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74 face of a youthful Englishman, whose eyes might already have known Gethsemane.

For a while, and until the sensitive, harassed spirit almost broke beneath the strain, Father Gerard laboured in the slums of Liverpool. Thence he passed to a professorship in the philosophic precincts of Stonyhurst. Finally, in 1884, having been elected Fellow of the Royal University of Ireland, he was appointed to the post of classical-examiner at Dublin. And there, five years later, he succumbed to a contagious fever and died. It was a bloodless martyrdom—one knows that now—a story of tragic consecration to duty and of a heart predestined to suffering. And the poetic life was but the silent, passionate undercurrent to this all-absorbing ministry—a life too ruthlessly mortified at first, then cultivated sedulously, intricately, but more and more as a refuge from actual things.

Gerard Hopkins had written poetry as a boy; in fact (like Milton and Crashaw, and some others never destined to attain their eminence), his verses won him distinction at school. But in the first fervour of his novitiate, and doubtless as a costly exercise of detachment, he burned nearly all these youthful poems. One fragment survived, a "Vision of Mermaids," written back in 1862. Its lyric sweetness carries a momentary suggestion of Tennyson, but in its sensuous love of beauty there is an abiding affinity to the poet of Endymion. Here is a vignette of early summer, charming in its blithe and sunny abandonment:—

Soon—as when Summer of his sister Spring Crushes and tears the rare enjewelling, And boasting "I have fairer things than these," Plashes amid the billowy apple-trees His lusty hands, in gusts of scented wind Swirling out bloom till all the air is blind

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Rh

With rosy foam and pelting blossom and mists Of driving vermeil rain; and, as he lists The dainty onyx-coronals deflowers, A glorious wanton;—all the wrecks in showers Crowd down upon a stream, and jostling thick With bubbles bugle-eyed, struggle and stick On tangled shoals that bar the brook—a crowd Of filmy globes and rosy floating cloud.

The melodiousness, the simplicity of metre and the colour of this early poem are all notable; but still one feels that the poet, whose touch was most indubitably here, had yet to "find himself."

"The Habit of Perfection," quoted above rather as a page of character-revelation than as a piece of art, was written four years later. It is in all ways more significant. For, while retaining that delicate and exquisite sweetness, it bears distinct prophecy of those characteristics which were to mark the poet's maturer work; the subjectivity and intensity of feeling, the eccentricity of expression and preoccupation with spiritual ideas are all here foreshadowed. It is, indeed, one of the most interesting and revealing of his poems—the Abrenuntio of a pure and cloistral spirit. But it came perilously near being valedictory as well. For almost ten years after he entered the Jesuit novitiate, Gerard Hopkins' poetic labours ceased, and his lips seem literally to have "shaped nothing" but the mighty offices of his calling. When the young Levite turned once more to the world, her immemorial face had manifold and mysterious meanings for him. With the poet's sensuous appreciation of the outer life was to mingle henceforth a vein of ethical and divine interpretation. Omnia Creata—had he not weighed and sounded this world of shadow and symbol and enigma? But two realities abode steadfast: God, and the struggling soul of man.

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

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76 We will admit that all this is emphatically Ignatian—but it is also emphatically Catholic; it is even the story of every illumined soul. Nature is first a pageant to us, and then a process; until at last we perceive it to be, in Goethe's words, the "garment of God"—and withal, the enveloping mantle of man. This deepening of vision is very noticeable throughout Father Hopkins' work. Yet always the world was fresh to him, as it is fresh to children and to the very mature. At every turn, and by sheer force of his own vivid individuality, he was finding that "something of the unexplored," that "grain of the unknown" which Flaubert so sagely counselled de Maupassant to seek in all things, but which none of us may ever hope to find until we cease looking upon life through the traditional lenses of other eyes. Therefore was Father Hopkins Ignatian in his own very personal way. Few men have loved Nature more rapturously than he; fewer still with such a youthful and perennial curiosity. There is a tender excitement in his attitude toward natural beauty (whether treated incidentally or as a parable) that is very contagious, and the exultation of that early and earthly "Vision" clung to the Churchman almost with life itself. Nature, indeed, was his one secular inspiration; and that even she was not wholly secular is evinced by the characteristic music of his spring song:

Nothing is so beautiful as spring— When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush: Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and ring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy pear-tree leaves and blooms, they brush The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush With richness; the racing lambs, too, have fair their fling.

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What is all this juice and all this joy? A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning In Eden garden. Have, get before it cloy, Before it cloud, Christ Lord, and sour with sinning, Innocent mind and May day in girl and boy, Most, O Maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Here, at last, in one of the most hackneyed of poetic subjects and after an opening line almost banal, we are come upon an original vein of poetry; a spiritual motivation, a vigour of word-painting, and a metrical proficiency of very real distinction. It was written in 1877, and its existence argues for Father Hopkins more than a mere dilettante use of the poetic faculty. Another poem of the same year, "The Starlight Night," is almost equally striking in music and in metaphor. But it must be acknowledged that both of these poems bear traces of that eccentricity, that curious and perverse construction, which point forward to Father Hopkins' eventual excesses. Lucidity was the chief grace he sacrificed as years wore on; and his fondness for uncommon words—at one moment academic and literate, at another provincial—did not help matters. "Inversnaid" (written in 1881) is an extreme instance of this later manner: there is about it a certain bounding and prancing charm, but in truth the stream's highroad is sadly obstructed by Anglo-Saxon and other archaic undergrowth. Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern and the groins of the braes that the brook treads through, send the reader's mind back with some ruefulness to that lovely random line from the "Vision of Mermaids":

We are not born original in these latter days

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78 of literature, it would seem; we must achieve originality—and often at the cost of so much complexity. Not a few of us, indeed, would appear to have been born complex, with a congenital impulse toward entangling an existence already difficult enough. But there is one ineradicable simplicity about religious men: they are always coming back upon God. To Him they reach out, and peradventure attain, through the mysteries of Nature, through the mazes of science and abstract speculation, even through the fundamental intricacies of their own temperament. His Spirit they perceive brooding above the patient earth, glorifying and illumining her travail. And so one finds Father Hopkins' ulti-mate message, clarion-clear, in this very direct and characteristic sonnet upon "God's Grandeur":

The vital and arresting quality of this little poem distinguishes all of Gerard Hopkins' religious poetry; and it is in his religious poetry, after all, that he attained most unequivocally.

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Rh There is an invariable quickness and reality in his work—although at moments it may also be a bit fantastic—at the very point where the tendency of so many others is to become a little cold or a little sweet. One may search for many a long day among the treasures of English verse before one shall find such a powerful and poetic meditation upon the Holy Eucharist as he has left us. We quote but two stanzas of "Barnfloor and Winepress," although the entire poem ought to have the recognition due to a devotional classic:

In quite other vein, and of real lyric charm, is Rosa Mystica. Father Hopkins has contrived to throw a glamour of simplicity and ingenuousness over thoughts by no means simple; while the use of assonance and alliteration (frequent and nearly always felicitous throughout his work) and of the

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80 refrain, provide a very rhythmic vehicle. There was a rose-tree blooming once upon Nazareth Hill, he tells us—with the playful seriousness of some old ballad—but it passed from men's eyes into the secret place of God: and cannot the heart guess the name of this sweet mystery?

Though Francis Thompson was, in life and in death, hailed as the successor of Crashaw, the mantle of that mystic dreamer fell even more truly upon the shoulders of Gerard Hopkins. His was the same wistful pathos and resolute detachment from life's more passional aspects. In both men there was a similar tragic sensitiveness—an inevitable recoil from the inconsistency and ugliness and corruption which are a part of human existence. So it seems natural enough, despite the intervening centuries, that even the objective facts of their lives should bear a curious resemblance; and that both poets should pass, painfully but unreluctantly, into the larger life, wearied and forespent ere half their years.

But we have yet to consider an ode of sustained beauty and ecstasy, his longest and perhaps most

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Rh ambitious effort, which, lacking a better title, I have ventured to call "Our Lady of the Air." It is built round a unique and apt metaphor:

Wild air, world-mothering Air,

Nestling me everywhere,

That each eyelash or hair

Girdles; goes home betwixt

The fleeciest, frailest-fixed

Snowflake; that's fairly mixed

With riddles, and is rife

In every least thing's life;

This needful, never spent,

And nursing element;

My more than meat and drink,

My meal at every wink;

This Air which, by life's law,

My lung must draw and draw,

Now but to breathe its praise—

Minds me in many ways

Of her, who not only

Gave God's Infinity

Dwindled to Infancy

Welcome in womb and breast,

Birth, milk and all the rest,

But mothers each new grace

That does now reach our race—

Mary Immaculate,

Merely a Woman, yet

Whose presence power is

Great as no goddess's

Was deemèd, dreamèd; who

This one work has to do—

Let all God's glory through,

God's glory which would go

Through her and from her flow

Off, and no way but so.

If I have understood

She holds high Motherhood

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82

Towards all our ghostly good, And plays in grace her part About man's beating heart, Laying, like air's fine flood, The death-dance in his blood; Yet no part but what will Be Christ our Saviour still. Of her flesh He took Flesh:

He does take, fresh and fresh, Though much the mystery how, Not flesh but spirit now; And makes, oh, marvellous, New Nazareths in us, Where she shall yet conceive Him, morning, noon, and eve; New Bethlems, and He born There evening, noon, and morn— Bethlem or Nazareth, Men here may draw like breath More Christ and baffle death; Who born so comes to be New self and nobler me In each one, and each one More makes, when all is done, Both God and Mary's Son.

In a passage beginning—

the poet analyses the essential mission of the atmosphere, and the blinding, staggering possibilities of a universe unslaked by this "bath of blue." Then the simile is brought to a tender and beautiful conclusion:—

So God was God of old; A Mother came to mould

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Rh

These limbs like ours which are What must make our Day-star Much dearer to mankind; Whose glory bare would blind, Or less would win man's mind. Through her we may see Him Made sweeter, not made dim; And her hand leaves His light Sifted, to suit our sight.

There exist but a few other poems bearing Father Hopkins' name. A short but characteristic piece, "Morning, Midday and Evening Sacrifice," should be included among the devotional lyrics; also that direct and manly "Hymn" referred to earlier. And there is one white rose of a fragment, so brief and so exquisite that we give it entire:—

HEAVEN HAVEN.

Thinking about Heaven makes all of us wistful; but it is pondering on the tear-stains and blood-stains of earth that crushes out the joy of life. Father Gerard had, seemingly from boyhood, a dangerous realisation of this omnipresent sorrow of living; his own experience did not tend to lighten the burden, and throughout his later years the weight was well-nigh intolerable. Sanely

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32 precautionary measures to prevent surprise, being now rendered doubly necessary; as it was reasonable to suppose, that the natives, (distinct and recent traces of whom had been observed during the day,) might be attracted to the spot by the fires, which were blazing in all directions around us. After these arrangements, we severally betook ourselves to rest.

The spot where the Captain and myself slept last night, had been, by the care of some of our comrades, converted into a very pretty bower,—branches of trees being interwoven on the east and west sides of the rock, the ensign spread over the top, soft twigs strewed on the sand, and the whole ornamented with various flowers. We were pleased with this spontaneous attention, and slept soundly till about two o'clock in the morning, when we got up, for the purpose of making some observations, with a view to determine the longitude; the distance between "Jupiter" and the Moon's remote, and between "Fomalhaut" and her near limb, were measured carefully several times; and the observations thus made being reserved for calculation, when time and place might be more convenient, the observers resumed their repose till the dawn of day.

As soon as daylight appeared, preparations were made for our departure; before embarking, I recommended, both by precept and example, a long swim,—to exercise and fatigue the limbs, now about to be cramped and confined for some time. We also thought it not amiss to take a good breakfast, which the cooks, who

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84 enough he gauged the cause of so much bitterness; it was the "blight man was born for" if he happened to be an idealist—it was the conscious-ness of his own too-twisted nature. "It is Margaret you mourn for," he told one little Margaret as she grieved over the falling glory of autumn; but none the less, outer conditions will all along furnish the occasion of Margaret's grief. There cannot be any doubt that Father Hopkins' life in Dublin was a final crucifixion of spirit as well as body. It was not only the monotonous and consuming toil of his position as examiner in the University; it was not merely the political irregularity and unreason by which he was perforce surrounded; although we are told that these combined to plunge his final years into a state of utter dejection. One of the sonnets of this period (all of which are coloured by an ominous and leaden grey) reveals his sense of exile—"To seem the stranger lies my lot—my life among strangers"— and expresses his human and priestly sorrow that

But there is another which would seem to indicate that the cause of Father Hopkins' darkness lay deeper down than loneliness (too familiar to the sons of St. Ignatius) or than any normal weariness of the day's work. Few lines of such haunting sadness have come to us from the hand of any Christian poet:

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Rh One must needs surmise a great part of this final struggle; but it would seem to illustrate that spiritual phenomenon of desolation which has immersed so many a chosen soul. For full thirty years was St. Teresa in this desert land, where frustration reigns in all visible things, and to lose the life without finding it again seems the guerdon of superhuman effort. Of course, it is impossible to write healthy poetry in the depths of this tragic experience; and Father Hopkins was too true a poet not to realise the fact. He submitted, the very year of his death, his noble and highly masterful apologia:

His winter world! It was destined sooner than he dreamed to give place to the unwaning spring. Robert Bridges (to whose words we turn once again, because the knowledge of a physician as well as the wisdom of a friend went into them) declares that he made no struggle for life when the fever of 1889 attacked him. He had fought his good fight and carried arms no longer; but the God of Battles knew. And on the 8th of June—the month he had loved so well—Gerard

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Rh had been early at work, had prepared for us. This being finished, every utensil capable of containing water was filled therewith; and all being properly arranged in the boats, about six o'clock, A.M., of the 22d of May, we left the island, not without regret, yet pleased, that we should no longer be annoyed with reefs and sand-banks. Not wishing to run the risk of finding a clear passage between any of the islands, we steered to the northward of the group, and then directed our course W. by S. across the gulf of Carpentaria.

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text: Narrative of a Voyage Round the World (Wilson)/Chapter 2


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[ 27 ] is half a yardland belonging to this manor, which was formerly Thaneland. Edricus held it T.R.E.

6. The King holds Bretforde, King Edward held it, and it was aeed at 1 hide. Here are 20 ploughlands. Two of which, with 6 ervants, and 10 coliberts, are in demene. Twelve villagers, 6 borderers, and 14 cottagers, occupy 17 ploughlands. Here are 2 mills of the value of 20 hillings, and 100 acres of meadow. The pature is a mile and a half long, and 3 quarters of a mile broad. This manor lets for 30 pounds by weight. The wood is in the King's hands, and from thence he receives 40 hillings. Obern the priet holds the church of this manor, with 1 hide of land that belongs to the church. It is worth 40 hillings.

7. The King holds Theodulveide. King Edward held it, and it was neither aeed nor hided.


text: Talk:Matthew Fontaine Maury

title: Talk:Matthew Fontaine Maury


text:
Talk:First International Maritime Conference Held for Devising an Uniform System of Meteorological Observations at Sea

Google Book editions (as of 12/25/2013)

 * Maritime conference held at Brussels for devising uniform system of meteorological observations at sea : Aug. and Sept. 1853. Conférence maritime tenue à Bruxelles pour l'adoption d'un système uniforme d'observations météorologiques à la mer. Aout et Sept. 1853 Bavarian State Library


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Linus

PARKER, Linus, American bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South: b. Oneida County, (N.Y.?) 1829; d. New Orieans, La., 5 March 1885. He went to New Orleans when a youth and found employment, studying Latin, Greek and other branches in his leisure time, and at the age of 21 entered the Louisiana Conference. He was for four years a circuit rider, then becoming pastor of various churches

in New Orleans and later presiding elder of his district. He edited the New Orleans Christian Advocate in 1870-82 and sat in the quadrennial sessions of the General Conference held during that time. He was elected bishop in 1882.


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weather was serene and apparently settled; and the eastern breeze blew steadily, by the influence of which we were propelled neither slowly nor unpleasantly over the undulating bosom of the emerald sea. We were also cheered by the indications of continued moderate weather, confirmed by the placid aspect of departing day.

The night came on, and every thing around us still wore a favourable appearance, and our spirits were buoyed up by the pleasing hope, that the issue of our enterprise might be prosperous.

The long-boat, in the centre, led the way; the skiff

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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Louis Napoleon

PARKER, Louis Napoleon, English dramatist and composer: b. Calados, France, 21 Oct. 1852. He was educated at Freiburg and the Royal Academy of Music, and was director of music in Sherborne School, Dorsetshire, 1877-96. In the latter year he removed to London and in 1898 was made a Fellow of the Royal Academy of Music. He is the author of many cantatas, such as ‘Silvia’ and the ‘Twenty-third Psalm,’ as well as many other musical compositions and of a large number of plays. Among the latter may be cited ‘Change Alley,’ and ‘The Man in the Street.’ He has also translated ‘Magda’; ‘L'Aiglon’; ‘Cyrano de Bergerac,’ and other dramas.


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Rh

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text: Narrative of a Voyage Round the World (Wilson)/Chapter 13


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xii

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xii

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Rh being stationed on one quarter, and the jolly-boat on the other. As before mentioned, we had a few candles; but they were reserved for use, in the event of the weather being hazy; and, while the sky was clear, we directed our course by the stars.

During the night, we proceeded at the rate of four miles an hour; nothing occurred to cause us any alarm, nor, from the appearance of early morn, did we apprehend any sudden change. The weather continued fine throughout the day, the sea smooth, the wind fair, and the boats kept close company. At noon, having ascertained our latitude and longitude, we kept on our course for New Year's Isle.

Now came "Saturday night at sea," a night commonly supposed to be dedicated by the sons of the waves to reminiscences of "sweethearts and wives," and to "the flowing bowl." This, however, is more in song than in reality;—at least, it has, in a great measure, like many other old customs, passed away; and, with all due regard to Dibdin's memory, it may be fairly doubted, whether the time be very fit to drink and sing "while the foaming billows roll." Be that as it may, we could only celebrate it in sober silence.

Since our departure from the islands, we had seen little to enliven our lonely way. A few "boobies" occasionally made their appearance; two of which, having this evening lighted on the boat, ware caught, and soon snapped up, without much ceremony of cooking. We passed a great number of sea-snakes, whose movements,

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86 Hopkins' soul marched quietly over the borderland to victory.

But little remains to be said. The poems have been permitted to speak for themselves, and if their faults are conspicuous enough, so, too, is their unique and magnetic attraction. No doubt this is in the nature of an acquired taste. They were not written for the public (during their maker's lifetime scarcely one of them was permitted to steal into print); they were written for the consolation of the poet and of a few chosen friends. And to such readers no concessions need be made. Coventry Patmore, Robert Bridges, and Richard Watson Dixon were of this elect little company. All were convinced of Father Hopkins' rare poetic ability, of the even "terrible pathos" (the words are Dixon's) which tempered his work; although Patmore (himself an experimentalist) was never quite won over to the metrical ingenuities and idiosyncrasies of his "new prosody." "System and learned theory are manifest in all these experiments; but they seem to me to be too manifest" wrote the worshipper of the Unknown Eros: "I often find it as hard to follow you as I have found it to follow the darkest parts of Browning."

Gerard Hopkins' exceedingly delicate and intricate craftsmanship—and not less the singularity of his mental processes—must, indeed, produce in many minds an impression of artificiality. Yet nothing could be further from the fact, for in

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Rh all the poems of his manhood there is a poignant, even a passionate sincerity. It is quite true that his elliptical and involved expression mars (for all but the very few who shared his theories of verse) more than one poem of rare and vital imagining. It is true also, and of the nature of the case, that our poet was to a certain degree self-centred in his dream of life. He was not an egoist; but it must be obvious that from first to last he was an individualist. And in our human reckoning the individualist pays, and then he pays again; and after that, in Wilde's phrase, he keeps on paying. Yet in the final count his chances of survival are excellent. Outside of the poets, Father Hopkins' work has had little recognition or understanding; but his somewhat exotic influence might easily be pointed out in one or two of the foremost Catholic singers of to-day and yesterday. And, for all its aloofness, the young priest's work struck root in the poetic past. Its subtle and complex fancifulness and its white heat of spirituality go back in direct line to that earlier Jesuit, Father Southwell; while one would wager that Hopkins knew and loved other seventeenth-century lyrists beside the very manifest Crashaw. It is by no means without significance, moreover, to note that Coventry Patmore's great Odes and Browning's masterpiece, The Ring and the Book, both appeared in that memorable 1868 when Gerard entered upon his novitiate. Those were the days when a young poet might, almost without public comment, fling out to the world his daring and beautiful gift.

Gerard Hopkins' poems are best known in a few precious anthologies. It is a truism to remark that merely great poetry is seldom popular; although the greatest of all poetry—that of Homer and Dante and Shakespeare—strikes a universal echo in the heart of man. It is inclusive, and it

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88 is written not as an escape from life but as the inevitable and impassioned expression of life itself. Now Gerard Hopkins' artistry was not of this supreme sort. He was essentially a minor poet; he wrote incredibly little and he interpreted but few phases of human experience. Yet, with the minor poet's distinctive merit, he worked his narrow field with completeness and intensity. And who can deny that the very quality which seemed, at worst, an eccentric and literate mannerism, proved itself in the finer passages a strikingly creative and authentic inspiration?

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By courtesy of Fr. Joseph Keating, S.J.

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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Matthew

PARKER, Matthew, second Protestant archbishop of Canterbury: b. Norwich, 6 Aug. 1504; d. Canterbury, 17 May 1578. He entered Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, in 1522, and was graduated in 1525. Two years afterward he was ordained priest, and elected Fellow of his college. His favorite studies were the Scriptures, the church fathers and other ecclesiastical writers. In 1535 he was made chaplain to Queen Anne Boleyn, who shortly before her death commended to his care her daughter Elizabeth. This appointment carried with it the deanery of the College of Saint John the Baptist at Stoke-by-Clare, in Suffolk. He early imbibed Reformation principles and, in 1537, after the death of Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII made him one of his chaplains, and about five years afterward appointed him canon of Ely. In 1544 he was appointed to the mastership of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, for which he compiled a new body of statutes; and in the following year was elected vice-chancellor of the university, and presented with the rectory of Land Beach. In 1547 he married Margaret Harlstone, the daughter of a Norfolkshire gentleman. In 1552 he was elected prebendary and afterward dean of Lincoln; but on the accession of Mary to the throne was stripped of these as well as his other preferments. A portion of his time he now spent in translating the Psalms into English verse. He also wrote a treatise, ‘De Conjugio Sacerdotum,’ defending the marriage of priests. When Elizabeth succeeded to the throne he was raised to the archbishopric of Canterbury, his consecration taking place 17 Dec. 1599. During his 15 years' primacy he labored to make clear the belief and discipline of the Church, and published his “Advertisements” for the regulation of divine service. In 1568 was published under his direction and his expense the Bishops' Bible, which was a revision of the text founded on Cranmer's translation; he was likewise prominently associated with those who drew up the Book of Common Prayer. He edited the histories of Matthew of Westminster, Matthew Paris and others; and had a considerable share in the work ‘De Antiquitate Britannicæ Ecclesiæ.’ Archbishop Parker was the founder of the Society of Antiquaries. His valuable collection of manuscripts relating to the civil and ecclesiastical history of England he presented to his

own college at Cambridge and founded a number of valuaible fellowships there. Consult ‘Life and Letters of Matthew Parker’ (Parker Society, 1853); Strype, ‘Life and Acts of Matthew Parker’ (1824); Hook, ‘Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury’ (1872).


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iv. 34-

1. The rice-mess which Prajāpati, first-born of righteousness, cooked with fervor (tápas) for Brahmán; which, separator of the worlds, shall not harm (?)—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

2. That by which the being-makers overpassed death; which they discovered by fervor, by toil (çráma); which the bráhman of old cooked for Brahmán—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

3. That which sustained the all-nourishing earth; which filled the atmosphere with sap; which, uplifted, established the sky with might—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

4. That out of which were fashioned the thirty-spoked months; out of which was fashioned the twelve-spoked year; that which circling days-and-nights did not attain—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

5. That which became breath-giving, possessing breath-giving ones (?); for which worlds rich in ghee flow; whose are all the light-filled directions—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

The pada-text does not divide prāṇadáḥ, and it makes the division prāṇadá॰vān, which the translation follows; our text (either by a misprint or by an unsuccessful

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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Peter

PARKER, Peter, American Congregationalist clergyman, physician and diplomat: b. Framingham, Mass., 18 June 1804; d. Washington, D. C, 10 Jan. 1888. He was graduated at Yale in 1831, took his M.D. there in 1834, and, having taken the theological course as well, was ordained in the ministry in that year and sent to China as a missionary. He established a hospital for diseases of the eye at Canton immediately after his arrival, but found other needs for medical attention so urgent that he admitted a wide variety of cases, 2,000 patients being cared for in the first year. He gained fame as a surgeon, acted in the capacity of a preacher, and also trained a number of natives in medicine and surgery. He closed his hospital during the war between China and England in 1840 and revisited the United States, but returned to China in 1842 and reopened the hospital, increasing its staff and capacity. He severed his connection with the American Board of Missions in 1845, and while retaining charge of the hospital acted as interpreter for the United States embassy, serving as chargé d'affaires when the minister was absent. He returned to the United States for the benefit of his health in 1855, but in the same year accepted an appointment of the United States government as a commissioner to China, with power to revise the treaty of 1844. He remained in China in connection with this work in 1855-57 and then resigned. He was a regent of the Smithsonian Institute from 1868. Author of ‘Journal of an Expedition from Singapore to Japan’ (1838); ‘A Statement Respecting Hospitals in China’ (1841); ‘Notes of Surgical Practice Among the Chinese’ (1846), etc.


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209 attempt at emendation) reads -dā́vān; -dā́vā, as nom. of -dā́van, might be an improvement; the comm. reads -davām, viewing it as gen. pl. of prāṇa-dū, from dū 'burn,' and he explains it as "moribund" (mumūrṣu: prāṇāir jigamiṣubhiḥ paritāpyante)!

6. From which, when cooked, the immortal (amṛ́ta) came into being; which was the over-lord of the gāyatrī́; in which are deposited the Vedas of all forms—by that rice-mess let me overpass death.

7. I beat down the hater, the god-insulter; what rivals are mine, let them be [driven] away; I cook the all-conquering bráhman-rice-mess; let the gods hear me who am full of faith.

1. Them let him of real force burn forth—Agni Vāiçvānara, the bull; whoso shall abuse and seek to harm us, likewise whoso shall play the niggard toward us.

2. Whoso shall seek to harm us not seeking to harm, and whoso seeks to harm us seeking to harm—in the two tusks of Agni Vāiçvānara do I set him.

3. They who hunt in assent (? āgará), in counter-clamor (? pratikroçá), on new-moon [day], the flesh-eating ones, seeking to harm others—all those I overpower with power.

The obscure words āgará and pratikroçá are here translated mechanically, according to their surface etymology. The comm. gets the former from gṛ or gir 'swallow,' and defines it as yuddharan̄ga, because samantād bhajyate māṅsaçoṇitādikam atra; the latter is pratikūlāiḥ çatrubhiḥ kṛta ākroçe; while mṛgayante means "desire to

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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Theodore

PARKER, Theodore, American clergyman and social reformer: b. Lexington, Mass., 24 Aug. 1810; d. Florence, Italy, 10 May 1860. He was the youngest of 11 children and received his early education at home. He took the arts course at Harvard, studying at home and visiting Cambridge for the examinations; and though he was unable thus to obtain a degree in course, that of M.A. was conferred upon him honoris causa in 1840. In 1834-36 he studied at the Cambridge Divinity School, and after preaching as a candidate was ordained 21 June 1837 and installed as pastor of the West Roxbury Unitarian Church. It was soon noised about that he was not in agreement with the Unitarian position of the time. His outspokenness had already won for him the reproach of “infidel,” and many of the Unitarian clergy had found exchanges of pulpit with him inconvenient before his discourse on ‘The Transient and Permanent in Christianity’ at the ordination of C. C. Shackford at South Boston, 19 May 1841. In this sermon Parker denied the special authority of the Bible, the supernatural origin of Christianity and the supernatural character and divine mission of Christ. It is perhaps not surprising that most pulpits were now closed against him, and that his name was associated wtth those of leaders of irreligion. His

own congregation gave him steadfast support. He did not withdraw from the Unitarian Church, believing, apparently, that that Church was liberal enough to suffer a freedom of thought even so great as his; while the Church never formally expelled him from its ministry, being, it would seem, reluctant to afford him the prestige which might result from such action. But he was thenceforth actually an independent preacher. In 1846 he became pastor at Boston of what he always called the “Twenty-eighth Congregational Society.” Services were held until 1852 in the Melodeon, and in 1852-59 in the Music Hall, whose 3,000 seats were generally fully occupied. The regular membership was never large, but all shades of religious dissatisfaction there assembled, and many others were drawn by Parker's championship of humanitarian endeavors, especially of anti-slavery reform. In this cause “probably no one — not Garrison, not Phillips himself,” says Frothingham, “did more to awaken and enlighten the conscience of the North.” He was a leader in the committee of vigilance, received runaway slaves, fought the rendition of such and aided their escapes. For many years he was a popular lecturer, and to this activity gave much time. Both in the pulpit and on the platform he had none of the arts of the practised orator, but carried weight rather by his massive knowledge, deep conviction, frankness and vigorous and often picturesque English. Ill-health compelled the foreign sojourn during which he died. He was editor of the Massachusetts Quarterly Review in 1849-51, and wrote, besides sermons, several works, including ‘Historic Americans’ (1870) and ‘Views of Religion’ (1885), which have been collected by F. P. Cobbe (1870). For his peculiarly individual religious beliefs consult Clarke, ‘Parker and his Theology’ (1859); and the ‘Lives’ by Frothingham (1874) and Chadwick (1901); ‘The Works of Theodore Parker’ (10 vols., Boston 1912).


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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, Willard

PARKER, Willard, American surgeon: b. Hillsborough, N. H., 2 Sept. 1800; d. New York, 25 April 1884. He was graduated from Harvard in 1826, studied medicine and took his degree there in 1830, when he accepted a professorship in the Berkshire Medical College, Pittsfield, Mass. In 1836 he accepted the chair of surgery in the Cincinnati Medical College, but removed in 1839 to New York, where he had been appointed professor of surgery in the College of Physicians and Surgeons, which position he held for 30 years. He established a large practice in New York and as a surgeon he took high rank, making many advances in methods as well as important discoveries. He established the first college clinic in the United States at the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1840; organized the New York Pathological Society in 1843; the New York Academy of Medicine in 1847, of which he was president for many years after 1856. From 1865 he was president of the State Inebriate Asylum at Binghamton, where his conduct of the management was very successful. He was consulting physician at the leading New York hospitals and connected with many medical organizations.


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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Parker, William Belmont

PARKER, William Belmont, American editor: b. Hasbury, England, 19 Sept. 1871. He came to the United States in early youth, was

graduated at Harvard in 1897, and in 1898-1902 was assistant editor of the Atlantic Monthly. He was literary adviser to Houghton, Mifflin and Company, New York, in 1902-04; instructor in English at Harvard in 1904-05 and lecturer in that subject at Columbia in 1905-08. He was advisory editor of the Associated Sunday Magazines in 1906-08, and literary editor of the World's Work in 1908. He was editor and literary adviser to the Baker and Taylor Company in 1909-12, and literary adviser to the Century Company in 1912. He was business manager of the Churchman in 1912-14, and has been an editor with S. Pearson and Son since 1914. He edited Lowell's ‘Anti-Slavery Papers’ (1903); Sir Philip Sidney's ‘Certaine Sonets’ (1904); ‘Complete Poems of Edward Rowland Sill’ (1906); ‘The Wisdom of Emerson’ (1909); and was joint editor of ‘Letters and Addresses of Thomas Jefferson’ (1905). Author of ‘Life of Edward Rowland Sill’ (1915).


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[ 28 ] ''Terra et 40 carucatæ. In dominio unt 9 carucatæ et 22 ervi et 10 coliberti. Ibi 34 villani et 32 cozets, cum 18 carucatis. Ibi 9 molini de 100 olidis, et 30 denariis, et 66 burgenes reddentes 50 olidos. Ibi 1 leuca prati longa et dimidium leucæ latum. Patura 1 leuca et dimidium longa et una leuca larga. Silva 2 leucæ longæ et una leuca lata. Hoc manerium reddit firmam unius noctis cum conuetudinibus uis. Valet 100 libræ ad numerum.''

8. Rex tenet Contone.'' Heraldus Comes tenuit, et pro 10 hidis geldavit. Terra et 10 carucatæ. In dominio unt 2 carucataæ, et 2 ervi, et 28 villani, et 2 bordarii cum 8 carucatis. Ibi molinus de 12 olidis et 6 denariis, et 20 acræ prati, et 8 acræ paturæ, et 15 acræ ilva. Hoc manerium reddit 12 libras ad penum.'' 9. Rex


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[ 29 ] hided. Here are 40 ploughlands; 9 of which, with 22 ervants, and 10 coliberts, are in demene. Thirty-four villagers and 32 cottagers occupy 18 ploughlands. Here are 9 mills of the value of 100 hillings and 30 pence. Sixty-ix burgees pay 50 hillings. The meadow is a mile and a half long, and 3 quarters of a mile broad. The pature is 2 miles and a quarter long, and a mile and a half broad. This manor provides one night's entertainment for the King, with all it's uual cutoms. It is worth 100 pounds by tale.

8. The King holds Contone. The Earl Harold held it, and it was aeed at 10 hides. Here are 10 ploughlands; 2 of which, with 2 ervants, are in demene. And 28 villagers and 2 borderers occupy the other 8 ploughlands. Here is a mill of the value of 12 hillings and ixpence, and 20 acres of meadow, and 8 acres of pature, and 15 acres of wood. This manor is let for 12 pounds by weight. 9. The


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[ 26 ] 6. Rex tenet Bretforde.'' Rex Edwardus tenuit et pro una hida geldavit. Terra et 20 carucata. In dominio unt 2 carucatæ, et ervi, et 10 coliberti. Ibi 12 villani et 6 bordarii, et 14 cozets, cum 17 carucatis. Ibi 2 molini de 10 olidis et 100 acræ prati. Patura 1 leuca longa et dimidium leuca latum. Hoc manerium reddit 30 libras ad penum. Silva et in manu regis et inde habet 40 olidos in firma ua. Hujus manerii eccleiam tenet Obernus prebyter cum una hida terræ pertinenti eccleiæ. Valet 40 olidi.''

7. Rex tenet Theodulveide.'' Rex Edwardus tenuit. Non geldavit nec hidata uit.'' Terra


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[ 24 ] ''et 100 carucatæ. In dominio unt 16 carucatæ et 28 ervi. Ibi 48 villani et 45 bordarii, et 20 cozets, et 23 porcarii, inter omnes hahent 66 carucatas. Ibi 12 molini de 6 libris, et 100 acræ prati. Silva 4 leucæ in longitudine et latitudine. Patura 2 leucæ longæ, et una lueca latæ. Hoc manerium cum appendicibus uis reddit firmam unius noctis cum omnibus conuetudinibus, et valet 100 libræ ad numerum. Hujus manerii eccleiam cum 2 hidis tenet Obernus Epicopus ex T. R. E. Una ex his hidis et Tainlande, altera pertinet eccleiæ. Totum valet 55 olidi. Huic manerio pertinet una terra quam rex Edwardus dederat Vluiet venatori uo, et erat dominio uo. Hæc in firma regis et modo, et pro una hida hahetur. Terra et 2 carucatæ, et ipæ ibi unt, et 3 ervi, et 4 villani, et 4 cozets cum una carucata. Patura 4 quarantenæ longa et una quarantena lata. Valet 2 libræ. In firma hujus Manerii et dimidium virgatæ terra quæ fuit tainlande. Edricus tenuit T. R. E.'' 6 Rex


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36 especially during the night, were exceedingly beautiful.

No untoward event occurred during the night, and we kept advancing, guided by the stars, which did not withdraw their shining until the sun shed his beams on the slumbering sea. The day advanced, the weather continued propitious, and we indulged a hope that fickle fortune was inclined to make some amends for her late conduct towards us.

From the scanty state of our wardrobe, we were unable to make that alteration in dress, usual (especially among well behaved sea-faring men) on Sunday; yet each individual contrived to make some difference in his appearance, from a feeling of respect to the day.

In the forenoon, conformably to usual custom, we joined in the performance of Divine service; but in the present instance we did not adhere to the prescribed forms, having judged it preferable to select such Psalms, and other portions of Scripture, as were more immediately applicable to persons in our situation; and it may readily be believed that our devotion was fervent and sincere. Indeed, our lives depended on so frail a tenure, that there was no difficulty in abstracting our thoughts from all worldly affairs; and the

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Rh contemplation of the sea and sky tended to inspire us with a faint conception of that Almighty Power by whose fiat they sprang into existence!—It was by no means an uninteresting scene, to behold three small boats, in the wide ocean, crowded with human beings, apparently at the dubious mercy of the winds and waves, offering up their prayers and supplications to, "who is the confidence of the ends of all the earth, and of them that are afar off upon the sea."

At noon, the latitude, by observation, was 10° 41' south, and longitude 137° 56' east. We continued our course, still favoured by pleasant weather, and the billow-smoothing breeze. On Monday afternoon we were visited by an immense shoal of dolphins, which accompanied us for some time, whose swift and varied evolutions tended to relieve the dull and dreary scene, although their appearance boded no good to us. The mighty leviathans were also this evening disporting in their boundless domain; and we beheld their unwieldy and terrific gambols with fear and trembling, but fortunately we escaped unscathed.

The weather, which had hitherto been so propitious, now began to assume a threatening aspect; as the night advanced, the wind became baffling, slight showers of rain fell, and the darkness was so intense, that we lost sight of the other boats, although they were at no great distance from us. We hoisted a light, hoping that they might thereby be enabled to keep company, and held on our way.

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38 We passed the night in some anxiety, and when daylight appeared, none of the boats were in sight; our consternation at this accident was extreme, being aware that no person in the absent boats knew the position of Melville Island. At first we proceeded on, thinking, that, as they sailed far better than we, they might be before us; but having soon changed our opinion, we shortened sail, and in about an hour, after many a strained eye had been wistfully scrutinizing every part of the horizon, we had the satisfaction of perceiving both boats bearing E.S.E.

On joining, we learned that they had not seen our light, and that they had also for some time lost sight of each other; we rejoiced at our meeting, and resumed our course, as near as the wind, which had now shifted to the north-west, would permit. At noon our latitude was 11° 2' south, and longitude 134° 12' east; which we communicated to the other boats, and apprized them also of the latitude and longitude of the British settlement at Melville Island, lest accident, or unavoidable occurrence, might again separate us. The wind continued light and variable, chiefly from the north-west;—an uncommon quarter to blow from at this place and season of the year. During the night the boats were in close company; and a sharp look out was kept to prevent our being taken unawares by any sudden change of the weather; as, from appearances, we anticipated that some alteration would soon take place.

On Thursday, at noon, we found ourselves

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Rh to the southward, the latitude being 11° 14'. Not being acquainted with the coast, and having nothing but a general chart to direct us, we intended to pass to the northward of New-Year's Isle. As the afternoon advanced, the weather assumed a more gloomy aspect, and we perceived, with deep anxiety, the indications of an approaching storm.

About seven, P.M., not being able to lie higher than south-west, and to avoid a dense and dark-looking cloud, which was brooding over the deep in that direction, we wore, and stood on the other tack;—hardly was this manoeuvre effected, when the wind, in a sudden squall, shifted, and blew furiously from the southward; the rain poured down in torrents, accompanied with loud and long-continued peals of thunder; and vivid streams of lightning flashed fearfully on our eyes. We were now enabled to shape our course, and, the wind being unaccompanied with a heavy sea, we advanced with much rapidity in the midst of this elemental war.

About midnight we discovered land, concluded to be New Year's Isle. We passed to the northward, and proceeded on in company;—the lightning showing us to each other. In about an hour, we perceived another island, which puzzled us not a little; we kept away, to give it a good berth, and then resumed our course, thinking all safe, when a friendly flash of lightning showed us a rock right a-head, to which we were fast approaching; and on which, in a few

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40 minutes, the boats must inevitably have been dashed to pieces!—we had just time and room to avoid this unexpected and unknown danger. Admonished by this narrow escape, we thought it prudent to stand to the northward, under easy sail, until daylight; when we directed our course for Buckle's Isle, which we expected to reach about noon.

The sea was now becoming formidable, the wind augmenting in strength, and all appearances indicated that our dangers were increasing. We continued advancing together till noon, when we fortunately obtained the sun's meridian altitude, which shewed our latitude to be 10° 59'; but, much to our astonishment and vexation, there was no appearance of land. Just as we finished the observation, the skiff suddenly hove-to, and the chief mate hailed us to do the same: but this was impossible, as we were compelled to run before the wind, even if it had been to certain destruction.

The jolly-boat came on with us, and those on board her expressed an earnest desire to be received into the long boat. We did not at all relish this proposal; and they were rather harshly reproached with having lost courage, and admonished to be of good cheer. We

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Rh shortened sail, and fired several muskets for the skiff to join us; but we had the mortification, in a short time, to lose sight of her, by which circumstance we were greatly depressed.

The wind and sea were gradually acquiring strength; and those in the jolly-boat renewed their pressing solicitations to be taken on board the long-boat. We were greatly annoyed at this, more particularly as they seemed to be "dodging" about us, in order to seize an opportunity of jumping on board, regardless of consequences; but we succeeded in getting to windward of them, when they waved their hands, and bade us farewell!

We then hailed and informed them that, should the weather become worse, we would consider whether we could receive them on board before dark. At this time, the sun broke through the clouds, and we seized the opportunity of ascertaining the apparent time. Some thought they saw land bearing S.S.W., but I believe it was only a heavy low cloud. As the night drew on, the weather grew more tempestuous.

We now deliberated whether we ought, or ought not, under existing circumstances, to take the jolly-boat's crew on board. She was a fine boat, and had behaved, and was behaving, remarkably well; while the long-boat was already too deeply laden, and required the constant labour of two hands to keep her free. However, we unanimously agreed, although with much increased hazard of our own lives, to admit them on

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42 boards as they had evidently yielded to despair, and consequently could not exert their energies in case of emergency.

We made known to them our determination, but previously to receiving them, (trusting to the rain,) we thought it prudent to pump off a cask of fresh water, which, with several other things, we threw overboard, to lighten the boat. They were then cautioned to come on board, carefully, one by one, in case of doing irreparable injury to our frail bulwark: this they agreed to do, but, unmindful of their promise, as soon as it was in their power, they all jumped in together. This imprudent action might have been attended with fatal consequences, if several of us, who had little dependence on their promises, had not taken the precaution to place ourselves on the larboard side, and thereby balanced the boat. Few were the greetings between us and the new-comers, who were placed in different parts of the boat to preserve her trim.

The jolly-boat, thus abandoned, skimmed away, like a sea-fowl, over the waves; while the long boat, over-pressed by her additional burden, could scarcely swim. To add to our uneasiness, night was coming on, the wind increasing to a heavy gale, accompanied by a deluge of rain, and the sea ran mountains high.

It now behoved us to be most attentive to the steerage; as the neglect of a moment might prove our ruin. We kept W. by S. for Melville Island, but our hopes of reaching it were very slender. By great vigilance,

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Rh we managed to elude the encroachments of the waves, till about nine, P. M., when a heavy sea, whose death-denoting sound still lingers in my ears, rolled over the larboard quarter, and filled the boat! For a moment we were paralysed, believing that we were going down, without the most distant hope of any one of us being saved. Finding, however, that the boat still floated, we took heart, baled away, and threw every article of no essential importance overboard.

The sea had upset the compass, extinguished the light, and rendered it impossible for us to obtain another; yet we managed, (although the task was difficult) to keep the boat right before the wind. Just as we had got her baled out, she was again filled by another wave. We now determined to hazard the dangerous experiment of taking in the mainsail; this being effected, and the reefed-jib set, we could do no more than quietly submit to the will of, who "rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm."

It was fortunate that we acted thus, as not even a spray broke over us afterwards. Often did we expect to be overwhelmed by the following sea, whose dismaying roar seemed a summons to eternity; but our gallant boat behaved beyond all expectation well,—bearing us in safety over the curling summits of the highest waves.

The strength of the wind, and the turbulence of the sea, diminished considerably on the approach of morn, which, although ushered in with clouds and rain, was,

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44 to our eyes, exceedingly grateful. Uncertainty of the fate of our companions in the skiff excited feelings of intense and painful anxiety; but knowing the skiff to be a fine boat, not overladen, and well managed, we entertained the hope that she had successfully resisted the united force of winds and waves, and that our fellow-sufferers would, in a very short time, reach Melville Island. Consoled, in some degree, by this idea, we hoisted our reefed-mainsail, and pursued our dreary way.

As daylight became perfect, low land was descried bearing to the southward; and apprehensions were entertained that we should not be able to gain our intended port, as it was more than probable that the boat had been driven to the westward; and at noon, we ascertained that such fears were well grounded;—being three miles to the northward, and several to the westward, of Cape Van Dieman. To think of beating back (although the distance was so short,) would have been absurd: we, therefore, without hesitation, directed our course to Timor.

It required great caution, and unremitted care, to keep our trembling boat right before the wind, which, although its fury was much abated, yet blew with sufficient vehemence, and accompanied with a turbulent swell. The heavy showers of rain that fell at short intervals, and the foamy spray, combined to keep us constantly and thoroughly wet. Next day, at noon, we found that we had advanced upwards of one hundred

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Rh and fifty miles during the last twenty-four hours. The wind still blew in our favour, but stronger than we wished, and in sudden squalls, which, intermingled with thunder, lightning, and rain, kept us constantly on the alert, as we pursued our precarious path across the Timor Sea.

On the first of June, about six, P.M., we discovered land. To say that this event caused universal joy, would convey but a faint idea of the feelings that pervaded every bosom. Next morning, at daylight, we found ourselves within a few miles of the projecting land to the eastward of "the bay of the Pearl bank," when, directing our course to the westward, and keeping within a short distance of the shore, we made all the sail we could, hoping to reach Coupang before dark; but this expectation, notwithstanding the wind blew fresh and fair, was not realized: and, as the day declined, fearing that we might be driven past the Island during the night, we thought it prudent to take shelter, until the morning, in a small bay which appeared suitable to that purpose; and to which we accordingly steered, until the sight and sound of broken water compelled us to alter our course.

We then proceeded towards a sandy beach, where we purposed to run the boat on shore: on approaching it, however, the surf appeared so very heavy, that had we persisted in our intention, the boat would have been probably dashed to pieces; or, had we succeeded in getting her safely on shore, to launch her again

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46 would have been impossible. Influenced by these considerations, we gave up the idea; and being now in two fathoms water, we lowered the sails, and hove out a grappling, which, assisted by the rebounding swells kept the boat from drifting. By this time, the day had closed, and the aspect of the sky led us to expect moderate weather.

This part of the coast, from the numerous fires observed on the hills near us, appeared to be well inhabited; but not knowing how we might have been treated, had we been in the power of the fierce and lawless natives, we were rather pleased than otherwise, that such a powerful barrier intervened.

We now joined cheerfully, and partook of our frugal fare; and then, thanks being offered to our Almighty Preserver, we disposed ourselves in the best way we could to rest, and, undisturbed by fears of foundering, enjoyed a night's refreshing repose.

At daylight, we got under weigh; but we had not proceeded far when the rain fell in torrents, accompanied by a very dense fog, which prevented our seeing to any distance. About nine, P.M., we had approached very near to the land, which was considered the south-west point of Timor; off which we perceived a reef extending about a mile. By hauling up, we were able to clear the breakers; but, being just on the verge of them, we got into a very turbulent and confused sea, which, in a short time, we cleared. As the land now trended to the northward, we altered our course

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Rh ; and the weather having cleared up, we saw Pule Bottee, and the neighbouring islands; by which we felt assured that we were in the straits of Semao.

Strong gusts of wind came occasionally off the Timor shore; one of which, from want of due precaution on our part, carried away the mast. The yard being soon converted into a mast, and an oar into a yard, the sail was fitted thereto, and we resumed our course, which was now, we hoped, drawing near a fortunate termination.

Shortly after this, we perceived a brig, which appeared to be working out of the bay. Various were the conjectures as to what she was, and whither bound; some thinking her an American, some an Arab, and others a Dutchman. After a little discussion, we edged away for her, exhibiting our ensign as conspicuously as we could. Some time elapsed before she took any notice of us, and we began to think that it was not her intention to do so; but, at length, she stood towards us and displayed her colours, which, with much emotion, we discovered to be those of our native land.

As we drew near the vessel, we observed the crew gazing on us with looks of sympathy; and, among the number, to my astonishment, I perceived my friend Mr. Radford, whom I imagined to be at Melville Island. On recognizing me, which he did with difficulty, he evinced the kindly feeling of his heart, by shedding tears, on beholding the change which hardships and misfortunes had made in my appearance. Captain

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48 Young and myself went on board, and were kindly received, while refreshments were liberally distributed among those in the boats. The vessel proved to be the colonial brig Amity, from Coupang, where Mr. Radford had been purchasing provisions for the British settlement at Baffles Bay, whither she was now bound.

We were informed that Melville Island had been abandoned. This intelligence caused us much uneasiness, on account of our fellow-sufferers in the skiff, who, we hoped, had reached that settlement; and although we were relieved, in some degree, by hearing that plenty of vegetables had been left; yet, from the treacherous and hostile character of the natives, we were under great apprehensions as to the safety of our companions. We also learned, that there were several vessels at Coupang (American, Arab, and Dutch), chiefly employed on the coast; and that, ere long, we might have an opportunity of proceeding either to Sourabaya or to Batavia.

I had little inclination, however, to revisit Java, where I had nearly fallen a victim to the fatal disease that occasionally rages there; moreover, I had had an opportunity, subsequent to a former shipwreck, of visiting, not only several interesting islands in the Indian Archipelago, but also the greater part of British India, both within and beyond the Ganges; I therefore determined to embrace the opportunity, now afforded me, of visiting the north coast of New Holland.

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Rh I came the more readily to this determination, from knowing that I should be very comfortably situated with Mr. Radford, who was in charge of the Commissariat at Port Baffles; yet I could not avoid being a good deal affected on parting with my shipwrecked companions,—participation in misfortune tending strongly to cement social union. Several of them, including the carpenter, expressed a wish to accompany me, and the master of the brig consented to take them. Captain Young being anxious to reach England, thought it prudent, on his part, to proceed by way of Batavia.

We thus separated, after an affectionate farewell,—those in the long boat for Coupang, and we in the brig for Raffles' Bay. The master of the brig having previously relieved our anxiety by promising to keep along the south coast of Timor, in search of the skiff; and then, if unsuccessful, to touch at Melville Island, where some information respecting her might be obtained.

It is impossible for any person, not having undergone the same confinement, to imagine the pleasure derived from being able to stretch the limbs, even on a brig's deck;—I had not, however, enjoyed that pleasure long, when my ears were annoyed by the grating, clanking sound of the pumps, and I learned that the vessel made a great deal of water. This news was far from agreeable, and I almost wished myself again in the boat.

We continued working out until the evening, when, not being able to stem the current, and bad weather coming on, the master thought it advisable to bear

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50 up for Coupang, in order to get the vessel repaired;—our carpenter, a man skilful in his business having engaged to put her in a state more fit for sea than she was in at present. I was much pleased by this arrangement, which gave me an opportunity of seeing Coupang, and also of meeting those from whom I was so suddenly separated, I went early to bed, and slept soundly until morning, when, rising renovated, I found the brig at anchor in Coupang Bay.

The return of the vessel excited much surprise, and it was Supposed that some accident must have happened. I think I may say, however, that the event was regarded with satisfaction by my friend Captain Young, who, I learned, had been invited and entertained on board the "Merkus" (a brig, under Dutch colours,) commanded by a countryman of our own. We went together, to pay our respects to the Resident, who received us politely, and assured us of his protection and assistance.

We then went to visit the Secretary to Government, with whom Captain Young entered into satisfactory arrangements for supplying the sailors with lodging and provisions, until they could be forwarded to Batavia or elsewhere. We found a group assembled at the Secretary's office, consisting of the masters of the ships in port, and several of the mercantile inhabitants, who seemed anxious to hear the particulars of our ship-wreck. The master of an American ship, in return, favoured us with a very interesting account of his

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Rh having navigated these seas for many years, without having met with any accident.

In taking a stroll through the streets, we met several of the sailors, quite forgetful of their providential escape, cruizing about, and kicking up a dust with the inhabitants, who had supplied them too liberally with ardent spirits, and who now suffered their aggressions with considerate forbearance.

In the evening, a small sail, apparently a boat, was perceived making her appearance from the Straits. A boat from the "Amity" was immediately manned, and, hoping she might be the skiff, we pulled quickly towards her, but, on drawing near, we were mortified by discovering that it was a small Malay proa.

Early next morning, being on the look-out, we discerned a small sail just emerging from the Straits. A boat from the "Amity," and another from the "Merkus," (emulous of each other,) pulled heartily towards her, and, ere long, we had the heartfelt satisfaction of recognizing our companions in the skiff; and Mr. Underwood, the chief mate, gave us the following account of their proceedings since the time of our separation.

On the day we parted company, about noon, a sea broke into the boat, and the man who was steering, having, on a former occasion, been swamped, became apprehensive of experiencing a similar accident, and immediately, and without orders, put the helm down. When they saw us proceeding on, they bore up and

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 Practical and Uteful Books published by But It is not od tbU ground ttloae that it aspires to palronage. It takes a wider range, and, bj including in its dciigo, the hisloiy, the qualities, and the different breeds of the Doe — -th&t half-reasoning friend and companion of man^it enlarges its claims to geoeral reception. Who is there that has not, at some period of his life, acknowledged the influence of an attachment between himself andhiadog? Who is there that does not recognize in this faithful, vigilanl, Mgacious, humble, and silent friend, the possessor of qualilisB which aie not always to be found in the human and more talkative friend 1 It is only necessarj further to observe (hat the literary eiecotion and graphic embellish ment of this work are not unworthy of the subjects delineated. With respect to the latter, the ProfHietors conQdenllf anticipate that the namea of the Artiats employed are a sufficient guarantee ; while the former i» the pcoduclion of an eiperienced Sportsman. Tlu /oU«tBiiie are the Sulgecti of the Plalet whuh embellith the " Sperttmmt's BtpMUary -■"— HORSES., — GoDOLFHiN Ababiak, the Property of Lord Godolphin. .— Arabiak, the Property of the Sight Hon. Henry Wellesley. . — Eclipse and Shaesfeare, two celebiated Racers. .— KiNo Herod and Flvinb Childerb, the Property of the Duke of Deronsbire. .— Stallion, Jupiter, the Property of Lieutenant-Colonel ThortitOD. , — Charger, the Properly of Major-General Warde. . — HoNTER, Dmuombe, the Property of George Treacher, Esq. .— Hacer, Eleanor, the Property of Sir Charles Bunbary, Bart .— Hacenev, Roan Hiltji. 10. — Coach-Horse, the Property of Henry Villebois, Esq. II. — Cari-Hdrse, Dampiing, the Property of Messrs. Home and Devey. la.— Pomes, Shellani, Fareiter, and WeUh, thePropeny of Jacob Wardell, Eiq. 13. — A Mole, the Property of Lord Holland— and an Ass. . Puga. . Bloodhound's Head. . Portraits of Five Stag Hounds, of the Hatfield Hunt. . Alpine Mastiff. . Shepherd's Dog. 8. Water Spaniel. I 16. Beagles. . Newfonndland 9. Stag Hound. IT. Harriers. Dog. 10. Foe Hounds. 18. Terriers. . Greenland Dog. 11. Greyhound. 19. Lurcher. A. Pointer. 12. Irish Greyhound. 20. Water Dog. . Spanish Pointer. 13. Italian Greyhound. 21. Bull Dog. . Setter. 14. Blood Hound. 29. MastiB'. . Springer. 15. Southern Hound. { 23. Dalmatian. For the accomiuodation of Admirers of the Fine Arts, and Gentlemen forming a Cabinet Collection of Sporting Pictures, a limited number of Impressions are taken off, for the purpose of Framing, or for the Portfolio ; any of which may be hud separately. Price of the Proofs, on India Paper, 4(. and Prints, 2g. each. The Work, complete, compreheuds Ten Parts, price Si, each ; or, with Proof Impressiona of the Plates on India Paper, Tt. 6d. forming a splendid Volume in Quatto— price £2 : 12 : 6, in boards; or with the Plates on India I'aper, price £4, neatly half-bound rusaia — the whole illustrated with Forty Copper- plates, all engraved, in (he Line manner, by Mr. Joi[n Scott and Mr. Thomas Lanosier, from Original Paintings by those eminent Animal Painters, Marshall, Beinagle, Gilpin, Stdbbs, Cooper, and Ebwjw Landbeer. They are executed in the very first itjle of excellence, and may justly be considered as ch^i d'auvrei in the Art. Etery species of the Horse and Dog is comprised in the Collection; and the Proprietors do not hesitate to challenge a similar Exhibition in the whole Sporting World.

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 Skerweod, Oilbert, and Piper. JOHNSON'S SHOOTER'S ANNUAL PRESENT. THE SHOOTER'S COMPANION; or, a DeBcription of all those Animals wbicb constitute the Objects of Purauit; of the Breeding of l>OINTEtlS and SETTERS, the DIseaMs to nhich Ihey are liable, and the Modes of Cure. Traininq Doos for the Gun. Of Scent, and the Reason why one Dog's Sense of Smell i« »operior lo another's. The Fowlino Piece fully considered, particularly as it relates lo the Use of Percussion-Powder, and the best Method of making it Of Gunpowder. Shooting Illnsltated ; and the AsT of Shootcno Flying or Rdnninq, simpliSed and clearly laid down. Of Wild Fowl and Fen Shootiso ; as well aa every Information connected with the Use of the Fowling- Piece. The Oame-Laws familiarly explained and illustrated. By T. B. Johnson. " Tbis is a well-wiitlen and well-arranged production ; containing much interestiDg informa- tion, not only to the professed sportsman bat to those who may occasionally seek this faocinating recreation. It is not the production of any ordinary sportsman, but of one who can enjoy the pleasnres of the library as well as those of the Held."— Liifl-nrj ChrimicU. '* We now lake leave of the work, recommending it, in comparison with most others on the same subject, as luminous to a degree ; and reflecting on the talents, eiperience, and feeling of the aathor, the highest credit."— Sparling- Magazine. BROWN'S ANECDOTES OF HORSES. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES AND AUTHENTIC ANECDOTES OF HORSES, and the Allied Species. By CaplainTHoms BaowN, F.L.S, M.R.P.S. M.K.S.ftc. &c. " We bare now before us the pleasing fruit of Captain Brown's labour and inTestigatloa. Setting out with the early history of the horse, and tracing it to (he present period, the author next goes through the various breeds, and flually enlivens tiie whole with the accounts of feats and other memorabilia, which are well calculated to astonish ami amuse." — XondoH Literary Gazette. " A useful and amusing book, which is ornamented with a number of prints of celebrated horses, drawn in a very spirited manner. The engravings are also very clever works of ait." — Exatmner, '• We have here a very comprehensive and interesting work, comprising a great mass of well- arranged infonaatioQ — the work may be strongly recommended." — Weekly lAipaich, than that of horses we do not know, and richer food for it cannot be found, or in greater abundance, than in this volume." — Spectator, " Those who have any relish for this noble animal — any wish to know its history and habits — will Snd all they want in Captain Brown's book, which, we understand, has already had an excellent ran. There are nine excellent plates, and nearly eoo pages of letter-preas." — Xeui North Britm. " Every gentleman who has a taste for equestrianism should have this very handsome hook in his breakfast-parlour." — Edinbargh Observer, " With Captain Brawn's delightful volume of ' Anecdotes of Horses,' just issued, every one who crosses a saddle ought to be intimate." — Gliagi/v Free Prei*.
 * ' Captain Brown's work is an entertaining and instructive miscellany. Pleasaater gossip

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 Praetieal and Utefitt Bwbt publithed by MOUBRAY ON POULTRY, PIGS, AND COWS. A PRACTICAL TREATISEon BREEDING, REARING, AND FATTENING, ALL KINDS OF DOMESTIC POULTRY, PHEASANTS, PIGEONS, AND RABBITS; iDCladini!, alto, an intereating Account of (he Ei^ptian Method of Hatching E^b bj Artiicial Heat, irith some Modern EipeiimenCt thereon ; also, on Breeding, Feeding, and Maaa^ng Swine, Milch Cows, and Bees. B; Bonington Modbbat, Esq, A new Edition, being the Sixth, enlarged by a TaEtTlsE on Brewikg, making CiuER, Bdttee, and Cheese, adapted to the Use of Prir&te Famitiei. Price Tj. 6d. in boards. poultry and pigs, is uaquestiODabl; the mo^t practical work on the subject in our langnajte. The authors aid seems to have been to atoid scientiGc detail, and to convey his information in plain and intelligible tenn». The conseoieuce of a small poullry -yard— two or three pigs, with a breeding son — and a cow, for cream, milb, butter, and cheese — in an English country-hoDle, appears indispensable j and lo point out Low these may be obtained, at a reasonable expense, seems to have been Mr. Moubray's object By adopting the plan of his work, any ramity may furnish their table with these lumries at one-third of the price they are obliged lo pay at the markets; and the farmer and breeder may render it the source of considerable profit. He ia evidently a good practical Farmer, thoroughly conversant with Itural Economy in all its branches ; his book is written in a light, lively. Kitchener style, and, like the works of that celebrated ga»tronome, conveys, at least, a^ much amusement as information. Were any testimony wanted, as to its practical utility, it would be found in the declaiatioa of an eminent rural economist, Sir John Sinclair, who pronounces it ' the best Work hitherto priated' on the subject of which it treats."— Farmen' Jaicrnal. GIRARD ON THE AGE OF THE HORSE. A TREATISE ON THE TEETH OF THE HORSE; ahowing its Ag% by th« Changes the Teeth undergo from a Foal up to Twenty-Three Years old, eipecially after the Eighth Year. Tianilaled from the French of M. GlRAftn, Director of the Royal Veterinary School at Aiford, by T. J. Gaslv, V.3. lllh Light Dragoons. Price S». Bd, j or, with the Plates coloured, Gi. boards. •,• This Worit is strongly recommended by Professor Coleman, In his Lectures of the present season, to the attention of persons studying the Veterinary Profession ; and nho may b1m> wish to be well Bcqnainied with the Horse's Age. " The above nsefal and neat little Treatise," says the Editor of the lAncet, '• Is calcniated lo beof considerable service, in the present state of our knowledge. We recommend the work lo the Amateur, the Practitioner, and the Veterinary Student." THOMPSON ON RIDING. RULES FOR. BAD HORSEMEN ; Hints to Inexpert Travellers ; and Maxim* worth Remembermg by the most experienced Equestrians. By Charles Thomfbon, Esq. A aew Edition, with modeni Additions, by John Hinds, V. S. Editor of Osmer's Treatise on lbs Horse j Author of the Groom's Oracle, &c. Price Ss. M. DEWHERST ON THE HORSE'S FOOT. AN ESSAY ON THE ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, AND PATHOLOGY trf the HORSE'S FOOT, and on SHOEING, intended as a Gi;tde to the SiroENTs of the BovAi Vetebinarv College, and a Work of Reference to Veterinaj? Piactitionera. Dedicated (« Edward Coleman, Esq. Veterinary Surge on -General to His Alajesty, and the Army. Illiistraled with numerous Cuts and Coloured Plates. In one Volume, 12mo. By H. W. DEWHERST, Sui^on, Professor of Human, Veterinai-j, and Ctnnparative Anatomy.
 * .* '' Mr. Moubraj's little book on tbe breeding, rearing, and fatten ing all kiada of domeitiG

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THE HUNTING DIRECTORY ; containing a compendious View of the Ancient and Modern Systems of the Chase ; the Method of Breeding and Managing the varions Kiods of Hounds, particularly Fox-Hounds ; their Diseases, with a certain Care for the Distemper. The pursuit of the Fox, the Hare, the Stag, &c. The Nature of Scent considered and elucidated. Also, Notices of the Wolf and Boar Hunting in France ; with a Variety of illustrative Obser- vations. By T. B. Johnson, Author of the Shooter^s Companion. Handsomely printed in 8yo. Price 98. boards.

THE TURF EXPOSITOR ; containing the Origin of Horse-Racing, Breeding for the Turf, Training, Trainers, Jockeys, Cocktails, and the System of Cocktail-Racing illustrated ; the Turf and its Abuses ; the Science, of betting Money, so as always to come off a Winner, elucidated by a variety of Examples ; the Rules and Laws of Horse-Racing ; and every other Information connected with the Operations of the Turf. By C. F. Brown. Price 68,

THE GROOM'S ORACLE, AND POCKET STABLE-DIRECTORY; in which the Management of Horses generally, as to Health, Dieting, and Exercise are considered^ in a Series of Familiar Dialogues between Two Grooms engaged in Training Horses to their Work, as well for the Road as the Chase and Turf. With an Appendix, including the Receipt- Book of John Hinds, V. S. Second Edition, considerably improved; embellished with an elegant Frontispiece, painted by S. Aiken. Price 7s. cloth. connected with training prime horses ; and the owners of working-cattle, also, will find their profit in consulting the practical remarks that are applicable to their teams ; on the principle that health preserved is better than disease removed.
 * This enlarged edition of the "Groom's Oracle" contains a good number of new points

A TREATISE ON THE DISEASES AND LAMENESS OF HORSES ; in which is laid down the proper Method of Shoeing the different Kinds of Feet: whereupon are added, some New Observations on tbe Art of Farriery, chiefly as relate to Wounds, to Epidemic Distemper, to Surgical Operations, to Debility, Tumours, &c. Also, on the Nature and Difference in the Breeds of Horses. By William Osmer, Veterinary Surgeon and Shoeing Smith. Fifth Edition, newly re-written, with considerable Additions, and a Treatise on Debility, &c. &c. By John Hinds, V. S. Anther of the Groom's Oracle, Veterinary Surgery, and Practice of Medicine. publications. This and Mr. Hinds' ^ Groom's Oracle' ought to be in the possession of every Gentleman, who either has in possession, or has a chance of possessing, the noble animal to whose proper treatment the Author has directed his enlightened researches." — Taunton Courier, March 3, 1830.
 * «* 08mer*8 Treatise on the Hor$e, by J. Hinds^ is among the most valuable of our recent

BRITISH FIELD SPORTS; embracing Practical Instructions in Shooting, Hunting, Coursing, Racing, Fishing, &c. ; with Observations on the Breaking and Training of Dogs and Horses; also, the Management of Fowling-pieces, and all other Sporting Implements. By highly-Jiniahed Engravings, Thirty-four on Copper, executed in the most characteristic style of excellence, by those Eminent Artists, Scott, Warren, Greig, Tookey, Davenport, Ranson, and Webb, from Paintings by Reinagle, Clennell, Klmbr, and Barrenger; the remainder cut on Wood, by Clennell, Thompson, Austin, and Bewick. The author's object has been, to present* in as compressed a form as real utility would admit. Instructions in all the various Field Sports in Modern Practice ; thereby forming a Book of General Reference on the subject, and including, in one volume, what could not otherwise be obtained vnthout purchasing manj and expensive ones. — In demy 8vo. Price 11, 18s. ; or» in royal Svo. 32. 3is. boards.
 * «* This Work is beautifully printed, on fine paper, and illustrated with upwards of Fflp

"It gives us pleasure to observe the respectability of the Work entitled ' British Field Sports.' In this kingdom, the Sports of the Field are highly characteristic and interesting : as gentle- manly diversioBS they have been pursued with an avidity as keen, and a taste as universal, as the relish of Nature's beauties : a corresponding value is set on them, and an appropriate polish is added by time and practice : the various minutiae in the knowledge of which and the technical distribution of this knowledge, together with Fapts, Instructions, and Anecdotes, form the basis ef this valuable publication.— Farmers' Journal.

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 Practical and Useful Bookt. THACKER'S COURSER'S COMPANION. THE COURSER'S COMPANION ; or, a Practical Treatise on the Laws of the Leash, with the Defects of the old Laws considered ; and a New Code proposed^ wiHi Expla- natory Notes. By an Experienced Courser. Price 55. boards. of Derby, who is an old Courser, and which is a passport to it, ii too modestly kept back. To real sportsmen, who read for solid information, the .volume will exhibit unquestionable proofs of being thoroughly practical on the subject of Coursing/'— >iS[porHfif Magazine* SKELLETT'S COMPLETE COW DOCTOR. A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON THE BREEDING COW, AND EXTRAC- TION OF THE CALF, BEFORE AND AT THE TIME OF CALVING; in which the question of difficult Parturition is considered in all its bearings, with reference to facts and experience ; including Observations on the Disease of Neat Cattle generally. Containing pro- fitable Instructions to the Breeding Farmer, Cowkeeper, and Grazier, for attending to their own Cattle during Illness, according to the most approved modern Methods of Treatment, and the Application of long-known and skilful Prescriptions and Remedies for every Disorder incident to Horned Cattle. The whole adapted to the present improved state of Veterinary Practice. Illustrated with Thirteen highly-finished Engravings. By Edward Skellett, Professor of that part of the Veterinary Art. Price 18«. plain, or 1/. 75. coloured. << We have now before us a work which will be found a very useful addition to the farmers' library. It is communicated in a plain, and familiar style, and is evidently the result of long* experience and observation, made by a practical man ; every person connected with Live Stock should be acquainted with its contents, but to the Veterinary Practitioner it is invaluable.''^ — Farmers* Journal, STEVENSON'S CATTLE DOCTOR. THE SPORTSMAN'S, FARMER'S, AND CATTLE- DOCTOR'S VADE MECUM, containing Practical Hints and Receipts for preventing and curing the most prevalent Diseases of BLACK OR NEAT CATTLE, SHEEP, DOGS, HORSES, PIGS, &c. with a very copious List of the most valuable Veterinary Medicines and the Manner of preparing tbem for Animals of every Description. By John Stevenson, Esq. Price 5«. LAWRENCE ON LIVE STOCK. A GENERAL TREATISE ON CATTLE— THE OX, SHEEP, AND SWINE; comprehending their Breeding, Management, Improvement, and Diseases ; with Remedies for Cure. By John Lawrence, Author of the " New Farmer's Calendar." Second Edition. In one large vol. 8vo. price 12«. boards. " Mr. James White, in his work on Veterinary Medicine, says, * Mr. Lawrence's General Treatise on Cattle y the Ox, the Sheep, and the Swine" ought to be in every one's hands who is interested in the subject." LAWRENCE'S PHILOSOPHICAL AND PRACTICAL TREATISE ON HORSES; comprehending the Choice, Management, Purchase, and Sale of every Description of the Horse, the Improved Method of Shoeing, Medical Prescriptions, and Surgical Treatment in all known Diseases. Third Edition ; with large Additions on the Breeding and Improvement of the Horse, the Dangers of our present Travelling System, &c. In 2 vol. price 1/. 1«. boards. By the same Author, . THE NEW FARMER'S CALENDAR; or, MONTHLY REMEM- BRANCER OF ALL KINDS OF COUNTRY BUSINESS. Fifth Edition, with Additions. In 1 vol. large 8vo. price 12«. boards. . THE MODERN LAND STEWARD ; in which the Duties and Functions of Stewardship are considered and explained, with its several RelationI to the Interest of the Landlord, Tenant, and the Public. In 1 vol. price 10«. 6d. boards. THE GRAZIER'S READY RECKONER; or, A USEFUL GUIDE FOR BUYING AND SELLING CATTLE; being a complete Set of Tables, distmctly pointing out the Weight of Black Cattle, Sheep, and Swine, from Three to One Hundred and Thirty Stones, by Measurement ; with Directions showing the particular Parts where the CattTe are to be mea- sured. By George Renton, Farmer. Eighth Edition, corrected. Price 28.6{f, MARCHANT, PRINTER, IN6RAM>C017RT. ' ^
 * ' Though small in size, this book is great in value ; the author's name, Mr. Thomas Thacker,

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, October 27, 189— Dear Pierrepont: Yours of the twenty-first inst. to hand and I note the inclosed clippings. You needn't pay any special attention to this newspaper talk about the Comstock crowd having caught me short a big line of November lard. I never sell goods without knowing where I can find them when I want them, and if these fellows try to put their forefeet in the trough, or start any shoving and crowding, they're going to find me forgetting my table manners, too. For when it comes to funny business I'm something of a humorist myself. And while I'm too old to run, I'm young enough to stand and fight.

First and last, a good many men have gone gunning for me, but they've always planned the obsequies before they caught the deceased. I reckon there hasn't been a time in twenty years when there wasn't a


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Rh nice "Gates Ajar" piece all made up and ready for me in some office near the Board of Trade. But the first essential of a quiet funeral is a willing corpse. And I'm still sitting up and taking nourishment.

There are two things you never want to pay any attention—to abuse and flattery. The first can't harm you and the second can't help you. Some men are like yellow dogs—when you're coming toward them they'll jump up and try to lick your hands; and when you're walking away from them they'll sneak up behind and snap at your heels. Last year, when I was bulling the market, the longs all said that I was a kind-hearted old philanthropist, who was laying awake nights scheming to get the farmers a top price for their hogs; and the shorts allowed that I was an infamous old robber, who was stealing the pork out of the workingman's pot. As long as you can't please both sides in


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Rh this world, there's, nothing like pleasing your own side.

There are mighty few people who can see any side to a thing except their own side. I remember once I had a vacant lot out on the Avenue, and a lady came in to my office and in a soothing-sirupy way asked if I would lend it to her, as she wanted to build a crèche on it. I hesitated a little, because I had never heard of a crèche before, and someways it sounded sort of foreign and frisky, though the woman looked like a good, safe, reliable old heifer. But she explained that a crèche was a baby farm, where old maids went to wash and feed and stick pins in other people's children while their mothers were off at work. Of course, there was nothing in that to get our pastor or the police after me, so I told her to go ahead.

She went off happy, but about a week later she dropped in again, looking sort of dissatisfied, to find out if I wouldn't build the


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Rh crèche itself. It seemed like a worthy object, so I sent some carpenters over to knock together a long frame pavilion. She was mighty grateful, you bet, and I didn't see her again for a fortnight. Then she called by to say that so long as I was in the business and they didn't cost me anything special, would I mind giving her a few cows. She had a surprised and grieved expression on her face as she talked, and the way she put it made me feel that I ought to be ashamed of myself for not having thought of the live stock myself. So I threw in half a dozen cows to provide the refreshments.

I thought that was pretty good measure, but the carpenters hadn't more than finished with the pavilion before the woman telephoned a sharp message to ask why I hadn't had it painted.

I was too busy that morning to quarrel, so I sent word that I would fix it up; and when I was driving by there next day the


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Rh painters were hard at work on it. There was a sixty-foot frontage of that shed on the Avenue, and I saw right off that it was just a natural signboard. So I called over the boss painter and between us we cooked up a nice little ad that ran something like this:

Well, sir, when she saw the ad next morning that old hen just scratched gravel. Went all around town saying that I had given a five-hundred-dollar shed to charity and painted a thousand-dollar ad on it. Allowed I ought to send my check for that amount to the crèche fund. Kept at it till I began to think there might be something in it, after all, and sent her the money. Then I found a fellow who wanted to build in that neighborhood, sold him the lot cheap, and got out of the crèche industry.

I've put a good deal more than work into my business, and I've drawn a good deal


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Rh more than money out of it; but the only thing I've ever put into it which didn't draw dividends in fun or dollars was worry. That is a branch of the trade which you want to leave to our competitors.

I've always found worrying a blamed sight more uncertain than horse-racing—it's harder to pick a winner at it. You go home worrying because you're afraid that your fool new clerk forgot to lock the safe after you, and during the night the lard refinery burns down; you spend a year fretting because you think Bill Jones is going to cut you out with your best girl, and then you spend ten worrying because he didn't; you worry over Charlie at college because he's a little wild, and he writes you that he's been elected president of the Y. M. C. A.; and you worry over William because he's so pious that you're afraid he's going to throw up everything and go to China as a missionary, and he draws on you for a hundred; you worry because you're


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Rh afraid your business is going to smash, and your health busts up instead. Worrying is the one game in which, if you guess right, you don't get any satisfaction out of your smartness. A busy man has no time to bother with it, He can always find plenty of old women in skirts or trousers to spend their days worrying over their own troubles and to sit up nights waking his.

Speaking of handing over your worries to others naturally calls to mind the Widow Williams and her son Bud, who was a playmate of mine when I was a boy. Bud was the youngest of the Widow's troubles, and she was a woman whose troubles seldom came singly. Had fourteen altogether, and four pair of 'em were twins. Used to turn 'em loose in the morning, when she let out her cows and pigs to browse along the street, and then she'd shed all worry over them for the rest of the day. Allowed that if they got hurt the neighbors would bring them home; and that if they got hungry


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Rh they'd come home. And someways, the whole drove always showed up safe and dirty about meal time.

I've no doubt she thought a lot of Bud, but when a woman has fourteen it sort of unsettles her mind so that she can't focus her affections or play any favorites. And so when Bud's clothes were found at the swimming hole one day, and no Bud inside them, she didn't take on up to the expectations of the neighbors who had brought the news, and who were standing around waiting for her to go off into something special in the way of high-strikes.

She allowed that they were Bud's clothes, all right, but she wanted to know where the remains were. Hinted that there'd be no funeral, or such like expensive goings-on, until some one produced the deceased. Take her by and large, she was a pretty cool, calm cucumber.

But if she showed a little too much Christian resignation, the rest of the town was


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Rh mightily stirred up over Bud's death, and every one just quit work to tell each other what a noble little fellow he was; and how his mother hadn't deserved to have such a bright little sunbeam in her home; and to drag the river between talks. But they couldn't get a rise.

Through all the worry and excitement the Widow was the only one who didn't show any special interest, except to ask for results. But finally, at the end of a week, when they'd strained the whole river through their drags and hadn't anything to show for it but a collection of tin cans and dead catfish, she threw a shawl over her head and went down the street to the cabin of Louisiana Clytemnestra, an old yellow woman, who would go into a trance for four bits and find a fortune for you for a dollar. I reckon she'd have called herself a clairvoyant nowadays, but then she was just a voodoo woman.

Well, the Widow said she reckoned that


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Rh boys ought to be let out as well as in for half price, and so she laid down two bits, allowing that she wanted a few minutes' private conversation with her Bud. Clytie said she'd do her best, but that spirits were mighty snifty and high-toned, even when they'd only been poor white trash on earth, and it might make them mad to be called away from their high jinks if they were taking a little recreation, or from their high-priced New York customers if they were working, to tend to cut-rate business. Still, she'd have a try, and she did. But after having convulsions for half an hour, she gave it up. Reckoned that Bud was up to some cussedness off somewhere, and that he wouldn't answer for any two-bits.

The Widow was badly disappointed, but she allowed that that was just like Bud. He'd always been a boy that never could be found when any one wanted him. So she went off, saying that she'd had her money's worth in seeing Clytie throw those fancy


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Rh fits. But next day she came again and paid down four bits, and Clytie reckoned that that ought to fetch Bud sure. Someways though, she didn't have any luck, and finally the Widow suggested that she call up Bud's father—Buck Williams had been dead a matter of ten years—and the old man responded promptly.

"Where's Bud?" asked the Widow.

Hadn't laid eyes on him. Didn't know he'd come across. Had he joined the church before he started?

"No."

Then he'd have to look downstairs for him.

Clytie told the Widow to call again and they'd get him sure. So she came back next day and laid down a dollar. That fetched old Buck Williams' ghost on the jump, you bet, but he said he hadn't laid eyes on Bud yet. They hauled the Sweet By and By with a drag net, but they couldn't get a rap from him. Clytie trotted out George