the mark I then gave him he will carry to his grave."

But paganism had not stifled Michael Angelo's Christian faith. The two hostile worlds disputed over his soul.

In 1490, Savonarola began his impassioned sermons on the Apocalypse. He was thirty-seven years of age. Michael Angelo was fifteen. The young artist saw the small, frail preacher, who was consumed by the Spirit of God, and the terrible voice which hurled thunderbolts on the Pope from the pulpit in the Duomo and suspended the bloody sword of God over Italy froze him with terror. Florence trembled. People rushed about the streets

title: Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/51


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Boa

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Boa


text:
Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 23, 1912.djvu/170

 THE SEVERAL ORIGINS OF THE IDEAS OF UNSEEN, PERSONAL BEINGS.

BY PROF, J. H. LEUBA, BRYN MAWR, U.S.A.

inquiry into the origin of the belief in unseen, personal powers is primarily concerned with the individual geniuses of the social groups considered. From time to time new ideas come to birth in the minds of specially gifted individuals, and through them become the possession of the community. This fact should be kept in mind throughout the following paper. But the statement that the conceptions out of which the gods arise are of individual origin is not inconsistent with the fact that the individual and religion are, in a very real sense, the products of the social group.

It is, I suppose, the passion for simplicity and unity that has led anthropologists and historians stubbornly to seek the origin of superhuman, personal powers in some one class of phenomena. According to Tylor, the idea of gods had its starting point in such things as dreams, visions, swoons, trances. Spencer is even more emphatic in deriving gods and worship from one original source,—the worship of the dead. Max Müller also ascribes to the gods one origin; he holds that the god-ideas proceed from the personification of natural objects. This unfortunate assumption of the unitary origin of the ideas of gods is, I believe, one of the chief causes of the unsatisfactory condition of our knowledge regarding the origin and the development of religion. In this paper I shall advance brief arguments, both psychological and historical, in support of the four following propositions:—


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water-Bug


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterbury, Ct.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterfall


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water-Lily


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterloo


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterloo, Ia.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watermelon


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/30

THE DISCOVERY OF ACHAEMENIAN RUINS AND INSCRIPTIONS— BARBARO TO LE BRUYN, A.D. 1472-1718

trilingual inscriptions of the Achaemenian Kings of Persia that have led to the decipherment of the whole cuneiform literature were found chiefly at Persepolis and Behistun; though a single line at Murgab and a short inscription at Hamadan, the ancient Ecbatana, also contributed to an important extent. Other inscriptions were observed at Van in Armenia; at Naksh-i-Rustam, a few miles from Persepolis; upon the site of the ancient Susa, and so far afield as Egypt. They are all monumental: chiselled upon the walls of buildings to record the name of the king who erected the edifice. They are written in three different methods of cuneiform writing, and reproduce the same text in three different languages.

The inscriptions at Persepolis were the first to attract attention. The ruins where they were found had excited curiosity long before their discovery by European travellers, and many legends had arisen to account for their origin. It was variously reported that they were the remains of a palace of Solomon, or of Cai Caius, a predecessor of Cyrus, or of the great national hero


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/31

2 Jamshid. The literary classes described them as the Takht-i-Cai Khusrau, or Throne of Cyrus; and later on as the Khaneh-i-Dara or Mansion of Darius. The early travellers, however, learned that the popular name for them was Chehel Minar, or Forty Minarets, from the lofty columns that form their chief architectural characteristic. But during the eighteenth century Jamshid triumphed over all his competitors, and since then they have been more generally known as the Takht-i-Jamshid, or Throne of Jamshid. The question of their origin was not indeed finally settled till the inscriptions were interpreted. Chardin, at the end of the seventeenth century, and Heeren, a hundred years later, still supported the claims of Jamshid. Although it no longer admits of doubt that the buildings were erected by Darius and Xerxes, there is even yet no complete unanimity as to their original design. The more common belief is that they were the actual palaces of the sovereign, and that one of the buildings was the scene of the conflagration ordered by Alexander. Their dimensions and construction offer considerable difliculties to the supposition that they were the actual residence of the great king, though they may have been adapted for official receptions and other ceremonial purposes.

They lie on the south-east slope of a hill overlooking the plain of Mervdasht about forty miles north of Shiraz. Many other remains belonging to the same period are found on both sides of the neighbouring river Polvar. Three miles further up are the ruins of the fortress city of Istakhr; and four miles across the river are the Tombs of Naksh-i-Rustam. Doubtless the great city of Persepolis included within its circuit the whole of these isolated ruins, though the name has become restricted to those that now specially engage


text:
Author:George Frederic William Lees

Books

 * A Summer in Touraine, 1909
 * The Art of the Great Masters, 1913

Translations

 * Romances of the French Revolution by G. Lenotre. (1909, New York: William Heinemann)
 * Recollections of Baron de Frénilly, 1909
 * The Life of Michael Angelo by Romain Rolland, 1912
 * The Night Cometh by Paul Bourget. 1916

 * After Big Game in Central Africa by Edouard Foà, 1899, London: A. and C. Black

title: Author:George Frederic William Lees


text:
Category:1972 court decisions

zh:Category:1972年判例法

title: Category:1972 court decisions


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/32

Rh our attention. They rise upon a terrace partly hewn from the solid rock, partly constructed of massive blocks of stone. They now consist chiefly of the colossal jambs of doors and windows, the connecting walls having entirely disappeared. Their chief characteristics are the beautiful columns that formerly gave the place its name, and the profusion of bas-reliefs that ornament the stonework. The platform is of very irregular shape, and is encased by a magnificent wall varying in height from twenty to fifty feet. It is approached from the plain on the west side by (1) a Double Staircase sunk into the line of the wall and rising parallel to it. At the summit is (2) a Porch entered between two buttresses supported by colossal bulls; beyond are two other buttresses with winged, human-headed bulls looking in the opposite direction towards the east. In the centre of the edifice marked by these two entrances there were originally four columns designed to support the roof, of which two only are now standing. Turning to the right, towards the south, is (3) a Sculptured Staircase leading up to the Columnar Edifice. It differs from the one already mentioned by standing out considerably from the line of the terrace; indeed there are two projections, the first no less than two hundred and twelve feet in length; the second, which again projects from the centre of the first, is eight-six feet in length. At either end of each projection is a single flight of steps; and the whole front is seen to be completely covered with bas-reliefs. Beneath the landing stage of the central projection the wall is divided into three compartments. In the centre is a plain polished slab intended for an inscription, and on either side are armed guards. In the spandrils formed by the ascent of the steps is a favourite device representing a contest between a


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/116

 del Riccio, Antonio Petreo and Donato Giannotti, and which the last named reproduced in his "Dialogues on the Diane Comedy." The friends expressed astonishment that Dante should have placed Brutus and Cassius in the last degree of Hell and Cæsar above. Michael Angelo questioned on the point, spoke in favour of tyrannicide: "If you had attentively read the first cantos," he said, "you would have seen that Dante knew the nature of tyrants only too well, and what punishments they deserved to receive from God and man. He places them among those who have been 'violent against their neighbour,' and punishes them in the seventh circle by plunging them into boiling blood . . . Since Dante recognised that, it is impossible to admit that he did not recognise that Cæsar was the tyrant of his country and that Brutus and Cassius did right to massacre him. For he who kills a tyrant, kills not a man but a beast with human face. All tyrants are devoid of the love which every one ought to naturally feel for his neighbour. They are deprived of human inclinations; they are no longer, therefore, men but brutes. That they possess no love for their neighbour is evident, otherwise they would not have taken what belonged to others, and would not have become tyrants by trampling others


text: Category:United States Supreme Court decisions in Volume 405


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterspout


text: Category:United States Supreme Court decisions in Volume 406


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watertown, Mass.


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/33

4 lion and a bull. On the wall to right and left ot the central stairs are three horizontal rows of bas-reliefs separated by an ornamental design of roses. They represent a procession of tributaries, leading animals or bearing gifts, about to ascend the central stairs. At either end is a polished slab occupying the whole height of the wall; but only the one to the west has been filled with an inscription. The Columnar Edifice (4), standing on the terrace above, is designed in the form of a Central Cluster and three colonnades—one in front and one on either side. The centre formed a square of thirty-six columns, and each of the colonnades consisted of two rows of six columns. The total number of columns should therefore be seventy-two, of which only thirteen now remain standing. They differ in height, and belong to two different orders. Those in the front colonnade and central group are lower than the others, and have a capital resembling the Ionic order, except that the volutes rise perpendicularly. In the colonnades a double bull or unicorn rests directly upon the shaft; and it has been generally assumed that similar animals were originally superimposed over the voluted capital to make the other columns of equal height. The edifice covered an area of three hundred and fifty feet from east to west, and two hundred and forty-six feet from north to south. Passing through the columns, and continuing in the same southerly direction, the ruins are reached that have yielded the largest number of inscriptions. First in order are the massive jambs belonging to the building now known as (5) the Palace of Darius; and beyond are the remains of three buildings lining the southern terrace. The one to the right is the scarcely discernible ruins of (6) the Palace of Ochus. In the centre rise the huge pilasters of the great (7) Palace of Xerxes; while beyond to the


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watertown, N. Y.


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/117

 under foot ... It is therefore clear that he who kills a tyrant does not commit murder, since he kills not a man but a beast. Thus, Brutus and Cassius did not commit a crime in assassinating Cæsar. Firstly, because they killed a man whom every Roman citizen, in accordance with the laws, was obliged to kill. Secondly, because they did not kill a man but a brute with a human face."

Thus Michael Angelo found himself, in the days of the national republican awakening which followed in Florence on the news of the taking of Rome by the armies of Charles V. and the expulsion of the Medici, in the front rank of Florentine revolutionaries. The same man who, in ordinary times, advised the members of his family to flee from politics as they would from the plague was in such a state of excitement that he feared neither the one nor the other. He remained in Florence, where there was both the plague and the revolution. The epidemic seized his brother Buonarroto, who died in his arms." In October 1528 he took part in the deliberations concerning the defence of the city. On January 10, 1529, he was chosen in the Collegium of the Nove di milizia to superintend the work of fortifying it. On April 6 he was appointed, for one year, governatore generale and procuratore of the fortifications of Florence. In June he


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watertown, Wis.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Waterville, Me.


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watervliet, N. Y.


text:
Author:William Barclay Parsons

Works

 * "China" (1900), article published in Popular Science Monthly
 * (Intra-Urban Railways)

title: Author:William Barclay Parsons


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/62

 upright position, so that it could swing freely without striking the ground—advanced. It took four days to move it from the Duomo to the Old Palace. On the 18th, at noon, it reached its destination. They continued to keep a guard around it at night, but, one evening, in spite of all precautions, it was stoned.

Such was that Florentine people who are sometimes held up to us as a model.

In 1504 the Seigniory of Florence pitted Michael Angelo against Leonardo da Vinci.

The two men were not fond of each other. Their common solitude ought to have brought them together. But if they felt that they were far removed from the rest of men, they were still more distant the one from the other. The more isolated of the two was Leonardo. He was fifty-two years of age—twenty years Michael Angelo's senior. Since the age of thirty he had been absent from Florence, the bitterness of whose passions was intolerable to his somewhat timid and delicate nature, to his serene and sceptical intellect, open to everything and understanding everything. This great dilettante, this man absolutely free and absolutely alone, was so detached from native country, religion and the entire world that he was only at his ease when with tyrants, who, like himself, were free minded. Forced to leave Milan in 1499, owing to the fall of his protector, Lodovico il Moro,

title: Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/62


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/34

Rh left is a small ruin called (8) the South-eastern Edifice. Turning back towards the north, between these ruins and the hill are the ruins of (9) the Central Edifice, a building resembling the Porch at the summit of the entrance. Beyond, in a line with the Columnar Edifice are the huge remains of the (10) Hall of the Hundred Columns. On the hill overhanging the Platform are two rock tombs similar to those at Naksh-i-Rustam; and, above, some travellers have traced three distinct walls and towers that formed the defence of the palace and city.

The palaces stand upon an artificial terrace of their own raised above the level of the platform, and the stairs leading up to them have afforded an opportunity for the display of ornamentation in bas-relief. The Porch is invariably protected by colossal guards hewn out of the stone. Over the great door of the main entrances the king is depicted entering or leaving the building, with attendants bearing the royal parasol and fly-chaser. On the doors leading to the lateral chambers he may be seen in dignified conflict with wild animals; or, as in the Palace of Xerxes, these scenes are replaced by attendants bearing viands to the royal table. Some of the most elaborate designs are met in the Central Edifice and in the Hall of the Hundred Columns. In the latter the king appears seated in a chair of state raised above the heads of five rows of warriors; while at the opposite door his throne is similarly supported by three rows of figures representing subject nations. These bas-reliefs are surrounded by an exquisite fretted fringe of roses, diversified above by small figures of bulls and lions; and over the whole the winged figure of Ormuzd is seen to hover.

A large inscription occupies the outside wall of the southern terrace. It is in four tablets, known as the


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/388

seemed as if the escaped circus tiger had disputed the intrusion of Young Slavin just as it had previously that of Ralph.

Whether his belligerent enemy had tried to beat off the animal, or it had attacked Slavin as he attempted to ascend the ladder, Ralph could not tell. One thing was sure, however: the impetuous "champeen" found himself in the mix-up of his life.

The tiger was growling and snarling. Slavin was uttering muffled shouts of terror and pain. Ralph fairly dropped down half a dozen rungs of the ladder.

The wrench with which he had armed himself was heavy, and had a very long handle. Six feet from the floor of the lower tower room, Ralph leaned as far out as he could, holding on to the ladder by one foot and one hand.

Swinging the wrench in the other hand and watching his opportunity, Ralph landed a sturdy Rh

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/388


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/389

Rh whack directly on top of the head of the infuriated tiger.

The blow was severe enough to crack the skull of a human being. The tiger, however, only ducked its head and sneezed, but it relaxed its hold of Slavin.

Ralph saw its great paw cut the air in one lightning-like downward stroke. He saw Slavin, with a curdling shriek, bound through the doorway like a ball. Then the tiger turned, caught sight of his new assailant, and crouched with a malignant snarl, posing for a spring.

Ralph took aim. He let go of the heavy wrench, using it as a missile now. It struck the tiger squarely between the eyes, throwing the animal off its balance. Then with due agility Ralph shot up the ladder like a steeple-jack.

Once in the tower room he closed the trap and fastened it down. A glance from its window showed some commotion in the yards round about.

A wild, tattered figure was scudding in frenzy for the street. It was Young Slavin. He was hatless, and, from neck to heel down his back, every garment he wore was ripped exactly in two as if slashed scientifically by a butcher-knife.

This envelope of tatters and Slavin's fearful outcries had attracted the attention of flagmen,

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/389


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/63

 he had entered the service, in 1502, of Caesar Borgia; but the end of the political career of that prince obliged him, in the following year, to return to Florence. There his ironical smile was to be observed side by side with the melancholy, feverish nature of Michael Angelo, and it exasperated the sculptor. Michael Angelo, absorbed in his passions and his faith, hated the enemies of his passions and his faith, but he hated much more those who were without passion and belonged to no faith at all. The greater Leonardo was the more Michael Angelo felt an aversion for him; and he let no opportunity slip of showing it. "Leonardo was a handsome man with engaging and distinguished manners. One day he was sauntering with a friend in the streets of Florence. He was dressed in a pink tunic, reaching to his knees, and his well-curled, artistically arranged beard floated on his breast. Near Santa Trinità a group of citizens were discussing a passage in Dante. Calling Leonardo to them, they begged him to explain the meaning. At that moment Michael Angelo was passing. Leonardo said 'Michael Angelo here will explain the verses of which you speak.' Michael Angelo, thinking that he wished to laugh at him, replied bitterly: 'Explain them yourself, you who made the model of a bronze horse, and who, incapable of casting it, left it unfinished—to your shame be it said!' Thereupon he turned his back on the group and continued on his way. Leonardo remained and reddened. And Michael Angelo, not yet satisfied and burning with a desire to hurt him, cried: 'And those thieves the Milanese who thought you capable of such a work!'"

title: Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/63


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/390

92 engineers, and brakemen in the vicinity. They shouted after the scurrying fugitive, they even tried to head him off for an explanation. Slavin, however, lost to reason for the moment, made a mad bee-line for Railroad Street, and disappeared behind some freight sheds.

Ralph hailed a roundhouse hand carrying a bucket of oil.

"Shut the lower door, will you?" he asked.

The man did so. It operated on a spring, and all he had to do was to detach a hook from a staple that held it open.

"Slip the padlock," continued Ralph.

"Why, that will lock you in!" exclaimed the bewildered oilman.

"That's all right," answered Ralph. "Thanks."

He smiled to himself as he answered some switch calls. The smile broadened as he ran over the exciting incidents of the hour.

Young Slavin was probably more scared than hurt. In his muddled condition, amid the semi-darkness of the lower tower room he might not have discerned or realized what had attacked him.

"He will report me a demon, and his friends will think me one, if he shows up in those tatters, laying his plight to my charge," smiled Ralph. "Well, I fancy 'the young Hercules' has got all the satisfaction he wants for the present."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/390


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/391

Rh In about fifteen minutes Ralph leaned from the window to greet a coterie he had been expecting for some time.

Stiggs, placid-faced and leisurely as usual, led a party Ralph had seen grouped around the circus cages on the street tracks at noon.

The six menagerie men still carried their equipment for capturing the escaped tiger: pikes, hooks, halter chain, and muzzle.

The manager, his hat stuck back on his head, nervously chewing a match and urging Stiggs to hurry, looked very much excited.

"Come, can't you hustle a bit?" Ralph heard him say to Stiggs. "Where's your tiger?"

Stiggs pointed up to the switch tower.

"What are you giving me?" demanded the circus manager in disgust—"that's a boy."

"He sent me—he knows where the tiger is," asserted Stiggs.

"Oh, that's it. Young man!" called up the circus manager. "Do you know this man?"

"Very intimately. I sent him to you. I have located your escaped animal, as he told you, I presume?" said Ralph.

"He did. It's true, then?" cried the circus manager eagerly. "Where is the brute?"

"Mr. Stiggs," called down Ralph, "are these people going to pay you for your trouble?"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/391


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/392

94 "Oh, sure," replied Stiggs animatedly. "See there—they gave me a whole package of tobacco."

Ralph regarded the simple-minded railroad pensioner pityingly. He fixed a censorious glance on the circus manager. The latter flushed and looked embarrassed.

"He said that was all he wanted," stammered the man.

"Oh, well, that won't do at all," declared Ralph. "Your animal has done some damage—in fact, came very nearly doing a great deal of damage. Besides that, Mr. Stiggs is a poor man. You offered a liberal reward for the capture of the animal this morning, I believe. Does that offer stand good now?"

A little crowd had been drawn to the spot by the presence of such an unusual group. Among them was a young fellow who had kept with the party since it had started out.

The circus manager knew this young man to be a reporter on the local paper, in the quest of a sensation. He could not risk an effective free advertisement by an exhibition of niggardliness on the part of the proprietors of the circus.

"Sure," he said importantly; "our people spare no expense in catering to the great show-going public. They spent six thousand dollars in

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/392


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/393

Rh the famous Calcutta Tom, the wonder of the animal universe, and—"

"You went over all that this noon," said Ralph, in a business-like way. "What about the fifty dollars?"

"Have you got the tiger?"

"I have," answered Ralph definitely.

"Produce him, and the money is yours."

"Very good," nodded Ralph, tossing down the key to the padlock of the lower door. "You will find the escaped animal downstairs here."

The local reporter made himself unduly active within the ensuing thirty minutes. He had written up Ralph Fairbanks once before. That was when the young railroader had acted as substitute fireman during the big fire in the yards at Acton, as already related in "Ralph of the Roundhouse."

Ralph had proven "good copy" in that instance. The fact of his having the escaped animal in custody, the litter of glass under the tower windows, some vague remarks of the flagman who had witnessed Ralph's sensational ascent of the telegraph pole, set the young reporter on the trail of a first-class story in a very few minutes.

The circus manager and his assistants soon had Calcutta Tom in fetters. As they pulled him out into daylight the manager cuffed and kicked him

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/393


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/394

96 till the animal slunk along, spiritless and harmless as some antiquated horse.

He drew out a roll of bank bills, counted out fifty dollars, made sure the reporter was noticing the act, and with a flourish tossed the money up to Ralph.

He wrote out a free pass to the show for Stiggs, slapping him on the shoulder and calling him a royal good fellow.

"Don't know if the railroad company can spare me," said Stiggs, shaking his head slowly.

"Come up here, Mr. Stiggs," said Ralph.

Jack Knight came along from the limits tower just then. He was halted by the reporter. Stiggs joined Ralph a few minutes later.

"I want to tell you, Mr. Stiggs, about this fifty dollars' reward from the circus people," began Ralph.

"Yes, glad you got it, Fairbanks," said Stiggs heartily. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have got the tobacco."

"Well, I want you to tell Mrs. Stiggs when you go home that I've got twenty-five dollars for her," went on Ralph.

"My! that's a lot of money," exclaimed the old railroad pensioner, opening wide his eyes. "Say, Fairbanks, that would stock me up with tobacco for the rest of my life!"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/394


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/395

Rh Knight came through the trap, the local reporter at his heels.

"What's been going on here?" demanded the veteran towerman, with a glance at the broken window panes.

Ralph glanced at the reporter. That individual had a paper tab in his hand all covered with notes, and looked eager and expectant.

"If our friend here will excuse our attention to railroad business strictly, I will try to tell you," said Ralph.

"Certainly," nodded the reporter, but disappointedly, as Ralph took Knight to the end of the room and a low-toned conversation ensued.

The same was interspersed with sensational, startling ejaculations of wild excitement, such a vivid play of interest and wonder on the part of old Jack, that the reporter wriggled in a kind of professional torment. He knew that Ralph must have a graphic story to relate.

"Mr. Fairbanks," he said anxiously, as the two terminated their conversation, "I hope you will give me a brief interview."

"Really, I couldn't think of it," answered Ralph, with a genial smile. "A tiger escaped from the circus and hid in the switch tower. That's about the facts of the case."

"You're a deal too modest," snorted old Jack.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/395


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/396

98 "You see, he's a stickler for railroad ethics," he explained to the reporter. "Well, that's all right in a young man, for the company usually want to give out their own reports to the press. In this instance, though, I don't think they will hold back the credit young Fairbanks deserves. You come with me, young man, and as soon as I report to the superintendent, I think you can get the facts for the liveliest railroad sensation you have had in Stanley Junction for many a long day."

Ralph had no right to interfere with this arrangement.

Knight came back in thirty minutes, chuckling gleesomely.

"Shake, old man!" he called out, grasping Ralph's hand with a switch-lever clutch that would have made his assistant wince a week back. "I guaranteed you to the company when they put you on here. The man with the iron mask just thanked me for it. Thanked me for it, just think of it—and smiled!"

"Who is the man with the iron mask?" asked Ralph innocently.

"The superintendent, of course. Ever see him? Well, they say he was born with a frown on his face, called down his father and mother when he was six months old, and spent ten years at a special actors' school where they learn the

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/396


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/35

6 H, I, K and L of Niebuhr. The I inscription enumerates the provinces of Darius: another contains the declaration that that Terrace or Fortress was built by Darius, and, 'before him there was not any fortress in that place.' Above the animals in the Porch is an inscription of Xerxes in three tablets, declaring that it was erected by him, and that it was one of the many beautiful works accomplished by him and his father Darius 'in Parsa' (Inscription D). The unilingual inscription on the sculptured staircase informs us that it also was constructed by Xerxes (Inscription A). As we ascend the south stairs to the Palace of Darius, we observe on the façade below the landing stage three tablets of inscriptions which are repeated upon the landing, on the anta in the south-west corner. It is again Xerxes who speaks, but he tells us that it was Darius who erected that palace (Inscriptions C and Ca). Passing through the great doors we observe above the king and his attendants three tablets of inscriptions. They are in the three languages and run: 'Darius, the great king, king of kings, king of nations, son of Hystaspes, the Achaemenian, has built this palace' (Inscription B). Within, round the doors and windows is a single-line inscription written on the top in Persian, ascending on the left in Susian and descending on the right hand in Babylonian (Inscription L). On the west side of this palace is a second staircase, added later, of Artaxerxes Ochus, as we learn from a magnificent inscription on the façade (Inscription P). This inscription is repeated on the stairs leading to the palace of that king. Adjoining the latter is the Palace of Xerxes, approached


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/397

Rh ebony glare, the tones that chill a fellow, and that grand stern air that makes a railroad employee shake in his boots when the superintendent passes by."

"Why, I have found him rather dignified, but a thoroughly just and genial gentleman," said Ralph.

"Thank you, Fairbanks!" interrupted a voice that made the two friends start, and the head of the superintendent of the Great Northern came up through the trap. "Quite a word-painter, Mr. Knight!" he continued, glancing at old Jack with a grim twinkle in his eye.

"Ah, overheard me, did you?" retorted Knight, never abashed at anything. "You didn't wait till I got through. I was going to add, for the benefit of our young friend here, that all the qualities I was describing have made you the most consistent, thoroughgoing railroader in the country, that back of the mask were more pensions to deserving disabled employees than the law allowed, and a justice and respect for loyal sub-ordinates that made you an honorary member of our union, and the Great Northern the finest railway system ever perfected."

"Thank you, Mr. Knight!" retorted the superintendent, a genuine flush of pleasure on his face. "I know you are sincere, so you will join me, I am

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/397


text:
Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/64

 Such were the two men whom the gonfaloniere Soderini set in opposition over a common work: the decoration of the Council Chamber of the Palace of the Seigniory. A singular combat this between the two greatest forces of the Renaissance! In May 1504 Leonardo began his cartoon of the "Battle of Anghiari." In August 1504 Michael Angelo received a commission for the cartoon of the "Battle of Cascina." Florence was divided into two camps. Time has equalised everything—both works have disappeared.

In March 1505 Michael Angelo was summoned to Rome by Julius II. Then began the heroic period of his life. Both of them violent and majestic, the Pope and the artist were made to agree, when they did not violently

title: Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/64


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/398

100 certain, in telling our young friend that the risk he took to save the special this day entitled him to a high place in the esteem of his employers and associates."

"Right you are, sir!" answered Knight emphatically. "I'm proud of Ralph Fairbanks—and so are you."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/398


text: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 12

title: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 12


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/399

was tremendously pleased at the praise of the superintendent of the Great Northern. He started for home, his work through with for the day, feeling that life was very much worth living.

He lost no time on this especial occasion in reaching the home cottage. He wanted to share his pleasure with his devoted mother.

Ralph found the front door locked. He had a key to it however, let himself in, and was wondering at this unusual absence of his mother at a regular meal hour, when he caught sight of a folded note on the little table in the hall.

"I am at Mrs. Davis'," his mother's note ran. "She is not very well, and wishes me to stay with her for a few hours. Please call for me at her house at about nine o'clock."

Entering the little dining room, Ralph found the table all set. He proceeded to the kitchen, and discovered under covers on a slow fire his meal ready to be served.

"Always kind and thoughtful," he reflected Rh

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/399


text:
Page:Discovery and Decipherment of the Trilingual Cuneiform Inscriptions.djvu/36

Rh by two principal staircases, one to the east and the other to the west. On both occur inscriptions declaring Xerxes the builder in words repeated upon the wall above and upon the anta of the great Portico (Inscription E). Entering by the great doors we see a short inscription over the king and his attendants, which is repeated over the side doors and windows and even upon the royal robe (Inscription G).

These inscriptions, as we have said, do little more than record the name of the founders, and with the exception of the I inscription, they give no other information. But they are sometimes accompanied by a religious formula consisting of two paragraphs, of which occasionally the second only is given. It runs:

1. A great god is Auramazda who has created this heaven, who has created this earth, who has created men, who has created happiness for men, who has made Darius [or Xerxes] King, the only King among many, the only ruler of many. 2. 'I am Darius [or Xerxes] the great King, the King of Kings, the King of the lands of many races, King of this great earth far and near; son of Hystaspes [or Darius] the Achaemenian.'

The inscription at Hamadan contains nothing else.

The early travellers were attracted by Naksh-i-Rustam almost as early as by the Chehel Minar. It lies, as we have said, about four miles distant, across the Polvar, and no doubt it formed part of the great city. The bas-reliefs that excited the most curiosity belong to the Sassanian period and do not concern us here; but the tombs are Achaemenian. They are executed in the face of the rock and are four in number. They are


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water-Wheel


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/400

102 gratefully, as he sat down to his solitary repast. "Nine o'clock, eh? That gives me time to attend to some pressing duties. Perhaps Mrs. Davis may have something to say about those bonds."

Ralph's mother had done her duty in seeing to it that he was not put out by her absence. He now proceeded to do his by clearing up the table and washing the dishes. He had everything in order before he left the house.

He sauntered downtown, changed a twenty-dollar bill that was among those the circus manager had given him, and started down a humble side street.

In about ten minutes Ralph reached the Stiggs home. It was a small one-story struecure, but comfortable-looking and well-kept.

In the garden was a small summerhouse. A spark of light directed Ralph thither. It appeared that Stiggs was banished from the house while using his favorite weed. This was his "smokery."

Before Ralph could announce his presence, someone spoke from an open window of the house.

"John Jacob Stiggs—smoke! smoke! smoke!" proclaimed a high-pitched voice. "I should think you'd be ashamed—at it all the time. If you are so valuable to your railroad cronies why

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/400


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/401

Rh don't you bring home a chicken, or a watermelon, or a bag of potatoes once in a while, instead of your perpetual 'plug cut,' and 'cut loaf,' and 'killmequick'? Oh, dear! dear! you are such a trial."

"That's so—never thought of that," responded Stiggs from his snuggery, in his usual quiet way. "But, my dear, something is coming. Some money—you know I told you."

"Nonsense!" retorted Mrs. Stiggs violently. "They stuff you full of all kinds of stories. Last week you said they were going to make you master mechanic."

"I declined it! I declined it!" answered Stiggs in quick trepidation. "The responsibility of the position—think of it, my dear!"

"Well, I suppose you're my cross," sighed his helpmate patiently. "Only, don't get a woman's hopes all alive with your story of five dollars coming, and a new shawl for me."

"Ten, my dear," interrupted Stiggs. "I've quite forgotten the amount, but I am sure it was more than five. You see, I helped catch a tiger"

"John Jacob Stiggs!" cried his wife severely, "you'd better keep those wild notions out of your head. Tigers! Who ever saw a tiger in Stanley Junction?" she sniffed disdainfully.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/401


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Water-Works


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/402

104 "Why, I did, Mrs. Stiggs," broke in Ralph, stepping to the window with a pleasant smile, and lifting his cap politely. "It escaped from the circus now in town. Your husband helped me get it into the hands of the show people, they paid us fifty dollars' reward for our services, and half of it belongs to Mr. Stiggs. There is his share, madam."

"Laws-a-mercy!" cried the astounded woman, as the crisp green bills were placed on the window ledge. "You don't mean"

"Twenty-five dollars," nodded Ralph.

"His? mine? ours?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stiggs. You can have a famous new shawl now, can't you, madam?"

"Oh, come in. Oh, dear! dear! it don't seem real."

Ralph stepped around to the door and entered the little sitting room. Mrs. Stiggs could not keep still for excitement. She was laughing and crying by turns.

Old Stiggs followed after Ralph in a kind of dumb amazement, and stood staring at the banknotes in his wife's hand. She chanced to observe him. For the first time in his life, it seemed, her husband had ventured inside the house smoking his despised tobacco.

"John—Jacob—Stiggs!" she screamed.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/402


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/403

Rh "Oh—my!" gasped the horrified culprit.

The lighted pipe dropped from his mouth, and he bolted out of doors as if shot from a cannon.

Mrs. Stiggs was profuse in her thanks. She got more coherent, and poured out her little troubles to Ralph, who was a sympathetic listener. He gave her some advice, and his heart warmed as he finally left the house, happy in the consciousness that he had bestowed some pleasure and benefit where he felt sure they were fully deserved.

"Anybody but mother would call me a chump for what I've got to do next," he mused, as he proceeded briskly in the direction of lower Railroad Street, "but I've got the impulse, and it looks clear to me that I'm doing the right thing all around."

Ralph proceeded past the long line of poor buildings just back of the depot tracks. He looked into the restaurant where he had found Mort Bemis and Young Slavin some evenings previous.

They were not in evidence now, however, at this or other places he inspected. Ralph made inquiries of some "extras," who had a good deal of spare time, and were likely to know the denizens of Railroad Row.

No one could tell him of the whereabouts of the

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/403


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watson, John


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/404

106 persons he sought, until he met a young urchin whom he questioned.

"Slavin?" pronounced the precious street arab. "Champeen? He's at Murphy's shed."

A man named Murphy ran a cheap ice cream place further down the street, Ralph remembered. The shed he also recalled as a loafing place for juvenile road hands around the noon and evening hours.

It was a great open structure where expressmen stored their wagons for shelter. Ralph reached its proximity in a few minutes. He glanced around the open end of the place.

Three or four boys were squatted on the ground. Two of them had a coat and a vest, on which they were clumsily sewing. Near by, wrapped in an old horse-blanket, seated on a box, his eyes fixed gloomily on the ground, was the object of Ralph's visit—Young Slavin.

Ralph went forward at once. Two of the group sprang to their feet, startled. Young Slavin, looking spiritless and cowed, craned his bull neck in silent wonder and uncertainty.

"Mr. Slavin," spoke Ralph promptly, "I have been trying to find you."

"What for?" mumbled Slavin in a muffled tone. "I'm ripped up the back. Out of training—see you later."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/404


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watson, John Crittenden


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/405

Rh "Oh, I haven't come to fight," Ralph assured him. "It is this way: I saw you meet with an unfortunate accident this afternoon."

"If you mean you made rags of the only suit of clothes I've got, it's correct," admitted Slavin dejectedly.

"Well, I warned you, but you would rush on your fate," said Ralph. "Pretty badly used up, are they?"

"Are they?" snorted Slavin bitterly. "They were ripped from stem to stern. And what's worse—look at them now!"

Ralph could scarcely keep from laughing outright. One of the amateur tailors had essayed to mend Slavin's trousers.

He had taken up a seam four inches wide. In pursuing the seam, he had sewed it into bunches, knobs, and fissures. One leg was shorter than the other, and stood out at an angle from the knee down.

"No, that won't do at all," said Ralph gravely. "I felt sorry for you, Slavin. As I warned you, that tiger was in the switch tower. I got a reward for telling the circus people where it was, and I think it is only fair that they pay for the damage the animal did. They advertise a good eight-dollar suit down at the Grand Leader. Go and get one. That squares it, doesn't it?"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/405


text: The New Student's Reference Work/Watson, Thomas


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/406

108 Ralph extended a ten-dollar bill to Slavin. The eyes of his engrossed companions snapped at the sight of so much money. As for Slavin himself, he stared at the bill and then at Ralph in stupid wonder.

"Take it," urged Ralph.

"Mine?" gulped Slavin slowly.

"Of course it's yours."

"You give it?"

"Why not? I collected damages from the circus people—that's your share."

Slavin's fingers trembled as he took the proffered banknote. He wriggled restively, looked up, and then looked down.

"Say," he spoke hoarsely at last, "your name is Fairbanks."

"Yes," nodded Ralph.

"A good name, and you're a good sort. I jumped on you wrong the other night, and I want to say it right here. I thought Mort Bemis was my friend. This afternoon he took up with a fellow named Slump, broke open my trunk, stole two of my silver medals, and sloped. That's what I got for being his friend. Now you come and do me a good turn. I'm not your kind, and we can't ever mix probably, but if ever you want anyone hammered, I'll be there. See? I'm—I'm obliged to you, Fairbanks. You've taught me

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/406


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/407

Rh something. There's something better in the world than muscle—and you've got it."

When Ralph left the old shed, he was pretty certain that he had made a new friend. He had, too, won the respect of the little coterie who had seen the terrible "champeen" eat humble pie before a fellow half his size.

Ralph went to a millinery store next. The Saturday evening before he had accompanied his mother on her shopping tour. She had admired a hat in a show-window, but had said she could not spare the money for it just then.

Ralph proudly walked home with the self-same hat in a band-box.

"I have made quite a hole in that fifty dollars," he mused, as he left the band-box at the home cottage, and started for Mrs. Davis' house. "I wonder if I would be as extravagant on a bigger scale, if we should be fortunate enough to get back those twenty thousand dollars' worth of railroad bonds?"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/407


text: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 13

title: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 13


text: Index:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/408

nearest cut to the house where Mrs. Davis lived was along a sort of a ravine, and Ralph pursued this route. It was the shortest, and it was here that the switch spur was to run up to Gasper Farrington's old factory.

Ralph was interested in this as a railroader. The work of grading had already commenced. It was not to be a very particular job, as the service would be only occasional. The company was using old rails and second-hand ties.

There was a natural rock shelf on the north side of the ravine. This the roadbed would follow. There were several sharp grades, but there would be no heavy traffic. The entire factory output, which was in the furniture line, would not exceed a carload a day.

Mrs. Davis' home stood back from the ravine about a hundred feet. It was some three hundred yards from the factory building. Between it and the latter structure was a low two-story house, very old and dilapidated. Ralph Rh

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/408


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/409

Rh if this was the spot which Farrington had said he would appropriate, law or no law, as the connecting link in his right of way.

"Mr. Farrington may well look out for wrecks," soliloquized Ralph, as he passed along the ravine. "The freight business from the factory is not worth enough for the company to put in a first-class roadbed. A poor one means danger. They will have to go slow on some of those mean curves and crooked grades, if they want to avoid trouble."

Ralph turned from the ravine as he caught the gleam of a light in the house he knew to be occupied by the mysterious Mrs. Davis.

It was a desolate place, and he felt sorry for anyone compelled to live so remote from neighbors. He felt glad, however, that the lonely widow had been so fortunate as to find a friend in his mother.

Mrs. Davis had proven her honesty by wishing to repay him the ten-dollar loan. Ralph in a way counted that evening on some intimation concerning the twenty thousand dollars railroad bonds. He was naturally wrought up and anxious over this particular phase of the situation.

The house did not front on the ravine. In approaching it, Ralph came up to its side first. The light that had guided him was in a middle room.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/409


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/410

112 Its window was open and the shade was lowered, but the breeze blew it back every little while.

It was a bright moonlight night. Ralph could make out the house and its surroundings as plain as day. As he walked beside a hedge of high alders, he paused with a start.

Someone stood directly beside the open window where the light was. The house shadowed him, but even at a distance Ralph could see that the lurker was a boy about his own height.

This person stood with his face to the window. Every time the breeze moved the curtain, he bobbed about actively. He craned his neck, and made all kinds of efforts to look into the room.

"Why," said Ralph indignantly, "it is someone spying!"

The breeze freshening, the curtain was just then blown on a forty-five degree slant. A perfectly plain view of the room and its inmates was momentarily shown.

Even at a distance Ralph could make out Mrs. Davis propped up in a chair with pillows, and his mother seated near by.

The lurker at the window was taking a good clear look. He suddenly whipped a card out of his pocket. He glanced at it quickly, then inside the room again. The breeze let down, and the curtain dropped plumb once more.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/410


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/411

Rh Ralph made an impetuous run for the window. He came up to the lurker, grabbed his arm, and still at full momentum ran him twenty feet along from the window. He did not wish to startle the inmates of the house. The astonished boy he had seized Ralph landed against the side of a summerhouse. He never let go of him. His prisoner wriggled in his grasp.

"Hey, what's this?" he began.

"Who are you and what are you up to?" challenged Ralph sharply. "What!" he cried, loosening his hold in stupefaction. "Van—Van Sherwin!"

"Hello!" muttered his companion, now faced squarely about, and staring in turn. "It is you, Fairbanks? Well, that's natural, seeing your mother is here, but you took me off my feet so sudden. Shake. You don't seem glad to see me one bit, although it's an age since I met you last. How goes it?"

Ralph shook the hand affectionately extended. It was not the hearty greeting, however, he usually awarded to this his warmest boy friend. Ralph looked grave, uncertain, and disappointed.

Of all the chums he had ever known, Van Sherwin had come into his life in a way that had appealed strongly to every friendly sentiment. Deprived of reason temporarily through a blow

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/411


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/412

114 from a baseball, and practically adopted by the Fairbanks family, Van's gentle, lovable ways had charmed them. When he recovered his reason and was the means of introducing Ralph to Farwell Gibson, Van was cherished like a brother by Ralph.

Less than two weeks previous Van had gone back to the wilderness stretch beyond Springfield, where Gibson was keeping his railroad cut-off charter alive by grading the roadbed so much each day, as required by law.

Through Gibson Ralph had got the information that enabled them to prove Gasper Farrington's mortgage on their home a fraud. Naturally he felt thankful to the queer old hermit who was working out an idea amid Crusoe-like solitude.

As to Van,—mother and son made him a daily topic of conversation. They had longed for a visit from the strange, wild lad who had unconsciously brought so much good into their lives.

Now Van had appeared, yet a vague distrust and disappointment chilled the warmth of Ralph's reception. Van had always been frank, open-minded, aboveboard. Ralph had just discovered him apparently engaged in eavesdropping.

Thinking all this over, Ralph stood grim and

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/412


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/413

Rh silent as a statue for the space of nearly two minutes.

"Hey!" challenged Van suddenly, giving his arm a vigorous shake. "Are you dreaming, Ralph?"

Ralph roused himself. He determined to clear the situation, if it could be cleared.

"Van," he said definitely, "what were you doing at that window?"

"Why, didn't you see—looking in."

"I know you was. In other words, spying. Oh, Van—spying on my mother!"

Van Sherwin's eyes flashed. In a trice he had whipped off his coat. His fists doubled up. He advanced on Ralph, his voice shaking with an angry sob.

"Take that back, Ralph Fairbanks!" he cried. "Do it quick, or you've got to lick me. Me spy on your mother? Why, she's pretty near my mother, too—the only one I ever remember."

"But I saw you lurking at that window," said Ralph, a good deal taken aback by Van's violent demonstration.

"Lurking, eh?" repeated Van sarcastically. "I'm a lurker, am I? And a spy? Why don't you call me a bravo—and a brigand? Humph—you chump!"

The impulsive fellow shrugged his shoulders

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/413


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/414

116 in such a pitying, indulgent way that Ralph was fairly nettled.

"I won't fight you," declared Van, putting on his coat again. "You think so much of your mother that I'll forgive you. But I think a lot of her, too, as you well know, and, knowing it, you ought to have thought twice before you—yes, imputed to me any action that could do her any harm."

"You're right, Van," said Ralph, grasping both hands of his eccentric chum, heartily enough this time. "I am so strung up, though, with things happening, and so much suspicion and mystery in the air, that I'm jumping to all kinds of conclusions helter-skelter. I hate mystery, you know."

"Sit down," said Van, moving around to the door of the dismantled summerhouse, and dropping to its worm-eaten seat. "I want to tell you something. I wasn't looking in that window expecting to see your mother."

"No?"

"Not at all."

"Then it must have been Mrs. Davis, the woman who lives there."

"Is that her name?" inquired Van, with a shrewd smile.

"She says it is."

"You know her, then? Well, I don't, Ralph.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/414


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/415

Rh Never saw her before. Yet, I've traveled a long distance to get a look at her. See here—can you make it out?"

Van took from his pocket the card Ralph had seen him consult at the window. Ralph held it up to the moonlight.

It was an old-fashioned card photograph. Judging from its yellow, faded appearance, it seemed taken in another generation. It presented the face of a woman of about thirty years of age.

Ralph scanned this with a certain token of recognition.

"This picture resembles Mrs. Davis," he said.

"Think so?" asked Van. "I know it does. It's meant for the lady in that room yonder—when she was younger, though."

"How do you come by it?" inquired Ralph.

"It's a secret for the present, but I don't mind telling you. A friend—a long distance away—asked me to locate the original of that picture. Somehow he got a clew to the fact that she was living in this district."

"Yes, she came to Stanley Junction recently."

"Anyhow, I followed out directions," narrated Van. "I've done what I came for. The woman lives in that house yonder. I must go back and inform my friend."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/415


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/416

118 "Not right away. Mother will want to see you, Van."

Van shook his head resolutely.

"I'll be back again soon, Ralph," he promised. "I wish I could tell you more, but it's not my business."

"That's all right. Van. I don't want to pry into your secrets."

Van restored the picture to his pocket. He sighed with a glance at the house, as if it would indeed be a pleasure to have a chat with his adopted mother, Mrs. Fairbanks.

"Oh, Ralph!" he said suddenly, checking himself as he was about to move away—"have you ever heard anything more about those twenty thousand dollars railroad bonds?"

"Have I?" spoke Ralph animately; "I seem to be hearing about them every step I take, lately!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, but always in a vague, unsatisfactory way. What made you ask that question, Van?" inquired Ralph, with a keen glance at his companion.

"Oh, nothing," declared Van carelessly. "I was just thinking, that's all. You see, Mr. Gibson is a rare, good fellow."

"He did me some rare, good service—I know that," said Ralph warmly.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/416


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/417

Rh "Well, he's pegging away at that railroad of his, wasting valuable time. He don't dare to leave it, because he might vi—vi—bother the word—oh, yes! vitiate his legal rights. He told me, though, that if he could get someone to put up a few thousand dollars so he could hire help, he would go to some big city and interest capital and rush the road through."

"I will bear that in mind," said Ralph thoughtfully. "I believe he has the nucleus of a big speculation. There are rich men in Stanley Junction who might be induced to help him."

"Suppose you got those twenty thousand dollars bonds, Ralph," said Van suddenly. "Would you be inclined to invest?"

"I would feel it a duty, Van," responded Ralph promptly. "I believe my mother would, too. You will remember that if it was not for Mr. Gibson, we would probably be without a home to-day."

"You're a good fellow, Ralph Fairbanks!" cried Van, slapping his chum heartily on the shoulder. "I knew you'd say that. And say—I guess you're going to hear something about those bonds, soon."

"The air seems full of those bonds!" half smiled Ralph. "I wish something besides shadows would materialize, though."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/417


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/418

120 Ralph felt that Van was keeping something back—certainly about the person so interested in the mysterious Mrs. Davis, possibly in reference to the railroad bonds, as well.

Before he could express himself further, Van grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the shelter of the summerhouse with a quick warning:

"S-sh!"

"What is it, Van?" inquired Ralph in surprise.

"Speak low, look sharp!" whispered Van, pointing through the interstices of the trellis in the direction of the house. "You hate mystery, you say. Then how does that strike you?"

"Why," exclaimed Ralph, after a steadfast glance in the direction indicated—"it is Gasper Farrington!"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/418


text: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 14

title: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 14


text:
Author:William Alexander Lindsay

Works

 * "Peerage Cases", The Ancestor, no. 1 (1902), pp. 112–118.
 * (in part)

title: Author:William Alexander Lindsay


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/419

did not have to look twice to be sure that it was the village magnate who stood just where he had discovered Van Sherwin a few minutes previous.

Gasper Farrington was stooping stealthily under the open window. He did not seem to care so much to see who was inside. Perhaps he had already seen. His whole attitude showed that he was listening intently.

Ralph disliked Farrington. He had reason for the sentiment. He could not recall one gracious action on the part of the miserly old man in all the years he had known him.

His present occupation, that of an eavesdropper, was so expected and characteristic of Farrington, that Ralph's indignation was less than his contempt.

"What is he after here?" reflected Ralph; "no good, of course. Mrs. Davis knows him and fears him, it seems. He is going."

Before Ralph could make up his mind to any Rh

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/419


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/420

122 definite course of action, Farrington, after a meditative pause, slunk from under the window. Then he disappeared briskly around the corner of the house.

Ralph ran softly after him and peered around the end of the structure. He saw Farrington headed for town, across lots to the nearest highway.

Ralph came back to the old summer house to find Van gone. He looked for him, even tried a whistle signal both understood, but obtained no response.

"It's all a queer affair," mused Ralph. "Mrs. Davis seems to be a great center of interest just at present. Perhaps she has told mother something that explains matters."

Ralph was doomed to disappointment in this hope. When he knocked at the door of the Davis home, his mother answered the summons.

"Mrs. Davis is resting nicely," she whispered. "It would only excite her to see you to-night. Just wait outside, and I will slip away and join you in a few minutes."

Mrs. Fairbanks was soon on the way homeward with Ralph. She explained that Mrs. Davis was quite unwell and nervous. She had stayed with her and nursed her, and left her comfortable for the night.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/420


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/421

Rh "She gave me the ten dollars for you, Ralph," said Mrs. Fairbanks, "but she said very little about the bonds. I have an idea that she knows something about them, and I think she has been writing to Gasper Farrington. The last thing she said as I left her, was for both of us to come to see her to-morrow night. She said she would get something in the meantime she had placed with a friend to show us, in which we would both be interested."

Ralph said nothing to his mother about meeting Van, nor did he mention Farrington's visit to the Davis home. He did not wish to worry his mother, and he hoped that another twenty-four hours might somewhat clear the situation.

Of course Mrs. Fairbanks was more than pleased over her present of the new hat. Her son's recital of the tiger episode frightened and thrilled her by turns.

Ralph did a good deal of thinking after getting to bed. He wondered if Mrs. Davis was up to any double-dealing. Perhaps she knew something of importance about the bonds. She might have come to Stanley Junction to sell her secret to Farrington. Possibly later she became undecided as to her course, her accidental meeting with Ralph moving her to favor him in the matter.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/421


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/422

124 Ralph guessed that no one but Farwell Gibson could have sent Van to Stanley Junction. Gibson had been mixed up in the matter of his father's railroad bonds, years back. Was there some kind of a three-cornered complication, in which Farrington, Gibson, and Mrs. Davis each had a share, and all three playing at cross-purposes?

At ten o'clock that night the local newspaper left the press, weighted with the biggest sensation of the year, but Ralph did not know it.

He was made aware of it next morning, however, as he left the house. Ned Talcott, an old school chum, came running up to him fluttering a freshly-printed sheet.

"Did you see it? Did you really do all that?" he demanded, in breathless excitement.

"See what—do what?" inquired Ralph.

"Well, just run your eagle eye over these two front columns!" chuckled Ralph's ardent admirer.

"Oh, dear!" said Ralph, in faint stupefaction.

The ambitious newspaper reporter had dished up a wonderfully graphic and interesting story. He did not seem to have missed a point in the episode of the escaped circus tiger.

He had got every fact about the special, every detail of Ralph's encounter with Calcutta Tom, the sensational climb of the telegraph pole, the swing of the lever just in time. He even touched

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/422


text:
User talk:196.221.103.131

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to Wikisource! Thank you for your contributions. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:

 * Help pages
 * Style Guide
 * Inclusion policy

You are welcome to continue editing articles without logging in, but you may wish to  [ create an account] . Doing so is free, requires no personal information, and provides several benefits. For one thing, if you continue to edit without a username, your IP address is used to publicly identify you.

In any case, I hope you enjoy donating your time to grow the Wikisource library that is free for everyone to use! In discussions, please sign your comments using four tildes ( ~ ); this will automatically produce your IP address (or username if you're logged in) and the date. If you need help, ask me on my talk page, or ask your question here (click  [ edit] ) and place  before your question. Again, welcome! — billinghurst  sDrewth  00:06, 6 June 2011 (UTC)

title: User talk:196.221.103.131


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/423

Rh on the accident to Young Slavin, Ralph's benevolence to that enemy, and his generous division of the reward with the Stiggses.

"Whew!" gasped Ralph, concluding the article with a whirling head. "Why, if I wasn't mad at all the bosh he has put into this screed, I could laugh—it is simply ridiculous!"

All the same, the reporter had written a very entertaining article. It was the "fancy touches" that seemed preposterous to Ralph, who had gone through the episode practically.

All through the story the writer held the tension high as to suspense and impending peril. He made the reader fairly see the glaring eyeballs of the defiant tiger. He almost made him hear the wild beatings of the heart of the desperate but intrepid young leverman.

The warning shrieks of the devoted special on the verge of destruction, the nearing hiss and splutter of the steam jets, the thunderous thunder of the grinding wheels—all these were the thrilling concomitants of a breathless description. It ended in the crash of the tower window, the leap to the levers, the action that made of Ralph Fairbanks the hero of the hour.

The grand finale was a pathetic touch. It alluded to the great throbbing heart of humanity always electrically responsive to such appeals as

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/423


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/424

126 that involved in the anxious chaste of the distressed railroad president to reach a beloved wife at the door of death.

Three people whom Ralph knew stopped him to congratulate him before he reached the depot yards.

A cheer greeted him as he crossed from Railroad Street to the switch tower. It came from a flag-shanty, where four of his firemen friends were standing. Two of them waved papers. Ralph laughed and nodded carelessly, but flushed with pleasure.

"There's two men I would like to have see that article," spoke old Jack Knight, emphatically slapping the newspaper in his lap as Ralph came on duty. "One is the master mechanic. The other is that old skeesicks, Farrington."

Ralph was embarrassed by further congratulations all through the morning. He had a pleasant day, however. The praises of his real friends were very sweet, and the sense of duty well done was a spur to his noblest ambitions.

It was toward five o'clock that the crowning episode of the day occurred. Ralph was busy at the levers, Knight was at the telephone, as the superintendent came up the trap ladder.

His manner to both these valued employees was more than usually genial.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/424


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/425

Rh "Dropped in on my way to the roundhouse," he observed. "I received a wire from the president of the Great Northern about an hour ago, Fairbanks."

"Yes, sir?" said Ralph, wondering what was coming.

Shrewd Jack Knight gave a wise chuckle, and his eyes twinkled.

"He mentioned you," pursued the superintendent. "He sent a long wire, requesting an expression of his thanks for prompt service all along the line. He added a paragraph that may interest you. As I take you to be too practical a young man to get the swelled head, or impose on an appreciation of duty well done, I will read the paragraph to you."

The speaker drew a typewritten yellow sheet from his pocket. He resumed:

"The president says: 'I imagine that by young Ralph Fairbanks, who has shown such devotion to his duty and saved the special under such extraordinary circumstances, the intelligence will be gladly received that my timely arrival at home probably saved my dear wife's life. The morning papers here have a full account of his remarkable adventures at the switch tower. I desire that you commend him warmly in my behalf, and it is the sense of the road directors that, while

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/425


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/426

128 you do not promote him too fast, you must see that he gets what he deserves promptly."

Ralph flushed with emotion. He could not speak.

"Good!" commented blunt old Jack. "The president is a brick. You're another one, Mr. Superintendent, and you don't lose, let me tell you, by warming up a thrifty employee's heart by giving him the real stuff, right from the shoulder, when he deserves it."

The superintendent smiled and bowed, and went on his way.

"Stiff as a poker, looks as if his only thought was to catch a chance to fire someone," observed Knight, watching the prim, dignified official crossing the tracks below. "Look at him—cold as an iceberg. You've thawed him out, though, Fairbanks!" chuckled the veteran towerman. "That's so—there is something I wanted to find out."

He pretended to be mightily busy poring over a little red memorandum book for a few minutes.

"Got it," he called out finally: "Chief Train Dispatcher. One hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. Keep it in view, kid. You heard what the president said."

"Nonsense!" flushed Ralph; "my highest ambition for a long time to come is to run a locomotive."

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/426


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/427

Rh Mrs. Fairbanks regarded her son with humid eyes as he told the story of the day that night.

She did not try to express her emotion. She could not. Ever since Ralph had resolutely started at work, there had been what she greeted as a continual round of blessings. And Ralph shared her heartfelt gratefulness.

Right after supper they started together to visit Mrs. Davis. Ralph carried a basket which contained some dainties his mother had prepared for the invalid.

On their way Ralph told his mother of the suspicious circumstances of Gasper Farrington's visit to the Davis home the evening previous. He thought she ought now to know of it. He intimated, too, that it might be wise to warn Mrs. Davis.

"If she would only talk out what is evidently preying on her mind," observed Mrs. Fairbanks, "we could understand the situation much more clearly."

"You know she has promised to enlighten us in a way, this evening," suggested Ralph.

"The house is dark," said his mother, as they neared it.

"Yes, and—why, mother! the door is open."

Ralph knocked loudly. There was no response.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/427


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/428

130 "I hope nothing is amiss," murmured Mrs. Fairbanks, in a fluttering tone.

She groped her way down the dark hall and into the sitting room, stumbling over some garments lying on the floor which nearly tripped her up.

"Mrs. Davis! Mrs. Davis!" she called, "are you here?"

Again there was only silence. Mrs. Fairbanks sighed with deep suspense.

"Perhaps I had better get a light," suggested Ralph.

"I wish you would," said his mother. Ralph flared a match. He discovered a lamp on a mantel-shelf and lighted it. Mother and son glanced about the apartment searchingly.

On the floor lay the heavy shawl Mrs. Fairbanks had stumbled over. A little table was overturned. A drapery that had festooned the entrance doorway from the hall was torn half loose, as if someone had grasped it in being dragged from the room.

"That looks bad," said Ralph gravely.

He took up the lamp and went all through the house. In the one upper chamber the contents of the bureau drawer were scattered all over the floor. A trunk was broken open, and its interior all in disorder.

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/428


text:
Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/429

Rh "Is she here, Ralph?" questioned his mother anxiously, as he returned to the sitting room.

"No," answered Ralph. "Mother, there is foul play here."

"Oh, Ralph!"

"I am sure of it. Someone has ransacked the house, and I believe they have kidnapped Mrs. Davis."

"But—why?" stammered the affrighted Mrs. Fairbanks.

"Why?" cried Ralph, greatly stirred up by tumultuous thoughts and suspicions that irresistibly thronged his brain. "To secure something that Mrs. Davis had in her keeping, I believe."

"But who would do it?"

"Who?" responded Ralph. "I can imagine only one person who might be interested."

"And that is?"

"Gasper Farrington."

"Right!" pronounced a new voice, startlingly near. "You have hit the nail squarely on the head this time, Ralph Fairbanks!"

title: Page:Ralph on the Railroad.djvu/429


text: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 15

title: Ralph in the Switch Tower/Chapter 15


text: Index:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 3.djvu


text: Index:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 4.djvu


text: Index:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 5.djvu


text:
Template:Works of Charles Dickens volumes

v1 — v2 — v3 — v4 — v5 — v6 — v7 — v8 — v9 — v10

v11 — v12 — v13 — v14 — v15 — v16 — v17 — v18 — v19 — v20

v21 — v22 — v23 — v24 — v25 — v26 — v27 — v28 — v29 — v30

v31 — v32 — v33 — v34


text:
Template:Works of Charles Dickens volumes/doc

Usage
Template to list volumes of The Works of Charles Dickens


text: Index:Amazing Stories Volume 01 Number 01.djvu


text:
User talk:66.191.183.95

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to Wikisource! Thank you for your contributions. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:

 * Help pages
 * Style Guide
 * Inclusion policy

You are welcome to continue editing articles without logging in, but you may wish to  [ create an account] . Doing so is free, requires no personal information, and provides several benefits. For one thing, if you continue to edit without a username, your IP address is used to publicly identify you.

In any case, I hope you enjoy donating your time to grow the Wikisource library that is free for everyone to use! In discussions, please sign your comments using four tildes ( ~ ); this will automatically produce your IP address (or username if you're logged in) and the date. If you need help, ask me on my talk page, or ask your question here (click  [ edit] ) and place  before your question. Again, welcome! — billinghurst  sDrewth  00:48, 6 June 2011 (UTC)

title: User talk:66.191.183.95


text:
User talk:LanguageMan~enwikisource

— billinghurst  sDrewth  00:48, 6 June 2011 (UTC)

Your account will be renamed
Hello,

The developer team at Wikimedia is making some changes to how accounts work, as part of our on-going efforts to provide new and better tools for our users like cross-wiki notifications. These changes will mean you have the same account name everywhere. This will let us give you new features that will help you edit and discuss better, and allow more flexible user permissions for tools. One of the side-effects of this is that user accounts will now have to be unique across all 900 Wikimedia wikis. See the announcement for more information.

Unfortunately, your account clashes with another account also called LanguageMan. To make sure that both of you can use all Wikimedia projects in future, we have reserved the name LanguageMan~enwikisource that only you will have. If you like it, you don't have to do anything. If you do not like it, you can pick out a different name.

Your account will still work as before, and you will be credited for all your edits made so far, but you will have to use the new account name when you log in.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

Yours, Keegan Peterzell Community Liaison, Wikimedia Foundation 23:28, 17 March 2015 (UTC)

Renamed
 This account has been renamed as part of single-user login finalisation. If you own this account you can |log in using your previous username and password for more information. If you do not like this account's new name, you can choose your own using this form after logging in: . -- Keegan (WMF) (talk) 06:46, 21 April 2015 (UTC)

title: User talk:LanguageMan~enwikisource


text:
User talk:139.80.94.23

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to Wikisource! Thank you for your contributions. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:

 * Help pages
 * Style Guide
 * Inclusion policy

You are welcome to continue editing articles without logging in, but you may wish to  [ create an account] . Doing so is free, requires no personal information, and provides several benefits. For one thing, if you continue to edit without a username, your IP address is used to publicly identify you.

In any case, I hope you enjoy donating your time to grow the Wikisource library that is free for everyone to use! In discussions, please sign your comments using four tildes ( ~ ); this will automatically produce your IP address (or username if you're logged in) and the date. If you need help, ask me on my talk page, or ask your question here (click  [ edit] ) and place  before your question. Again, welcome! — billinghurst  sDrewth  00:49, 6 June 2011 (UTC)

title: User talk:139.80.94.23


text:
The Yellow Book

 * /Volume 1/
 * /Volume 2/
 * /Volume 3/
 * /Volume 4/
 * /Volume 5/
 * /Volume 6/
 * /Volume 7/
 * /Volume 8/
 * /Volume 9/
 * /Volume 10/
 * /Volume 11/
 * /Volume 12/
 * /Volume 13/

title: The Yellow Book