text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Industrial Councils

INDUSTRIAL COUNCILS .—The formation of joint industrial councils (or, as they are commonly called, “Whitley Councils”) has been one of the most important sequels of wartime developments in the attempt to adjust the relations of employers and employees in the organization of British industry. These joint industrial councils are bodies representing, usually in equal numbers, the organized employers and employees in the particular industries concerned; and they are the outcome of the recommendation made for this purpose by a committee (which became a sub-committee of the Reconstruction Committee) appointed in 1916 by Mr. Asquith, as Prime Minister, and presided over by Mr. J. H. Whitley, M.P. (then Chairman of Committees in the House of Commons), the reference being:—

The Whitley Committee was composed of well-known representatives of trade unions and employers' associations experienced in collective negotiations, with certain public men and women not directly associated with the interests of employers or employed. One of the most important developments in the improvement of industrial relations before the World War had been the establishment of voluntary conciliation boards or machinery for the settlement of labour disputes, and, in the course of a considerable number of years, such bodies or machinery had been established in most of the well-organized trades in the United Kingdom. Along with the great body of collective regulations established over a long period of years, this machinery was practically for the time being set aside by war conditions, which at the same time produced a remarkable growth in trade-union organization, and necessitated much consultation between the Government and representative bodies of employers and trade-unionists, who were also often associated in official boards of control, such as the Cotton Control Board.

When the Whitley Committee was appointed it was widely recognized that a permanent solution of the “Capital and Labour” question was one of the most important of the social and industrial problems of the post-war reconstruction, with a view to which first the Reconstruction Committee and later the Ministry of Reconstruction were formed. The origins of a few of the councils may be carried back, however, to a time before the appointment of the Whitley Committee, or even, in idea at least,

to before the outbreak of war; and these origins are to be found in the desire of certain groups of individuals, with knowledge or experience of industrial disputes, to create some new form of joint organization which would unite the employers and employees in an industry in coöperation for common ends. Thus, the conception of a building-trades parliament may be traced back to 1914. Again, a national painters' and decorators' joint council was formed in the winter of 1916-7, before the publication of the first Whitley report. Before also the Whitley Committee reported, the activities initiated by certain private individuals interested in industrial matters, leading up to the formation of the Pottery Joint Industrial Council (the first of the officially recognized Whitley Councils), had been in progress for some time.

Here it may be noted that the name “Industrial Council” has been applied to other bodies which must not be confused with the joint industrial councils set up through the Whitley report, though they have certain connexions with these councils. Further reference to these bodies is made at the end of this article.

The Whitley Committee presented an interim report on joint standing industrial councils in March 1917 (Cd. 8606). In this report they recommended that, so far as the main industries of the country, in which there existed representative organizations of employers and employees, were concerned, the best way to deal with the first point in the terms of reference was to settle the second point, and for this latter they proposed the institution of joint standing industrial councils. The proposed councils were to be joint, so as to bring employers and workpeople together; standing, to ensure the regular discussion of matters of common interest; and industrial—that is, formed on an “industrial” rather than a trade or craft basis. In order to secure the realization of what may be considered the fundamental idea of “continuous coöperation in the promotion of industry” the committee recommended that, in addition to national joint industrial councils covering complete national industries, there should be formed also district councils and works committees. It was contemplated that the machinery should be decentralized, the district councils dealing with district matters within the limits laid down by a national council for the industry, and the works committees dealing in the same way with questions peculiar to the individual workshop or not of general concern. A fundamental condition affecting the formation of the councils was that the members should be chosen exclusively from the trade unions of the workpeople and the associations of the employers; this first report had reference only to well-organized industry, and the scheme outlined was not considered applicable where organization was weak or non-existent. Following its circulation to all the principal trade unions and employers' associations, the report was adopted by the Government in Oct. 1917 as part of its industrial policy. At the same time the Government decided to recognize the industrial councils as standing consultative committees for their industries.

The Minister of Labour was charged with the duty of providing the industries with assistance in the formation of councils, and the first joint industrial council to be officially recognized was that formed in the pottery industry in Jan. 1918. The following list includes all the councils which had been officially recognized up to the end of Jan. 1921, at which time, however, 11 of the councils listed had more or less definitely broken down (these being marked by an asterisk). The operations of several others were intermittent, a principal reason for the failures being lack of adequate organization.

In the formation of nearly all these 65 councils a main part taken by the Ministry of Labour, which arranged conferences and carried through the often difficult and prolonged work of negotiation between the various associations of employers or workpeople concerned. Of the 65, 20 were formed in 1918, 30 in 1919, and the remainder during the next 13 months.

On Oct. 18 1918 the Whitley Committee presented a second report on joint industrial councils (Cd. 9002). This recommended, for trades where organization was very weak or non-existent, an adaptation and expansion of the system of trade boards, working under an amended Trade Boards Act, and, in trades in which organization was considerable but not yet general, a system of joint councils with some Government assistance which might be dispensed with as the industries advanced to the stage of organization contemplated in the first report for joint standing industrial councils. The second, unlike the first report, was not completely adopted by the Government. In June 1918 a joint memorandum on the proposals contained in the second report was issued by the Minister of Labour and the Minister of Reconstruction. This memorandum emphasized the desirability of separating as completely as possible the trade board and the joint industrial council forms of organization, so as to develop the voluntary bodies only where the degree of organization warranted them, and the trade boards only where lack of organization made the statutory regulation of wages necessary.

In the meantime, for the purpose of consultation on questions of industrial reconstruction, it had been agreed by the Minister of Reconstruction, the Minister of Labour and the President of

the Board of Trade that representative joint bodies should be formed on a less restricted basis than was contemplated in the first Whitley report. These interim industrial reconstruction committees, as the joint bodies were called, were begun to be established by the Ministry of Reconstruction in the beginning of 1918. They differed from joint industrial councils in that they were not intended to be permanent, and in that they were often formed in industries which had insufficient organization for joint industrial councils. They resembled joint industrial councils in being purely voluntary bodies and in the fact that their members were representatives of organizations of employers and workpeople. The formation of these interim committees did not violate the agreement as to policy contained in the joint memorandum referred to above, since the committees were formed primarily for special and temporary purposes, and were not meant to be permanent. It was contemplated that in some industries joint industrial councils would develop out of the interim committees as organization improved and, where organization remained weak, the existence of such a committee or any other voluntary body could not prejudice the power of the Minister of Labour to establish a trade board. A considerable number of such interim committees were formed. Several of these became joint industrial councils, some continued to operate as interim committees, while others had by 1921 ceased to exist, and in a number of the industries affected trade boards have since been formed.

Other Bodies.—The name “Industrial Council” has been applied in two important instances to bodies other than Whitley councils. In Oct. 1911, following upon the transport and other strikes of that year, an addition was made by the Government to

the official machinery applicable by the Board of Trade to the working of the Conciliation Act of 1896. This took the form of an Industrial Council which consisted of 13 representatives of employers and the same number of representatives of workers, invited by the President of the Board of Trade to serve on the council with, as chairman, Sir George (afterwards Lord) Askwith who, at the same time, was appointed Chief Industrial Commissioner. This Industrial Council of 1911 was formed as a permanent body for inquiring into trade disputes and for taking action, without compulsory powers, by way of conciliation; that is, it was to be a national conciliation board. In this capacity the council came to very little, and subsequent action has proceeded along different lines. The council's principal achievement was an inquiry into the subject of industrial agreements made at the request of the Government, the report on which was issued in 1913 (Cd. 6952). This contained a recommendation that, in certain conditions, the operation of a collective industrial agreement should be capable of extension by law so as to apply compulsorily not only to the signatories but also to a minority in the industry which had not been a party to the agreement. This recommendation, to which considerable objection has been taken, anticipated one of a similar nature contained in paragraph 21 of the first Whitley report.

The second important instance of the use of the name “Industrial Council,” otherwise than in connexion with Whitley councils, is more recent. As a result of a great industrial conference convened by the Government in Feb. 1919 a report (Cmd. 501, 1920), dealing with a variety of industrial problems, was prepared. This included a proposal for the formation of a National Industrial Council, or what may be described as an advisory “Parliament” of industry. The proposals as to the membership and objects of the council followed the lines adopted in the Whitley councils; but the National Industrial Council, consisting of 400 members fully representative of and duly accredited by the employers' associations and the trade unions, was to speak for industry as a whole and on matters of general interest to all industry. It was pointed out that the council was to supplement and not to supersede any of the existing machinery; the general definition of its objects reads: “to secure the largest possible measure of joint action between the representative organizations of employers and workpeople and to be the normal channel through which the opinions and experience of industry will be sought by the Government on all questions affecting industry as a whole.” At the beginning of Jan. 1922 the council had not yet been formed.

(Author:Robert Wilson (fl. 1922))


text:
The Pearl/Volume 5/Sub-Umbra, or Sport Among the She-Noodles.

(Continued.)

Next morning Annie and her sisters rallied us upon our late appearance at the breakfast table, remarking with a pouting look, "that we could not care much for their company if we laid a-bed and left them to themselves for the best half of the day, and that Rosa was just as bad, for she was actually still in dishabille, taking her breakfast in her own room."

Here mama interposed, by adding, "Besides, Walter, I am astonished you should copy Frank's lazy ways, you who on your first arrival here were so eager for early morning walks; look at Annie, she is not half so rosy and animated as she looked after your first walk."

A deep flush passed across Annie's face at this allusion to our first eventful walk, when we had the adventure with the bull, but I prevented her parents' observing it by replying: "That residents in town were always in such a hurry to enjoy the fresh air, and that it seemed to have an extraordinary somnolescent effect upon me, as I could hardly keep my eyes open at supper time, or rouse myself from sleep in the morning."

Frank. - "I'm glad you have found out it is not all laziness now. Walter will take my part when I assert it is the natural drowsiness of youth, which is readily induced by the keen bracing air we breathe all day."

Papa made a few incredulous, ironical remarks about the youth of the present day, and then breakfast being over, as he rose from the table, said: "Walter, would you mind riding a dozen miles to oblige me. Frank would not be ready to start for an hour at least; besides, I would rather trust you than him with the lady my note is for; Mrs. Colonel Leslie is both young and gay, and I would rather not run the risk of Frank being one day a corespondent in the Divorce Court, and caution you to take care of yourself."

I readily assented, more especially when I noticed a shade of jealous anxiety flit across Annie's tell-tale face. The horse was already at the door, so springing into the saddle I rode off with a fluttering anticipation of something racy being likely to turn up. I shall not trouble about my reflections during this delightful hour's ride; the atmosphere was most deliciously bracing, and my thoughts were so amorously bent that when I reined up at the lodge-gate, at the entrance to the Colonel's grounds, I felt that I could fuck anything in petticoats, from a witch to a gatepost; the gatekeeper soon passed me in, and springing from my saddle before the door of a fine old Elizabethan hall, my knock was promptly responded to by a most handsome young coloured fellow with a Hindoo cast of features.

Mrs. Leslie was at home, and he begged I would excuse her coming down to the drawing-room, as she was still at her toilette, and would immediately see me in her private boudoir.

This courteous message revived all my romantically amorous ideas, with which I had indulged myself during my ride.

Ushered into the boudoir, I found the lady of the house to be a beautiful brunette of about three-and-twenty, with a most bewitching expression of countenance, whilst her large, full, dark eyes seemed to read my very soul as she extended her hand and drew me to a seat by her side, saying: "So, you are cousin Walter, I suppose; how is it that Frank did not ride over with his papa's note? But tell him," she added with a very arch look, "that I was quite as well pleased to see you, and that I consider his cousin quite as fascinating as himself."

Then ringing the bell, she continued, "Will you take a cup of chocolate with me after your ride? it will invigorate me for the serious business of your uncle's note," opening a drawer and laying several bundles of papers like legal documents on the table, just as the servant entered (he was the good-looking Hindoo who had first introduced me).

MRS Leslie. - "Vishnu, bring up the chocolate, with two cups and some biscuits, and mind not to forget the flask of noyau," remarking to me as he disappeared, "Is he not a good looking heathen? The Colonel had him long before he married me, and I call him his principal Hindoo deity; whenever I look at him it puts me in mind of Joseph and Potiphar's wife, especially now the Colonel is away; do you not think It a burning shame to leave a young wife all alone by herself?"

She continued to run on in this curious way, without giving me a chance to make a reply or observation in return, as she busied herself laying out the papers, making pretence of an awful lot of business to be gone through.

The servant now brought in the chocolate, &c, and was dismissed with the order to tell Annette that her mistress would be too busy for some time, and was not to be disturbed until she rung for the completion of her toilette.

My fair hostess was a most charming object as she moved about in her dressing-gown, which was rather open at the neck, so as to display the upper part of the snowy prominences of her luscious bosom, besides which I caught glimpses of her naked feet, with nothing on but the most petite blue satin slippers.

Presently she poured out two cups of chocolate, put in a little of the noyau, and presenting me with one of them took her seat by my side, on the soft yielding lounge. "Drink it off as I do," she said; "it will do you far more good than sipping and allowing it to get cold."

We both drank our small cups at a draught, and I almost instantly felt a thrill of voluptuous warmth rush through my frame, and looking at my fair companion, her eyes seemed to sparkle with a strange amorous fire.

The devil was in me; in less time than it takes to write it, my empty cup was put on the table, and my disengaged arm placed round her neck; I drew her face to mine, and imprinted several kisses on her lips and cheeks as my other hand took possession of that inviting bosom; she was covered with blushes as she exclaimed, "Fie! Fie sir!! how can you take such liberties when I can't help myself without dropping my cup?"

"Dear lady, excuse my liberties, and don't distress yourself, I am really greatly obliged to the cup for its assistance; how can I look upon such loveliness without being tempted, yes, tempted! driven mad by the sight of such charms; you will excuse, you will pardon my presumption, I am sure," I ejaculated, throwing myself upon my knees before her and hiding my face in her lap, as I clasped my arms nervously round her waist, and could feel her whole frame tremble with emotion.

Suddenly she seemed to start with pain as she exclaimed, "Ah! Goodness! Oh! Oh!! Oh!! the cramp in my legs. Oh! Oh!" as the cup was thrown down by her side. "Oh, release me, sir! Oh, Walter, excuse me, I must rub it!"

Here was a splendid opportunity to improve a lucky chance. "Permit me, poor dear lady, you are in such dreadful pain, and I am a medical student," I said, making bold to raise her dressing-gown and chafe her lovely calves with my eager hands; what lovely legs I now beheld, with not a vestige of anything on them; my blood was on fire, my fingers gradually wandered higher and higher, and I could not refrain from imprinting kisses on the delicious soft, pinky flesh, as she seemed rather to sigh than speak, "Oh! thank you, pray don't, it's so indelicate, and the cramp is gone now."

"No, no, dear Madame, the nervous contraction of your beautiful thighs convince me that it is higher up, and will return again in a few moments, unless I can relieve you; indeed you must not mind me, as I am a medical man," I quickly replied, making bolder advances every moment, and taking advantages of the warm temperament I knew she possessed.

"You rogue, you young villain, your touches and kisses have undone me, how can I resist a handsome student? Oh, Walter, Walter, I must have you! I had only been trying to draw you out a little, never thinking you were such a young gallant; and now I am caught in my own net!"

"Ah! What a hurry. You'll spoil it all by your impetuosity; you shall never have me without first kissing the shrine of love."

"Sir!" pushing me away, as I was endeavouring to get between her lovely thighs. "Strip, strip, sir, I must see my Adonis, as your Venus now unveils herself to you," throwing off her dressing-gown (which I now saw was her only article of clothing); and drawing my face down to hers, she thrust her tongue into my mouth, "tipping the velvet" in the most delicious style of voluptuous abandon, and delightfully handling my prick and balls at the same time. It was too much for my impatient steed, my spendings flew all over her hands and body almost instantly.

"Ah! What a naughty impatient boy, to come so quickly! Pull off your clothes, sir, and let us take our fill of love on yonder bed. My husband deserves this, forleaving me open to such temptation. You dear boy, how I shall love you; what a fine prick you have, and so-so - what do they call it? - (blushing at her own words) so randy! That's what the Colonel says of the young fellows. Isn't it a dreadfully rude word, Walter? But so full of meaning. Whenever he said so, I couldn't help wishing for a handsome, randy young gentleman, such as your uncle has sent me to-day." This is how she ran on, as I threw off everything, and I was as naked as herself in a trice; then, hugging, kissing, belly to belly, and handling each other's charms in every possible way, we slowly progressed towards the inviting bed in the other room; once or twice I stopped and tried to get my prick into her standing up, but she would none of that, and at last, when her bottom rested against the edge of the bed, she ordered me to kneel down and kiss the seat of love; how my tongue searched out her fine stiff clitoris, which projected quite an inch-and-a-half from the lips of her vagina. I sucked it in ecstasy, and titillated her sensitive organs so that she spent profusely in a minute or two, holding my head with her hands to make me go on; it was a most deliciously enjoyable gamahuche; my tongue revelled in her creamy emission, till she begged me to slip off my shirt and come on the bed and let her enjoy my fine prick. So I ended this prelude with a playful, loving bite on her excited clitoris, and then, springing to my feet, we rolled on to the bed, her ready hand grasping my cock, as I mounted on her lovely body.

"What a shame!" she sighed. "How you have been spending, you naughty boy, you won't have much left for me now; but he's fine and stiff!" as she squeezed it in her hand, and brought the head of my affair to the mark.

I found her deliciously tight, and assured her she was quite a virgin.

"SO I should be, my dear Walter, but for you. The Colonel has got so little to please me with, that, tight as I am, I can hardly feel him! now your jewel of pleasure makes me feel gorged with delight!"

Her motions were as lascivious as her words. She writhed and threw up her buttocks with extraordinary rapidity and energy, whilst I was equally eager and rapid in ramming into her delicious cunt.

I was ready as if I had never spent, and we swam in a mutual emission almost immediately, both of us being so overcome by our feelings that we almost swooned in delight; this only lasted for a minute; the throbbing and contracting of the folds of her vagina on my enraptured prick awoke me to renewed efforts, and we were rapidly progressing towards another spend, when she checked me, and begged I would withdraw for a little, when she would amuse me till she felt she must have him again, and she added, "I shall enjoy it so much more if I can make you last longer. Sit on my body, Walter dear, and lay your beautiful prick between the globes of my bosom; you shall spend there next time. I can't help telling you what a fine one it is, over and over again!"

She went on caressing it with her hand, and making her two bubbies close upon it, so that I could work between them. It was another delicious idea, but she had not exhausted all her ways of exciting me. Her other hand passed under my thigh, and I thought she was frigging herself, but it was only to wet her finger, preparatory to frigging my bottom-hole with it. This made me come again almost directly.

"Now," said she, "I mean to ride on you, and make it last as long as possible, so let us reverse positions."

This was done, and she rode me and stopped alternately for about twenty minutes, when we met in a glorious flow of sperm.

"What do you think of that?" she exclaimed, as soon as she recovered her breath. "We will get up and answer your uncle's letter now, and you shall promise to come again soon."

(To be continued.)

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


text: Author:Robert Wilson (fl. 1922)

title: Author:Robert Wilson (fl. 1922)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hervey, Thomas (1698-1775)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hervey, Thomas Kibble


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hervey, William


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hesilrige, Arthur


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Minamoto Yoshitsune

MINAMOTO YOSHITSUNE, (1158-1189), A Japanese chieftain, Japanese history in the eleventh and twelfth centuries A.D. is concerned with the struggles of the Taira and the Minamoto clans. In 1159 Yoshitomo, the head of the Minamoto, was killed and his clan defeated. His three sons escaped, and after years of adventure defeated the Taira finally in 1185. Yoshitsune, the youngest of the three, was the lieutenant of his elder brother Yoritomo, and the most efficient warrior in his army. Yoshitsune was in command when the last battle was fought, but his success excited the jealousy of his brother, who sought his death. Escaping with eleven comrades, Yoshitsune was pursued, and committed suicide in 1189. His history, with its adventures, triumphs, and tragic end, is the favorite theme of romance, poetry, and drama. In one form of the story the hero escaped with his life, and found refuge among the Aino in Yezo, where he is still worshiped as a god. Another legend represents him as going to the continent of Asia and identifies him with Genghis Khan.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hesketh, Harriet


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hesketh, Henry


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hesketh, Roger


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hesketh, Thomas


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heskyns, Thomas


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heslop, Luke


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heslop, Thomas Pretious


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Minaret

MIN'ARET. The tower of a mosque (q.v.), corresponding to the bell-tower or campanile of Christian churches, and so called (‘light-tower’) because on feast days it was illuminated at night. The Mohammedan call to prayer is not by bell, but by the voice of the official termed muezzin who at stated times (five times daily) mounts to the summit of the minaret and summons the people from its upper balcony with the prescribed formula. Each mosque has one or more minarets. The normal number for the largest Djami mosques is four, one at each angle of the inclosure. Some have as many as six, e.g. the Ahmed mosque at Constantinople. The mosque at Mecca has the exceptional number of seven.

The usual type is a slender polygonal and cylindrical structure of stone or brick, often rising from a square base and consisting of several stories marked by balconies, either projecting on stalactite supports, or with a receding story above; it is crowned by a pinnacle or small dome. The summit is reached by a winding inner stairway; only the old stone minaret of Tulun at Cairo has an external winding staircase.

The earliest mosques had no minarets. They were first built during the seventh century, the Khalif Omar being said to have erected two at

Kufa and Mudina. Those earlier than the twelfth century were usually heavy square structures of stuccoed brick or stone without much ornament. This type is preserved at the mosque of Sidi Okba at Kairwan in Tunis. Amonj; the finest groups of the middle period is that of Cairo— the mosques of Ihn Tulun, Hassan, Barkuk, Kalaun, Bordeï, and Kait Bey. The Tulun mosque had a stone minaret in the centre of one of the sides on a square plan passing first to a cylindrical and then to an octagonal shape. The Hassan mosque has two minarets; that of Kait Bey only one.

The minarets of Egypt, Spain, Syria, India, Persia, and Turkey built between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries are among the most original and graceful works of Eastern architecture. The Giralda at Seville shows that the Spanish moors maintained the early square type with added delicacy and richness; generally the circular and octagonal types prevail. The old heavy simplicity has been replaced by a wealth of surface decoration in relief and color and by great slenderness. Stalactite corbels support the balconies, arabesques and colonnettes break up the surfaces, and glazed tiles, especially in Persia, add a brilliant coloring. Damascus and Bagdad preserve some of their mediæval examples. The minarets of Ahmedabad rival those of Cairo; those of Delhi and Agra are hardly less interesting. Those of the Constantinople mosques, such as Saint Sophia, Ahmed, etc., are exceedingly graceful. Sometimes the colleges or madrasah had minarets of similar style to those of the mosques, as in that of Sultan Husein at Ispahan, where the towers are similar to those of the great mosque of Ispahan, The height varies exceedingly; among the highest are Giralda (formerly 230 feet, now 308 feet), Kalaun (193 feet), and Hassan (280 feet) at Cairo, and the Kutub Minar near Delhi (242 feet). Consult the bibliography of.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hessel, Phœbe


text:
Wikisource:Community portal/Category

(more...)

title: Wikisource:Community portal/Category


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heston, Walter


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hetherington, Henry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heton, Martin


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heugh, Hugh


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heveningham, William


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewett, George


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewett, William (d.1567)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewett, William Nathan Wrighte


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewitson, William Chapman


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewitt, John (1719-1802)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewitt, John (1807-1878)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewlett, Ebenezer


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewlett, Joseph Thomas James


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hewson, William (1739-1774)


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


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


text:
Page:Pentagon-Papers-Part IV. A. 1.djvu/9

Declassified per Executive Order 13526, Section 3.3 NND Project Number: NND 63316. By: NWD Date: 2011 TOP SECRET – Sensitive  {|style="width:100%"
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 * b.
 * colspan="2"|SEATO Unstructured by U.S. Preference
 * A-23
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 * c.
 * colspan="2"|SEATO Contingency Planning
 * A-27
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 * Laos Planning
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text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hey, William


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heydon, Christopher


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heydon, Henry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heydon, John (d.1653)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heydon, John (fl.1667)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heyman, Peter


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heyrick, Thomas


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heytesbury, William (fl.1340)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Heytesbury, William A'Court


text:
Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/71

Rh This garden, in a city-heart,

Lay still as houseless wild,

Though many-windowed mansion fronts

Were round it closely piled;

But thick their walls, and those within

Lived lives by noise unstirred;

Like wafting of an angel's wing,

Time's flight by them was heard.

Some soft piano-notes alone

Were sweet as faintly given,

Where ladies, doubtless, cheered the hearth

With song, that winter-even.

The city's many-mingled sounds

Rose like the hum of ocean;

They rather lulled the heart than roused

Its pulse to faster motion.

Gilbert has paced the single walk

An hour, yet is not weary;

And, though it be a winter night,

He feels nor cold nor dreary.

The prime of life is in his veins,

And sends his blood fast flowing,

And Fancy's fervour warms the thoughts

Now in his bosom glowing.

Those thoughts recur to early love,

Or what he love would name,


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62 Though haply Gilbert's secret deeds

Might other title claim.

Such theme not oft his mind absorbs,

He to the world clings fast,

And too much for the present lives,

To linger o'er the past.

But now the evening's deep repose

Has glided to his soul;

That moonlight falls on Memory,

And shows her fading scroll.

One name appears in every line

The gentle rays shine o'er,

And still he smiles and still repeats

That one name—Elinor.

There is no sorrow in his smile,

No kindness in his tone;

The triumph of a selfish heart

Speaks coldly there alone;

He says: "She loved me more than life;

And truly it was sweet

To see so fair a woman kneel,

In bondage, at my feet.

There was a sort of quiet bliss

To be so deeply loved,

To gaze on trembling eagerness

And sit myself unmoved.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bitterwood

BITTERWOOD. A name given to certain species of the genus Xylopia, trees and shrubs remarkable for the bitterness of their wood, particularly the West Indian Xylopia glabra. Furniture made of this wood is safe from the attacks of insects. The genus Xylopia belongs to the natural order Anonaceæ. The fruit of some of the species, particularly Xylopia sericea, is highly aromatic and pungent like pepper. Xylopia sericea is a large tree, a native of Brazil; its bark is used for making excellent cordage.

Bitterwood is also the name of Quassia excelsa or Simaruba excelsa, a tree of the natural order Simarubaceæ, a native of Jamaica, the wood of which is used in medicine. Botanically, it is very nearly allied to the true quassia, and possesses very similar properties, containing the crystallizable bitter principle called quassin. The wood, which is intensely bitter, is a very useful stomachic and tonic; if introduced by the rectum, it acts in certain eases as an excellent anthelmintic. An infusion of bitterwood is, further, a well-known and useful fly-poison; and it appears to act as a powerful narcotic on many quadrupeds.


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Rh And when it pleased my pride to grant,

At last some rare caress,

To feel the fever of that hand

My fingers deigned to press.

'Twas sweet to see her strive to hide

What every glance revealed;

Endowed, the while, with despot-might

Her destiny to wield.

I knew myself no perfect man,

Nor, as she deemed, divine;

I knew that I was glorious—but

By her reflected shine;

Her youth, her native energy,

Her powers new-born and fresh,

'Twas these with Godhead sanctified

My sensual frame of flesh.

Yet, like a god did I descend

At last, to meet her love;

And, like a god, I then withdrew

To my own heaven above.

And never more could she invoke

My presence to her sphere;

No prayer, no plaint, no cry of hers

Could win my awful ear.

I knew her blinded constancy

Would ne'er my deeds betray,


text:
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text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bitumen

BITU'MEN (Lat., a kind of mineral pitch). A name applied to a number of inflammable mineral substances varying in chemical composition and ranging in consistency from solid to gaseous. The bitumens consist mainly of carbon and hydrogen, but usually they contain also small amounts of sulphur, oxygen, and nitrogen. The most important substances included under the name are natural gas, naphtha, petroleum, maltha, mineral tar, asphalt, elaterite, wurtzilite, albertite, grahamite, gilsonite, ozocerite, and coal. Natural gas is composed mostly of marsh-gas, with small quantities of other hydrocarbons and of carbon oxide. Petroleum and naphtha and the solid bitumens are essentially hydrocarbon compounds, containing also subordinate amounts of sulphur, oxygen, and nitrogen, and other elements which may be regarded as impurities. The bitumens are widely distributed over the earth's surface, and occur in all the geological formations from the Silurian to the present. Their origin in most eases can be traced to the decomposition of vegetable matter, but various theories have been advanced to account for the deposits of petroleum. The several bitumens are desicribed in special articles. See ;

 * and.
 * and.
 * and.
 * and.
 * and.


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Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/74

64 And, calm in conscience, whole in heart,

I went my tranquil way.

Yet, sometimes, I still feel a wish,

The fond and flattering pain

Of passion's anguish to create,

In her young breast again.

Bright was the lustre of her eyes,

When they caught fire from mine;

If I had power—this very hour,

Again I'd light their shine.

But where she is, or how she lives,

I have no clue to know;

I've heard she long my absence pined,

And left her home in woe.

But busied, then, in gathering gold,

As I am busied now,

I could not turn from such pursuit,

To weep a broken vow.

Nor could I give to fatal risk

The fame I ever prized;

Even now, I fear, that precious fame

Is too much compromised."

An inward trouble dims his eye,

Some riddle he would solve;

Some method to unloose a knot,

His anxious thoughts revolve.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bituminous Coal

BITU′MINOUS COAL (Lat. bituminous, from bitumen, a kind of mineral pitch, bitumen). A term applied to the varieties of coal which contain a large percentage of volatile matter. They yield, by destructive distillation, a considerable quantity of gas, easily purified, and with good illuminating qualities, and are consequently largely used for that purpose. Some varieties also cake when heated out of contact with the air, and yield a hard, porous product known as coke. See ;.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bituminous Limestone

BITUMINOUS LIMESTONE. A limestone impregnated and sometimes deeply colored with bituminous matter derived from the decomposition of animal and plant remains entombed within the mass or in its vicinity. The amount of bituminous matter or asphalt in the pores of the rock is sometimes sufficient to permit the material being used for asphalt pavements after simply powdering and heating it. Still better results are obtained by mixing it with bituminous sandstone. In the United States, bituminous limestone occurs in Indian Territory, Texas, and Utah. Much bituminous limestone is also mined in Germany, Switzerland, and France, whence large quantities of it are brought to the United States. See ; .


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bituminous Sandstone

BITUMINOUS SANDSTONE. A sedimentary rock of siliceous character, containing more or less asphalt or bitumen. When rich in bitumen it is a valuable economic product; sometimes it is used directly as a paving material, but more often it is previously subjected to a process of refining. In the United States it is mined in California, Kentucky, and Indian Territory. The output in 1900 was 34,277 short tons, valued at $138,892. Consult the volumes of The Mineral Industry, especially Vol. VIII. (New York, 1900). See ; .


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bituminous Shales

BITUMINOUS SHALES. Beds of shale occurring chiefly in the coal-measures, and containing such an amount of carbon and volatile matter that they are capable of being burned when mixed with but a little coal. They are indeed impure coal, with a large percentage of ash or earthy matter, which after burning retains the original form. See.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bitzius, Albert

BITZIUS, bēt'sḗ-ōōs, (1797-1854). A Swiss author, known also by his pseudonym, Jeremias Gotthelf. He was born at Murten (Freiburg), studied at Göttingen, and was pastor at Lützelflüh (Bern) from 1832 until his death. His works deal with the Canton of Bern, and are written in the popular dialect. They have become classic in Switzerland, and have found a wider circulation through translations into High German. A fine edition of his complete writings appeared at Chaux-de-Fondes in 1894-96 (4 vols.). Selections are accessible under the title Ausgewählte Erzählungen (1888) in Reclam's Universalbibliothek.


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Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/75

Rh He, pensive, leans against a tree,

A leafy evergreen,

The boughs, the moonlight, intercept,

And hide him like a screen;

He starts—the tree shakes with his tremor,

Yet nothing near him pass'd,

He hurries up the garden alley,

In strangely sudden haste.

With shaking hand, he lifts the latchet,

Steps o'er the threshold stone;

The heavy door slips from his fingers,

It shuts, and he is gone.

What touched, transfixed, appalled, his soul?

A nervous thought, no more;

'Twill sink like stone in placid pool,

And calm close smoothly o'er.

II.

THE PARLOUR.

is the parlour atmosphere,

Serene the lamp's soft light;

The vivid embers, red and clear,

Proclaim a frosty night.

Books, varied, on the table lie,

Three children o'er them bend,

And all, with curious, eager eye,

The turning leaf attend.


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66 Picture and tale alternately

Their simple hearts delight,

And interest deep, and tempered glee,

Illume their aspects bright;

The parents, from their fireside place,

Behold that pleasant scene,

And joy is on the mother's face,

Pride, in the father's mien.

As Gilbert sees his blooming wife,

Beholds his children fair,

No thought has he of transient strife,

Or past, though piercing fear.

The voice of happy infancy

Lisps sweetly in his ear,

His wife, with pleased and peaceful eye.

Sits, kindly smiling, near.

The fire glows on her silken dress,

And shows its ample grace,

And warmly tints each hazel tress,

Curled soft around her face.

The beauty that in youth he wooed,

Is beauty still, unfaded,

The brow of ever placid mood

No churlish grief has shaded.

Prosperity, in Gilbert's home,

Abides, the guest of years;

There Want or Discord never come,

And seldom Toil or Tears.


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Rh The carpets bear the peaceful print

Of comfort's velvet tread,

And golden gleams from plenty sent,

In every nook are shed.

The very silken spaniel seems

Of quiet ease to tell,

As near its mistress' feet it dreams,

Sunk in a cushion's swell;

And smiles seem native to the eyes

Of those sweet children, three;

They have but looked on tranquil skies,

And know not misery.

Alas! that misery should come

In such an hour as this;

Why could she not so calm a home

A little longer miss?

But she is now within the door,

Her steps advancing glide;

Her sullen shade has crossed the floor,

She stands at Gilbert's side.

She lays her hand upon his heart,

It bounds with agony;

His fireside chair shakes with the start

That shook the garden tree.

His wife towards the children looks,

She does not mark his mien;

The children, bending o'er their books,

His terror have not seen.


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68 In his own home, by his own hearth,

He sits in solitude,

And circled round with light and mirth,

Cold horror chills his blood.

His mind would hold with desperate clutch

The scene that round him lies;

No—changed, as by some wizard's touch,

The present prospect flies.

A tumult vague—a viewless strife

His futile struggles crush;

'Twixt him and his, an unknown life

And unknown feelings rush.

He sees—but scarce can language paint

The tissue Fancy weaves;

For words oft give but echo faint

Of thoughts the mind conceives.

Noise, tumult strange, and darkness dim,

Efface both light and quiet;

No shape is in those shadows grim,

No voice in that wild riot.

Sustained and strong, a wondrous blast

Above and round him blows;

A greenish gloom, dense overcast,

Each moment denser grows.

He nothing knows—nor clearly sees,

Resistance checks his breath,

The high, impetuous, ceaseless breeze

Blows on him, cold as death.


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70 No effort from the haunted air

The ghastly scene could banish;

That hovering wave, arrested there,

Rolled—throbbed—but did not vanish.

If Gilbert upward turned his gaze,

He saw the ocean-shadow;

If he looked down, the endless seas

Lay green as summer meadow.

And straight before, the pale corpse lay,

Upborne by air or billow,

So near, he could have touched the spray

That churned around its pillow.

The hollow anguish of the face

Had moved a fiend to sorrow;

Not Death's fixed calm could rase the trace

Of suffering's deep-worn furrow.

All moved; a strong returning blast,

The mass of waters raising,

Bore wave and passive carcase past,

While Gilbert yet was gazing.

Deep in her isle-conceiving womb,

It seemed the Ocean thundered,

And soon, by realms of rushing gloom,

Were seer and phantom sundered.

Then swept some timbers from a wreck,

On following surges riding;

Then sea-weed, in the turbid rack

Uptorn, went slowly gliding.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bivouac

BIVOUAC, bĭv'wăk (Fr., probably from Ger. Beiwache, Beiwacht, from bei, by + Wache, watch, guard),. An encampment of soldiers in the open air; generally of a temporary nature. In active service, and in an enemy's country, great care must be exercised in

the choice of ground for a bivouac. It must be, as far as possible, free from being commanded by artillery fire, capable of hasty defense, offer few (if any) advantages to an enemy, and be near water facilities for men and animals. See .
 * and
 * and


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Rh The horrid shade, by slow degrees,

A beam of light defeated,

And then the roar of raving seas,

Fast, far, and faint, retreated.

And all was gone—gone like a mist,

Corse, billows, tempest, wreck;

Three children close to Gilbert prest

And clung around his neck.

Good night! good night! the prattlers said

And kissed their father's cheek;

'Twas now the hour their quiet bed

And placid rest to seek.

The mother with her offspring goes

To hear their evening prayer;

She nought of Gilbert's vision knows,

And nought of his despair.

Yet, pitying God, abridge the time

Of anguish, now his fate!

Though, haply, great has been his crime,

Thy mercy, too, is great.

Gilbert, at length, uplifts his head,

Bent for some moments low,

And there is neither grief nor dread

Upon his subtle brow.

For well can he his feelings task,

And well his looks command;

His features well his heart can mask,

With smiles and smoothness bland.


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72 Gilbert has reasoned with his mind—

He says 'twas all a dream;

He strives his inward sight to blind

Against truth's inward beam.

He pitied not that shadowy thing,

When it was flesh and blood;

Nor now can pity's balmy spring

Refresh his arid mood.

"And if that dream has spoken truth,"

Thus musingly he says;

"If Elinor be dead, in sooth,

Such chance the shock repays:

A net was woven round my feet,

I scarce could further go,

Ere Shame had forced a fast retreat,

Dishonour brought me low."

"Conceal her, then, deep, silent Sea,

Give her a secret grave!

She sleeps in peace, and I am free,

No longer Terror's slave:

And homage still, from all the world,

Shall greet my spotless name,

Since surges break and waves are curled

Above its threatened shame."


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Biwa

BIWA, bē'wȧ. A beautiful lake in the southern part of the island of Nippon, Japan (Map: Japan, E 6). It is about 36 miles long, 12 miles in width, and lies at an altitude of about 400 feet. The western shore is mountainous and the eastern is low. There are several small islets in the lake, and fish are found in abundance. Biwa is connected by several canals with the inlet of Osaka, and supplies water-power to the mills and factories in Kyoto.

title: The New International Encyclopædia/Biwa


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Rh III.

THE WELCOME HOME.

the city hangs the moon,

Some clouds are boding rain,

Gilbert, erewhile on journey gone,

To-night comes home again.

Ten years have passed above his head,

Each year has brought him gain;

His prosperous life has smoothly sped,

Without or tear or stain.

'Tis somewhat late—the city clocks

Twelve deep vibrations toll,

As Gilbert at the portal knocks,

Which is his journey's goal.

The street is still and desolate,

The moon hid by a cloud;

Gilbert, impatient, will not wait,—

His second knock peals loud.

The clocks are hushed; there's not a light

In any window nigh,

And not a single planet bright

Looks from the clouded sky;

The air is raw, the rain descends,

A bitter north-wind blows;

His cloak the traveller scarce defends—

Will not the door unclose?


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74 He knocks the third time, and the last;

His summons now they hear,

Within, a footstep, hurrying fast,

Is heard approaching near.

The bolt is drawn, the clanking chain

Falls to the floor of stone;

And Gilbert to his heart will strain

His wife and children soon.

The hand that lifts the latchet, holds

A candle to his sight,

And Gilbert, on the step, beholds

A woman, clad in white.

Lo! water from her dripping dress

Runs on the streaming floor;

From every dark and clinging tress,

The drops incessant pour.

There's none but her to welcome him;

She holds the candle high,

And, motionless in form and limb,

Stands cold and silent nigh;

There's sand and sea-weed on her robe,

Her hollow eyes are blind;

No pulse in such a frame can throb,

No life is there defined.

Gilbert turned ashy-white, but still

His lips vouchsafed no cry;

He spurred his strength and master-will

To pass the figure by,—


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/Gilbert


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Rh Could the battle-struggle earn

One kind glance from thine eye,

How this withering heart would burn,

The heady fight to try!

Welcome nights of broken sleep,

And days of carnage cold,

Could I deem that thou wouldst weep

To hear my perils told.

Tell me, if with wandering bands

I roam full far away,

Wilt thou, to those distant lands,

In spirit ever stray?

Wild, long, a trumpet sounds afar;

Bid me—bid me go

Where Seik and Briton meet in war,

On Indian Sutlej's flow.

Blood has dyed the Sutlej's waves

With scarlet stain, I know;

Indus' borders yawn with graves,

Yet, command me go!

Though rank and high the holocaust

Of nations, steams to heaven,

Glad I'd join the death-doomed host,

Were but the mandate given.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Bixby, James Thompson

BIX'BY, (1843—). An American Unitarian minister. He was born at Barre, Mass., July 30, 1843; graduated at Harvard College and at Harvard Divinity School; entered the ministry, and has served in various places; since 1885, at Yonkers, N. Y. He was professor of the philosophy of religion in the Meadville Theological School from 1879 to 1883, when he went abroad for study and travel, and in 1885 received the degree of Ph.D. at the University of Leipzig. He is the author of Similarities of Physical and Religious Knowledge (1876; 2d ed. under the title, Religion and Science as Allies, 1889); The Crisis in Morals; Examination of Rational Ethics in the Light of Modern Science (1891; 2d ed. under the title, The Ethics of Evolution, 1900); The New World and the New Thought (1902).


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114 Passion's strength should nerve my arm,

Its ardour stir my life,

Till human force to that dread charm

Should yield and sink in wild alarm,

Like trees to tempest-strife.

If, hot from war, I seek thy love,

Darest thou turn aside?

Darest thou, then, my fire reprove,

By scorn, and maddening pride?

No—my will shall yet control

Thy will, so high and free,

And love shall tame that haughty soul—

Yes—tenderest love for me.

I'll read my triumph in thine eyes,

Behold, and prove the change;

Then leave, perchance, my noble prize,

Once more in arms to range.

I'd die when all the foam is up,

The bright wine sparkling high;

Nor wait till in the exhausted cup

Life's dull dregs only lie.

Then Love thus crowned with sweet reward,

Hope blest with fulness large,

I'd mount the saddle, draw the sword,

And perish in the charge!

.


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/Passion


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Talk:The Whisperer in Darkness/full

It looks like each of the chapters is tabbed further in than the one before it. I couldn't figure out how to fix it myself, so I'm mentioning it here. Using Chrome Version 22.0.1229.94 m - 71.94.212.4 20:32, 15 October 2012 (UTC)

title: Talk:The Whisperer in Darkness/full


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Rh PREFERENCE.

in scorn do I reprove thee,

Not in pride thy vows I waive,

But, believe, I could not love thee,

Wert thou prince, and I a slave.

These, then, are thine oaths of passion?

This, thy tenderness for me?

Judged, even, by thine own confession,

Thou art steeped in perfidy.

Having vanquished, thou wouldst leave me!

Thus I read thee long ago;

Therefore, dared I not deceive thee,

Even with friendship's gentle show.

Therefore, with impassive coldness

Have I ever met thy gaze;

Though, full oft, with daring boldness,

Thou thine eyes to mine didst raise.

Why that smile? Thou now art deeming

This my coldness all untrue,—

But a mask of frozen seeming,

Hiding secret fires from view.

Touch my hand, thou self-deceiver;

Nay—be calm, for I am so:

Does it burn? Does my lip quiver?


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116 Has mine eye a troubled glow?

Canst thou call a moment's colour

To my forehead—to my cheek?

Canst thou tinge their tranquil pallor

With one flattering, feverish streak?

Am I marble? What! no woman

Could so calm before thee stand?

Nothing living, sentient, human,

Could so coldly take thy hand?

Yes—a sister might, a mother:

My good-will is sisterly:

Dream not, then, I strive to smother

Fires that inly burn for thee.

Rave not, rage not, wrath is fruitless,

Fury cannot change my mind;

I but deem the feeling rootless

Which so whirls in passion's wind.

Can I love? Oh, deeply—truly—

Warmly—fondly—but not thee;

And my love is answered duly,

With an equal energy.

Wouldst thou see thy rival? Hasten,

Draw that curtain soft aside,

Look where yon thick branches chasten

Noon, with shades of eventide.

In that glade, where foliage blending

Forms a green arch overhead,

Sits thy rival thoughtful bending

O'er a stand with papers spread—

Motionless, his fingers plying


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Rh That untired, unresting pen;

Time and tide unnoticed flying,

There he sits—the first of men!

Man of conscience—man of reason;

Stern, perchance, but ever just;

Foe to falsehood, wrong, and treason,

Honour's shield, and virtue's trust!

Worker, thinker, firm defender

Of Heaven's truth—man's liberty;

Soul of iron—proof to slander,

Rock where founders tyranny.

Fame he seeks not—but full surely

She will seek him, in his home;

This I know, and wait securely

For the atoning hour to come.

To that man my faith is given,

Therefore, soldier, cease to sue;

While God reigns in earth and heaven,

I to him will still be true!

.


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/Preference


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144 And, before my dreaming eyes

Still the learned volumes lay,

And I could not close their leaves,

And I could not turn away.

But I oped my eyes at last,

And I heard a muffled sound;

'Twas the night-breeze, come to say

That the snow was on the ground.

Then I knew that there was rest

On the mountain's bosom free;

So I left my fevered couch,

And I flew to waken thee!

I have flown to waken thee—

For, if thou wilt not arise,

Then my soul can drink no peace

From these holy moonlight skies.

And, this waste of virgin snow

To my sight will not be fair,

Unless thou wilt smiling come,

Love, to wander with me there.

Then, awake! Maria, wake!

For, if thou couldst only know

How the quiet moonlight sleeps

On this wilderness of snow,


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Rh And the groves of ancient trees,

In their snowy garb arrayed,

Till they stretch into the gloom

Of the distant valley's shade;

I know thou wouldst rejoice

To inhale this bracing air;

Thou wouldst break thy sweetest sleep

To behold a scene so fair.

O'er these wintry wilds, alone,

Thou wouldst joy to wander free;

And it will not please thee less,

Though that bliss be shared with me.

.

APOSTASY.

last denial of my faith,

Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard;

And, though upon my bed of death,

I call not back a word.

Point not to thy Madonna, Priest,—

Thy sightless saint of stone;

She cannot, from this burning breast,

Wring one repentant moan.


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/The Student's Serenade


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146 Thou say'st, that when a sinless child,

I duly bent the knee,

And prayed to what in marble smiled

Cold, lifeless, mute, on me.

I did. But listen! Children spring

Full soon to riper youth;

And, for Love's vow and Wedlock's ring,

I sold my early truth.

'Twas not a grey, bare head, like thine,

Bent o'er me, when I said,

"That land and God and Faith are mine,

For which thy fathers bled."

I see thee not, my eyes are dim;

But, well I hear thee say,

"O daughter, cease to think of him

Who led thy soul astray.

Between you lies both space and time;

Let leagues and years prevail

To turn thee from the path of crime,

Back to the Church's pale."

And, did I need that thou shouldst tell

What mighty barriers rise

To part me from that dungeon-cell,

Where my loved Walter lies?

And, did I need that thou shouldst taunt

My dying hour at last,

By bidding this worn spirit pant

No more for what is past?


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Rh Priest—must I cease to think of him?

How hollow rings that word!

Can time, can tears, can distance dim

The memory of my lord?

I said before, I saw not thee,

Because, an hour agone,

Over my eye-balls, heavily,

The lids fell down like stone.

But still my spirit's inward sight

Beholds his image beam

As fixed, as clear, as burning bright,

As some red planet's gleam.

Talk not of thy Last Sacrament,

Tell not thy beads for me;

Both rite and prayer are vainly spent,

As dews upon the sea.

Speak not one word of Heaven above,

Rave not of Hell's alarms;

Give me but back my Walter's love,

Restore me to his arms!

Then will the bliss of Heaven be won;

Then will Hell shrink away,

As I have seen night's terrors shun

The conquering steps of day.

'Tis my religion thus to love,

My creed thus fixed to be;

Not Death shall shake, nor Priestcraft break

My rock-like constancy!


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/Apostasy


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158 Fresh roots shall plant, fresh seed shall sow,

Till a new garden there shall grow,

Cleared of the weeds that fill it now,—

Mere human love, mere selfish yearning,

Which, cherished, would arrest me yet.

I grasp the plough, there's no returning,

Let me, then, struggle to forget.

But England's shores are yet in view,

And England's skies of tender blue

Are arched above her guardian sea.

I cannot yet Remembrance flee;

I must again, then, firmly face

That task of anguish, to retrace.

Wedded to home—I home forsake,

Fearful of change—I changes make;

Too fond of ease—I plunge in toil;

Lover of calm—I seek turmoil:

Nature and hostile Destiny

Stir in my heart a conflict wild;

And long and fierce the war will be

Ere duty both has reconciled.

What other tie yet holds me fast

To the divorced, abandoned past?

Smouldering, on my heart's altar lies

The fire of some great sacrifice,

Not yet half quenched. The sacred steel

But lately struck my carnal will,


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Rh My life-long hope, first joy and last,

What I loved well, and clung to fast;

What I wished wildly to retain,

What I renounced with soul-felt pain;

What—when I saw it, axe-struck, perish—

Left me no joy on earth to cherish;

A man bereft—yet sternly now

I do confirm that Jephtha vow:

Shall I retract, or fear, or flee?

Did Christ, when rose the fatal tree

Before him, on Mount Calvary?

'Twas a long fight, hard fought, but won,

And what I did was justly done.

Yet, Helen! from thy love I turned,

When my heart most for thy heart burned;

I dared thy tears, I dared thy scorn—

Easier the death-pang had been borne.

Helen! thou mightst not go with me,

I could not—dared not stay for thee!

I heard, afar, in bonds complain

The savage from beyond the main;

And that wild sound rose o'er the cry

Wrung out by passion's agony;

And even when, with the bitterest tear

I ever shed, mine eyes were dim,

Still, with the spirit's vision clear,

I saw Hell's empire, vast and grim,

Spread on each Indian river's shore,

Each realm of Asia covering o'er.


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160 There, the weak, trampled by the strong,

Live but to suffer—hopeless die;

There pagan-priests, whose creed is Wrong,

Extortion, Lust, and Cruelty,

Crush our lost race—and brimming fill

The bitter cup of human ill;

And I—who have the healing creed,

The faith benign of Mary's Son;

Shall I behold my brother's need

And, selfishly, to aid him shun?

I—who upon my mother's knees,

In childhood, read Christ's written word,

Received his legacy of peace,

His holy rule of action heard;

I—in whose heart the sacred sense

Of Jesus' love was early felt;

Of his pure full benevolence,

His pitying tenderness for guilt;

His shepherd-care for wandering sheep,

For all weak, sorrowing, trembling things,

His mercy vast, his passion deep

Of anguish for man's sufferings;

I—schooled from childhood in such lore—

Dared I draw back or hesitate,

When called to heal the sickness sore

Of those far off and desolate?

Dark, in the realm and shades of Death,

Nations and tribes and empires lie,

But even to them the light of Faith

Is breaking on their sombre sky:


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Rh And be it mine to bid them raise

Their drooped heads to the kindling scene,

And know and hail the sunrise blaze

Which heralds Christ the Nazarene.

I know how Hell the veil will spread

Over their brows and filmy eyes,

And earthward crush the lifted head

That would look up and seek the skies;

I know what war the fiend will wage

Against that soldier of the cross,

Who comes to dare his demon-rage,

And work his kingdom shame and loss.

Yes, hard and terrible the toil

Of him who steps on foreign soil,

Resolved to plant the gospel vine,

Where tyrants rule and slaves repine;

Eager to lift Religion's light

Where thickest shades of mental night

Screen the false god and fiendish rite;

Reckless that missionary blood,

Shed in wild wilderness and wood,

Has left, upon the unblest air,

The man's deep moan—the martyr's prayer.

I know my lot—I only ask

Power to fulfil the glorious task;

Willing the spirit, may the flesh

Strength for the day receive afresh.

May burning sun or deadly wind

Prevail not o'er an earnest mind;


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162 May torments strange or direst death

Nor trample truth, nor baffle faith.

Though such blood-drops should fall from me

As fell in old Gethsemane,

Welcome the anguish, so it gave

More strength to work—more skill to save.

And, oh! if brief must be my time,

If hostile hand or fatal clime

Cut short my course—still o'er my grave,

Lord, may thy harvest whitening wave.

So I the culture may begin,

Let others thrust the sickle in;

If but the seed will faster grow,

May my blood water what I sow!

What! have I ever trembling stood,

And feared to give to God that blood?

What! has the coward love of life

Made me shrink from the righteous strife?

Have human passions, human fears

Severed me from those Pioneers,

Whose task is to march first, and trace

Paths for the progress of our race?

It has been so; but grant me, Lord,

Now to stand steadfast by thy word!

Protected by salvation's helm,

Shielded by faith—with truth begirt,

To smile when trials seek to whelm

And stand 'mid testing fires unhurt!


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/The Missionary


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 PROSE FICTIONS

BY

CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL.

CURRER BELL'S NOVEL.

JANE EYRE: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CURRER BELL.

Third Edition, with by the ,

3 Vols. Post 8vo, price 1l. 11s. 6d. cloth.

ELLIS BELL'S NOVEL.

WUTHERING HEIGHTS.

ELLIS BELL.

Forming, with "" by ,

3 Vols. Post 8vo, price 1l. 11s. 6d.

ACTON BELL'S NOVEL.

THE TENANT OF WILDFELL HALL.

ACTON BELL.

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text:
Page:Lord Halifax to Franklin D. Roosevelt - NARA - 194967.jpg

 '''BRITISH EMBASSY, WASHINGTON D.C.'''

Dear Mr. President,

I was on the point of asking whether I might have an opportunity of seeing you tomorrow or the next day for a short talk when I got the enclosed message from the Prime Minister.

You will see that it relates to the earlier message that he sent to you through your Embassy in London concerning the movement of the French battleship "Dunkerque".

If you can see me tomorrow or Friday, perhaps you would be good enough to have your Secretary let me know.

The Honourable Franklin D. Roosevelt,

President of the United States.


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Rh

Dear Mr. President,

I enclose herein the text of a message for you from the Prime Minister, which was received at the Embassy this evening.

 * I am,
 * dear Mr. President,
 * Yours sincerely,

The Honourable Franklin D. Roosevelt,

President of the United States.


text:
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 BRITISH EMBASSY, WASHINGTON, D. C. PERSONAL AND MOST SECRET

March 10th, 1941

Dear Mr. President,

I enclose herein a copy of a Personal and Most Secret message from the Prime Minister which has just been received at the Embassy. The second half of this message, which deals with a different subject, has been received in corrupt form, but will be forwarded to you as soon as possible.

I have been instructed in forwarding this message to you to make it clear that in case the United States Government should contemplate giving His Majesty's Government diplomatic support in Angora, Moscow and Belgrade on the lines suggested by the Prime Minister, it is most important that the United States representatives in those capitals should say nothing about the British military move towards the Balkans.

The Honourable Franklin D. Roosevelt, President of the United States of America, Washington, D.C.


text:
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 BRITISH EMBASSY

WASHINGTON D.C.

March 17th 1941.

Dear Mr. President,

I enclose herein the text of a message for you from the Prime Minister.

This was telegraphed to the Embassy this morning.

Believe me,

Dear Mr. President,

Very sincerely yours,

Halifax

The Honourable

Franklin D. Roosevelt,

President of the United States of America,

Washington, D.C.


text:
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May 26, 1941.

MEMORANDUM FOR
 * THE CHIEF OF OPERATIONS

 * FOR YOUR INFORMATION AND PLEASE RETURN FOR MY FILES

 * F. D. R.

 * Many thanks-
 * Betty-


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, and Cardinal Bona, have adduced the following reasons for this rule:—
 * 1) —That the apostles turned towards the east while at prayer.
 * 2) —That the Holy Spirit descended on them from the east on Pentecost.
 * 3) —That we should all turn towards the holy land where our Lord was born.
 * 4) —That as our Lord was the great light of the world, we should towards the brightest quarter of the world, as a figure of his glory.
 * 5) —That as our Lord was crucified looking towards the west, the roods, placed in the same position, face the faithful.
 * 6) —That the star appeared in the east to the three wise men at the birth of our Lord.
 * 7) —To distinguish the faithful from infidels and heretics who, being without faith or unity, turn in any direction.
 * 8) —That, according to the traditional belief of the Church, our Lord will come from the east to judge the living and the dead.

But independent of these mystical and pious reasons, the ancient and canonical position is the most judicious that could have been chosen. How beautifully do the rays of the rising sun, streaming through the brilliant eastern windows of the choir or chancel, darting their warm and cheerful light to the very extremity of the nave, correspond to the hymn appointed to be sung at prime:—

“Jam lucis orto sidere Deum precemur supplices, Ut in diurnis actibus, Nos servet a nocentibus.”

Then, as the day advances, from the whole southern side a flood of light is poured into the building, gradually passing off towards evening, 'till all the glories of a setting sun, immediately opposite the western window, light up the nave with glowing tints, the rich effects being much increased by the partial obscurity of the choir-end at the time.”

“Now,” continues Mr. Pugin, “this beautiful passage of light from sunrise to sunset, with all its striking and sublime effects, is utterly lost in a church placed in any other than an ancient position. In short, there are both mystical and natural reasons for adhering to antiquity in this practice, a departure from which can only be justified under the most urgent necessity.”

In more advanced ages we find the necessity for larger churches producing new efforts in art, guided by the old principles, and harmoniously blending symbolism, fitness, and expression with sublime and beautiful effects. Churches were now built in the cruciform and tripartite arrangement, which were symbolical of the great dogmas of the Christian faith—the redemption of mankind, and the Trinity in unity. “In this case you will find the same great Christian verities, the Trinity and the atonement, expressed in a different, but perfectly consistent manner. The atonement is shadowed forth in the grand form of the church—the cross, which is the foundation of the whole. To signify the Holy Trinity, we have, first of all, the threefold division lengthwise into the nave, transepts, and choir; and then the threefold division breadthwise, of the nave or choir, and two aisles,

“Three solemn parts together twine In harmony's mysterious line; Three solemn aisles approach the shrine, Yet all are one.”

In the exterior elevation, the two western towers, with the central tower, with which they are necessarily associated in the view of the whole building as we approach it, follow the same ternary arrangement; and in the interior elevation, we have the like in the three stories of the nave and choir, viz.: the first tier of arches, separating the nave and choir, respectively, from the aisles on either side; the triforium, and the clerestory.”

Descending to the examination of minor details of arrangement, we find the same appropriateness, joined in most cases with the same suggestive symbolism. Thus, for example, the baptismal font was situate near the entrance door, to typify the admission of the newly baptized into the spiritual church, by their entrance to the material edifice. The chancel contained the piscina, which was a niche in the side wall, with a ground drain, by which the water used by the priest at the ablution of his hands, was conveyed into the earth. The sedilia were seats, in which the priest and deacons sat during such parts of the Mass as were sung by the choir. They were generally raised one a little above the other, to accord with the steps of the altar, and to symbolise the different degrees of the clerical order; the priest sitting in the highest place, and the deacon and sub-deacon in succeeding graduation.

The subject of arrangement is in itself so extensive, that an attempt to examine it in all its features, would far exceed our present limits. Confining ourselves, however, to the few varieties we have mentioned, we think few persons will care to deny that they were strictly symbolical in spirit, and appropriate, in as much as they were apt adaptations of the means to the end required—the reception of the faithful within a material fabric to witness the solemn rites of religion, and the elevation of their souls to spiritual things, by material agencies. Who, even of our cold generation, could enter one of our primitive Irish churches, and not participate in the feelings so eloquently expressed by Mr. Petrie, in reference to their former state: “Yet in their symmetrical simplicity—their dimly lighted nave entered by its central west doorway, and terminated on the other side by its chancel arch, affording to the devout worshipper an unimpeded view of the brighter sanctuary in which were celebrated the Divine mysteries which afforded him consolation in this life, and hope in the next—in the total absence of every thing that could distract his attention—there is an expression of fitness to their purpose, too often wanted in modern temples of higher pretensions; as the artless strains sung to the Creator, which we may believe were daily hymned in these unadorned temples, were calculated, from their simplicity and artlessness, to awaken feelings of deep devotion, which the gorgeous artificial music of the modern cathedral but too rarely excites, even in minds most predisposed to feel its influences, and appreciate its refinement.” Or can any one doubt, on the other hand, that the varied play of light and shade, the multiplied perspectives, the indistinctness of some prospects, the seeming


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19 in disobeying that monarch? "Therefore (says the sacred text,) God dealt well with them, and made them houses" Ex. i. What was the conduct of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, when Nebuchadnezzar set up a golden image in the plain of Dura, and commanded all people, nations, and languages, to fall down and worship it? "Be it known, unto thee, (said these faithful Jews) O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the image which thou hast set up." Did these men do right in disobeying the law of their sovereign? Let their miraculous deliverance from the burning fiery furnace, answer; Dan. iii. What was the conduct of Daniel, when Darius made a firm decree that no one should ask a petition of any man or God for thirty days? Did the prophet cease to pray? No! "When Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house, and his windows being open towards Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime." Did Daniel do right thus to break the law of his king? Let his wonderful deliverance out of the mouths of the lions answer; Dan. vii. Look, too, at the Apostles Peter and John. When the rulers of the Jews, "commanded them not to speak at all, nor teach in the name of Jesus," what did they say? "Whether it be right in the sight of God, to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye." And what did they do? "They spake the word of God with boldness, and with great power gave the Apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus;" although this was the very doctrine, for the preaching of which, they had just been cast into prison, and further threatened. Did these men do right? I leave you to answer, who now enjoy the benefits of their labors and sufferings, in that Gospel they dared to preach when positively commanded not to teach any more in the name of Jesus; Acts iv.

But some of you may say, if we do free our slaves, they will be taken up and sold, therefore there will be no use in doing it. Peter and John might just as well have said, we will not preach the gospel, for if we do, we shall be taken up and put in prison, therefore there will be no use in our preaching. Consequences, my friends, belong no more to you, than they did to these apostles. Duty is ours and events are God's. If you think slavery is sinful, all you have to do is to set your slaves at liberty, do all you can to protect them, and in humble faith and fervent prayer, commend them to your common Father. He can take care of them; but if for wise purposes he sees fit to allow them to be sold, this will afford you an opportunity of testifying openly, wherever you go, against the crime of mansteallng. Such an act will be clear robbery, and if exposed, might, under the Divine direction, do the cause of Emancipation more good, than any thing that could happen, for, "He makes even the wrath of man to praise him, and the remainder of wrath he will restrain."

I know that this doctrine of obeying God, rather than man, will be considered as dangerous, and heretical by many, but I am not afraid openly to avow it, because it is the doctrine of the Bible; but I would not be understood to advocate resistance to any law however


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20, if, in obeying it, I was not obliged to commit sin. If for instance, there was a law, which imposed imprisonment or a fine upon me if I manumitted a slave, I would on no account resist that law, I would set the slave free, and then go to prison or pay the fine. If a law commands me to sin I will break it; if it calls me to suffer, I will let it take its course unresistingly. The doctrine of blind obedience and unqualified submission to any human power, whether civil or ecclesiastical, is the doctrine of despotism, and ought to have no place among Republicans and Christians.

But you will perhaps say, such a course of conduct would inevitably expose us to great suffering. Yes! my christian friends, I believe it would, but this will not excuse you or any one else for the neglect of duty. If Prophets and Apostles, Martyrs, and Reformers had not been willing to suffer for the truth's sake, where would the world have been now? If they had said, we cannot speak the truth, we cannot do what we believe is right, because the laws of our country or public opinion are against us, where would our holy religion have been now? The Prophets were stoned, imprisoned, and killed by the Jews. And why? Because they exposed and openly rebuked public sins; they opposed public optnion; had they held their peace, they all might have lived in ease and died in favor with a wicked generation. Why were the Apostles persecuted from city to city, stoned, incarcerated, beaten, and crucified? Because they dared to speak the truth; to tell the Jews, boldly and fearlessly, that they were the murderers of the Lord of Glory, and that, however great a stumbling-block the Cross might be to them, there was no other name given under heaven by which men could be saved, but the name of Jesus. Because they declared, even at Athens, the seat of learning and refinement, the self-evident truth, that "they be no gods that are made with men's hands," and exposed to the Grecians the foolishness of worldly wisdom, and the impossibility of salvation but through Christ, whom they despised on account of the ignominious death he died. Because at Rome, the proud mistress of the world, they thundered out the terrors of the law upon that idolatrous, war-making, and slaveholding community. Why were the martyrs stretched upon the rack, gibbetted and burnt, the scorn and diversion of a Nero, whilst their tarred and burning bodies sent up a light which illuminated the Roman capital? Why were the Waldenses hunted like wild beasts upon the mountains of Piedmont, and slain with the sword of the Duke of Savoy and the proud monarch of France? Why were the Presbyterians chased like the partridge over the highlands of Scotland—the Methodists pumped, and stoned, and pelted with rotten eggs—the Quakers incarcerated in filthy prisons, beaten, whipped at the cart's tail, banished and hung? Because they dared to speak the truth, to break the unrighteous laws of their country, and chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, "not accepting deliverance," even under the gallows. Why were Luther and Calvin persecuted and excommunicated, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer burnt? Because they fearlessly proclaimed the truth, though that truth was


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 Letters from Switzerland

, a few years ago, the copies of the following letters were first made known to us, it was asserted that they had been found among Werther's papers; and it was pretended, that, before his acquaintance with Charlotte, he had been in Switzerland. We have never seen the originals: however, we would not on any account anticipate the judgment and feelings of our readers; for, whatever may be their true history, it is impossible to read them without sympathy.

 PART THE FIRST.

How do all my descriptions disgust me, when I read them over! Nothing but your advice, your command, your injunction, could have induced me to attempt anything of the kind. How many descriptions, too, of these scenes, had I not read before I saw them! Did these, then, afford me an image of them, or, at best, but a mere vague notion? In vain did my imagination attempt to bring the objects before it: in vain did my mind try to revolve from them some thoughts. Here I now stand contemplating these wonders; and what are my feelings in the midst of them! I can think of nothing, I can feel nothing;  3


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21 contrary to public opinion, and the authority of Ecclesiastical councils and conventions. Now all this vast amount of human suffering might have been saved. All these Prophets and Apostles, Martyrs, and Reformers, might have lived and died in peace with all men, but following the example of their great pattern, "they despised the shame, endured the cross, and are now set down on the right hand of the throne of God," having received the glorious welcome of "well done good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord."

But you may say we are women, how can our hearts endure persecution? And why not? Have not women stood up in all the dignity and strength of moral courage to be the leaders of the people, and to bear a faithful testimony for the truth whenever the providence of God has called them to do so? Are there no women in that noble army of martyrs who are now singing the song of Moses and the Lamb? Who led out the women of Israel from the house of bondage, striking the timbrel, and singing the song of deliverance on the banks of that sea whose waters stood up like walls of crystal to open a passage for their escape? It was a woman; Miriam, the prophetess, the sister of Moses and Aaron. Who went up with Barak to Kadesh to fight against Jabin, King of Canaan, into whose hand Israel had been sold because of their iniquities? It was a woman! Deborah the wife of Lapidoth, the judge, as well as the prophetess of that backsliding people; Judges iv, 9. Into whose hands was Sisera, the captain of Jabin's host delivered? Into the hand of a woman. Jael the wife of Heber! Judges vi, 21. Who dared to speak the truth concerning those judgments which were coming upon Judea, when Josiah, alarmed at finding that his people "had not kept the word of the Lord to do after all that was written in the book of the Law," sent to enquire of the Lord concerning these things? It was a woman. Huldah the prophetess, the wife of Shallum; 2, Chron. xxxiv, 22. Who was chosen to deliver the whole Jewish nation from that murderous decree of Persia's King, which wicked Haman had obtained by calumny and fraud? It was a woman; Esther the Queen; yes, weak and trembling woman was the instrument appointed by God, to reverse the bloody mandate of the eastern monarch, and save the whole visible church from destruction. What human voice first proclaimed to Mary that she should be the mother of our Lord? It was a woman! Elizabeth, the wife of Zacharias; Luke i, 42, 43. Who united with the good old Simeon in giving thanks publicly in the temple, when the child, Jesus, was presented there by his parents, "and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem?" It was a woman! Anna the prophetess. Who first proclaimed Christ as the true Messiah in the streets of Samaria, once the capital of the ten tribes? It was a woman! Who ministered to the Son of God whilst on earth, a despised and persecuted Reformer, in the humble garb of a carpenter? They were women! Who followed the rejected King of Israel, as his fainting footsteps trod the road to Calvary? "A great company of people and of women;" and it is remarkable that to them alone, he turned


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4 and how willingly would I both think and feel! The glorious scene before me excites my soul to its inmost depths, and impels me to be doing; and yet what can I do—what do I? I now sit down and scribble and describe. Away with you, ye descriptions! Delude my friend, make him believe that I am doing something,—that he sees and reads something.

Were, then, these Switzers free?—free, these opulent burghers in their little pent-up towns?—free, those poor devils on their rocks and crags? What is it that man cannot be made to believe, especially when he cherishes in his heart the memory of some old tale of marvel? Once, forsooth, they did break a tyrant's yoke, and might, for the moment, fancy themselves free; but out of the carcass of the single oppressor the good sun, by a strange new birth, has hatched a swarm of petty tyrants. And so, now, they are ever telling that old tale of marvel: one hears it till one is sick of it. They formerly made themselves free, and have ever since remained free; and now they sit behind their walls, hugging themselves with their customs and laws—their philandering and philistering. And there, too, on the rocks, it is surely fine to talk of liberty, when for six months of the year they, like the marmot, are bound hand and foot by the snow.

Alas! how wretched must any work of man look in the midst of this great and glorious Nature, but especially such sorry, poverty-stricken works as these black and dirty little towns, such mean heaps of stones and rubbish! Large rubble and other stones on the roofs, too, that the miserable thatch may not be carried off from the top of them; and then the filth, the dung, and the gaping idiots! When here you meet with man and the wretched work of his hands, you are glad to run away immediately from both.


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Rh That there are in man very many intellectual capacities which in this life he is unable to develop, which, therefore, point to a better future and to a more harmonious state of existence,—on this point we are both agreed. But, further than this, I cannot give up that other fancy of mine, even though, on account of it, you may again call me, as you have so often done already, a mere enthusiast. For my part, I do think that man feels conscious, also, of corporeal qualities of whose mature expansion he can have no hope in this life. This, most assuredly, is the case with flying. How strongly, at one time, used the clouds, as they drove along the blue sky, to tempt me to travel with them to foreign lands! and now in what danger do I stand, lest they should carry me away with them from the mountain-peak as they sweep violently by! What desire I feel to throw myself into the boundless regions of the air, to poise over the terrific abyss, or to alight on some otherwise inaccessible rock! With what a longing do I draw deeper and deeper breath, when, in the dark blue depth below me, the eagle soars over rocks and forests, or, in company and in sweet concord with his mate, wheels in wide circles round the eyry to which he has entrusted his young! Must I, then, never do more than creep up to the summits? Must I always go on clinging to the highest rocks, as well as to the lowest plain? and when I have at last, with much toil, reached the desired eminence, must I still anxiously grasp at every holding-place, shudder at the thought of return, and tremble at the chance of a fall?

With what wonderful properties we are born! What vague aspirations rise within us! How rarely do imagination and our bodily powers work in opposition! Peculiarities of my early boyhood again recur. While I am walking, and have a long road before me, my arms go dangling by my side; I at times make a