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 man suffer, methods which we would not hesitate to employ upon you."

For an instant the pupils of Dmitri's eyes dilated. Then, his voice blandly impassive, he said, "You forget that, even if I would, I could not, in her absence, release Mary Roberts' subconscious. I am not a story-book magician, and I cannot command her conscious to come here. She will not come here again, except of her own free will, unless she brings—another with her. And that will be only on a Thursday. She did not come tonight; would you wait here seven days for her to present herself?"

Slowly Peters smiled. "Mary Roberts, at Commissioner Ethredge's request, is waiting in a small restaurant not far from here. I will telephone her." He rose, took a step toward the table.

The colossus seemed to swell in his chair like an infuriated toad. "Stop!" His chest heaved, and from his cavernous interior there issued a half-shriek, half-bellow that beat in that small room like the scream of an ape. "Stepan! Stepan!"

Peters' hand flicked to his hip. But Dmitri only smiled, smiled and shook his monstrous head.

"Your weapon will be of no avail against my Stepan."

the door opened, and the small, wholly self-effacing Stepan entered, glanced imperturbably about. He carried Dmitri's small automatic pistol in his right hand, and instinctively Peters' fingers moved, again, toward his hip, then paused helplessly as his mind recalled with sudden sharp vividness the incredible demonstration he had witnessed only a brief hour before. Too well he knew that his gun was, indeed, powerless to harm Stepan

Dmitri was grinning broadly.

"Watch these men closely, Stepan, and usher them from my house. Should they attempt any tricks do not hesitate to shoot. After all, they are here against my will, and they have threatened me."

The servant Stepan, only a slight tinge of color in his cheeks revealing that he felt any interest whatever in the proceedings, gestured with the small automatic. And in that instant Peters whipped to the floor, his hands grasped the end of the strip of carpet on which Stepan stood, his body jerked backward.

His arms wildly flailing, Stepan plunged to his hands and knees; the automatic skittered across the floor. And suddenly Dmitri, half lifting himself from his chair, was babbling unintelligible, fear-ridden words. Ethredge, as Peters rose to his feet, had pounced upon the outsplayed servant, pinioning him to the floor; Peters, his right hand at his hip, swung alertly toward Dmitri.

"I've—got him, Peters," Ethredge gasped, the little man beneath him no match for the Commissioner's sinewy strength. And chill, shuddery horror abruptly swept him as he realized that this man he touched, this squirming, writhing thing beneath his hands, was invulnerable to lead or to flame, a being that could be overpowered, but that could not be destroyed! "What'll I do with him?"

Grimly Peters snarled, "Hold on to him. I'll handle this death-ridden diabetic!"

His service automatic a blue-steel menace in his right hand, Peters walked to the table. With his left hand he lifted the receiver from the telephone and dialed a number. Warily he stooped over the table as he spoke, presently, with Mary Roberts. Then he cradled the receiver and sat down, facing the colossus.

"She will come here, at once."

Seemingly, Dmitri had collapsed. His shapeless hands lay limply on the chair


text:
Page:Our Sister Republic - Mexico.djvu/390

376 shown her, to send a set of her own jewelry to the house, as a present to one of the daughters of the family. Of course her offer was declined, with many thanks, and renewed offers of service from the other side. Good common sense in this case, made up for the lack of familiarity with the social customs of the country, but I have known some of my own countrymen and countrywomen who were less fortunate.

For years, the residents of San Francisco were familiar with the face and form of an eccentric, and probably mildly insane old individual, who delighted in the sobriquet of Uncle Freddy, alias Washington the Second. What his real name was I never knew, but he was an Englishman by birth, I believe, and while he imagined, or affected to imagine himself the very counterpart of Washington, he really did resemble the portraits of Benjamin Franklin, in a remarkable degree.

Uncle Freddy could be seen parading Montgomery street any fine day, dressed in a full buckskin suit and cocked hat, regular "old Continental" style, or black velvet, similarly cut, and with knee-breeches, white stockings, and silver buckled shoes. Sometimes he carried a gorgeous banner, the legends on which commemorated his deeds of valor and humanity, and his claims upon the public crib as a benefactor of our country and race. Any contribution in acknowledgment of his eminent services was welcome, and the larger the donation the more profuse were his apologies and protestations of gratitude.

The sun of fortune seemed to shine lovingly upon Uncle Freddy, but he had a weakness like all other great men, and in an evil moment it proved his ruin. He imagined himself a woman-killer, and would indulge

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


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Pflugk-Harttung, Julius von

PFLUGK-HARTTUNG, pflōōG' här'tụ ng, (1848—). A German historian, best known as an authority on Papal and mediæval history. He was born at Warnikow, studied at Bonn, Berlin, and Göttingen, and in 1886 became professor of history at Basel. Thence he went to Berlin, where in 1893 he became head of the Secret State Archives. He wrote Studien zur Geschichte Konrads II. (1876-77); Norwegen und die deutschen Seestädte (1887); Acta Pontificorum Romanorum Inedita, 748-1198 (1879-88); Iter Italicum (1883); in Grote's Allgemeine Weltgeschichte the part on the early Middle Ages (1889); Krieg und Sieg, 1870-71, the first of his studies of modern history (1895); Napoleon I., Republik und Kaisertum (1900); and Die Bullen ''der Päpste bis zum Ende des 12. Jahrhunderts'' (1901).


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Page:Weird Tales volume 31 number 03.djvu/37

 arms, his great chest heaved gulpingly; only the snaky brightness in his darting ebon eyes warned Peters that his tremendous brain was thinking, planning, calculating with chain-lightning rapidity. The servant Stepan was only spasmodically struggling.

Peters spoke abruptly to Ethredge.

"When Mary comes someone will have to admit her. Can you keep this devil covered while I go to the door?"

Ethredge, crouching across the servant's chest, his knees crushing the man's shoulders against the floor, nodded

Silence, rolling on with interminable slowness, gripped the room. Gradually the rattle of Dmitri's breathing was growing quiet; he sat now in his chair like some obscene, waiting idol, his face an undecipherable mask.

From beyond the tight-closed door a bell faintly tinkled. Peters edged toward Ethredge, slipped his automatic into the Commissioner's outstretched hand. Then he was gone....

Dmitri did not move. A minute passed; to Ethredge it seemed as though all the suspense of myriad ages was bound up in that brief span. Then the door re-opened and Peters, followed by Mary Roberts, re-entered the room. Mary's fair, oval face was a composite of bewilderment and apprehension; in the instant that she glimpsed the tableau within the room her slender body trembled violently and the color drained from her face, leaving it white as new paper. But then her straight, strong young spine stiffened and her firm little jaw set hard. Pale though she was, she glanced inquiringly at Ethredge.

"Charles" she whispered.

Shakily, Ethredge smiled. He nodded toward Dmitri, bloated, swollen, huddled inscrutably in his chair.

"I'll have to tell you—now, Mary," he said slowly. "Try to understand. On the night that you came here with Helen Stacey-Forbes, Dmitri ensnared you. He cast a—spell over you. We have come here, we have asked you to come here—we are going to force him to release you."

Mary, staring at her sweetheart, was frowning. Almost musingly she spoke.

"I have had—terrible dreams," she said, her voice low, "dreams in which he told me to do—strange things; dreams in which I—obeyed him. But I believed that they were only nightmares. And yet, though I loathed him, I know that I have surrendered to the strangest impulse to ask others to come here with me—Mrs. Arthur Leeds——"

Ethredge's eyes, as he glanced at Dmitri, were suddenly cruel. Then, gently, he spoke again to Mary.

"We must free you now, free you from Dmitri—for ever. But Peters believes that you will have to go, once more, beneath his spell."

For a long moment Mary stood there quiet. Then, the words barely audible, she breathed, "Very well, Charles. I am ready."

Peters, who until this moment had been standing, hands in his jacket pockets, with his back against the door, advanced into the room, stooped for the automatic in Ethredge's outstretched hand, and dropped into one of the row of chairs that faced Dmitri's huge table.

"Very well, Dmitri," he said, gesturing significantly with the automatic, "let us waste no more time. Proceed, and understand clearly, that if you attempt to trick me I will certainly kill you."

Briefly the men's eyes met and clashed. Then, with surprizing suddenness, Dmitri rolled his flaccid shoulders in an expressive, acquiescent shrug; his loose lips split in a good-humored leer.

"Shall I confess that I am beaten, then?" he asked affably. "Yes, let it be so; I begin to believe that I have, in any


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 case, overestimated Mary Roberts' value to me. If you will sit across from me, Miss Roberts, and look fixedly at the lamp"

Warningly Peters exclaimed, "Don't look directly at that thing, Commissioner!"

Did a flicker of disappointment cross Dmitri's face? Peters, as he moved from his chair to stand directly behind Dmitri, the muzzle of the automatic inches from Dmitri's silk-swathed shoulders, never knew

fat fingers touched a small button set beneath the edge of the table. And instantly, though Peters forced himself not to look up, he felt, beating against his lowered eyelids, the incredibly soothing, incredibly beautiful monotony of whirling color produced by the fantastic lamp, Abruptly, then, the ceiling light went out. Except for the diabolically cadenced, leaping reiteration of pinwheel color dancing in the center of the table like some chromatic dervish, the room was dark. Grimly Peters kept his eyes averted, kept his gaze boring into Dmitri's black, pillar-like silhouette.

Slow seconds passed. Then Dmitri spoke, spoke in that vibrant, beautiful voice of his that was like the chanting of a cathedral organ.

"You are asleep, Mary Roberts?"

There was a moment's pause. Warningly the police automatic in Peters' hand touched the sodden flesh at the base of Dmitri's neck.

Through the stillness came Mary's reply: "Master, I am asleep."

By not so much as a single, involuntary shudder had Dmitri betrayed even the slightest awareness of the cold gun-muzzle. Yet Peters knew that even now the man was planning, calculating chance against chance

"Who am I?" The words boomed like great mellow bass notes.

Mary's answer came unhesitatingly: "You are the Voice that Speaks from Beyond the Darkness. You are the Infallible One."

Peculiarly, Peters sensed that in that instant Dmitri had reached a decision....

The strong, resonant phrases rolled on, "You will forget the assignment that I have given you." There was a pause, and Peters realized with a curious, crawling anticipation that Dmitri was gathering himself together, concentrating himself upon himself, ominously.

Then the black words boomed, "Let your nerves go mad and your muscles tense and writhe until death releases you!"

"Damn you!" Peters snarled the curse; his gun-muzzle sloughed savagely into Dmitri's obese flesh. Yet the gun did not speak, and Dmitri, wincing beneath the torturing steel, chuckled

"I gambled that you would not fire," he gasped, his voice suddenly gloating. "And now we are no longer stalemated; before I will consent to release Mary Roberts from the agony she endures you will promise me immunity, and more than immunity—you will promise me protection, henceforth. Take that cannon from my neck"

The ceiling light flashed up, the whirling of the multicolored vanes slowed and died. And, as the eyes of Ethredge and Peters grew accustomed to the increased illumination within the room, the two men felt their bloodflow pause, then run like ice-water in their veins.

For Mary Roberts had toppled from her chair, and now lay weirdly, unnaturally sprawled on the naked floor beside Dmitri's table, her spine bent backward like a tight-drawn bow, the slender heels


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 of her tiny shoes nearly touching her chestnut hair beneath her chic little hat, her throat and jaw muscles stretched like oversharp violin strings, her teeth and pink gums bared in a ghastly grin. Her breasts were rising and falling spasmodically; she breathed in dioking, rattling gasps. The fair, pale flesh of her oval face was purpling.

"God!" Ethredge stumbled to his feet, stood swaying drunkenly, his hands outstretched; he had utterly forgotten the servant Stepan. For an instant the little man struggled to rise, then sank back weakly.

The obscene colossus grinned. "Do not fear; she will live a long time. Her nerves will tire; then she will relax for a moment. She will breathe more easily, then."

And, as though the prophecy were a command, Mary's body went suddenly, horribly limp, melted against the barren floor as though death had abruptly collapsed every straining muscle. Only her gulping, hurried breathing and the gradual fading of the terrible purple congestion from her face told that she was still alive. Mucus was beginning to run from her loosely open mouth.

Ethredge took a slow, uncertain step forward. "God!" he mumbled, again. Then he found words, babbling, pleading words. "You—devil! Free her, only free her, and"

"Commissioner!" It was Peters' voice, harsh, rasping. "Commissioner" With a sudden, gasping sob he paused, for, with the sharply reiterated exclamation Mary's body had once more tensed, knotted into a backward-bent bow more terrible to look upon than had she twisted and writhed.

"Dear God!" Ethredge moaned. He took a second, wavering step forward. And then Peters found speech.

"Commissioner!" His voice was implacable, steely. "Stop! Do you know what you are doing, in surrendering to this—beast of hell? You are dishonoring yourself for ever, you are promising him immunity to torture, and murder, and debase—yes, for he has done all of these things"

Ethredge's lips were a twisted snarl, "Peters, I would promise him my soul—to free Mary!" Dmitri was grinning, grinning....

Peters' words were like the flicking of a rapier, "Mary would loathe you—if she knew. Mary would never permit this—sacrifice of honor."

Ethredge took another step forward. He seemed not to have heard.

sudden, grim determination Peters plunged his left hand deep in his breast pocket. His right hand dropped the gun to the floor, his right arm constricted about Dmitri's throat There was a small white pellet in the fingers of his left hand.

"Dmitri!" he snarled, "this tablet; can you guess what it is?—it smells of almonds!"

The powerful biceps of his right arm tightened. Caught in that strangling embrace, Dmitri writhed weakly, horribly, his pig-like eyes wildly staring.

Peters' face was inches above Dmitri's fear-maddened eyes. The pellet moved closer to Dmitri's slavering, gasping jaws.

"Just a touch against the tip of the tongue! You attempted trickery, Dmitri; had you not done that we might have drawn your fangs and let you live. But now"

Swiftly, then, he forced the bitter-smelling pellet into Dmitri's wide-distended mouth, crushed the man's jaws violently together.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Pforzheim

PFORZHEIM, pfṓrts'hīm. A town of Baden, Germany, on the northern border of the Black Forest, 16 miles southeast of Karlsruhe (Map: Germany, C 4). It has the remains of an ancient castle, formerly the residence of the margraves of Baden-Durlach, several churches, a convent, and industrial and other schools. The Schlosskirche is a notable old structure in the Gothic and Renaissance styles. Pforzheim is one of the largest manufacturing centres of cheap jewelry in the world, over 10,000 workmen being employed. There are also chemical and iron works, machine shops, tanneries, and paper, electrical apparatus, and other factories. Population, in 1895, 33,331; in 1900, 43,097.


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 The taste of almond was strong on Dmitri's tongue.

For a split second his eyes seemed bursting from their sockets. A horrible, retching moan welled from his saliva-drenched mouth; blue veins leaped on his hairless temples. Then, like a pinpricked balloon, he collapsed; his massive head rolled forward upon his flaccid chest; he huddled there, stilly, in his chair....

"The end of you, Dmitri," Peters was whispering. "The end of you!"

And then he heard Ethredge's voice, dazed with the horror he had undergone, yet implacable, now, with heartbroken resolve.

"We must kill him, Peters! You are right; Mary would not have us sell honor. even to save her!"

Ethredge, his eyes unseeing, his mind Dear-crazed by suffering, did not know that Dmitri was already dead. And yet——

"Dmitri is dead," Peters said softly. His whole attention was focussed upon Mary, upon the small huddled figure that, in the instant of Dmitri's passing, had suddenly relaxed, lay now in semi-conscious exhaustion. And in Peters' heart there leaped exultation; for in his mind had been, all along, the strange, weird conviction that the end of Dmitri would bring release to those he had enslaved. For Peters knew that Dmitri had instilled into the subconscious of his victims the belief that he was infallible, the belief that he was a kind of god, protecting them, shielding them, curing them of their ills. But now the man-god was dead, and, of necessity, in each of his dupes the blind, limitless sea of the subconscious was rejecting the theories he had taught, spewing out his broken image, obliterating him, in disillusionment. from the chasms of memory. Before Peters' eyes the unnatural tendency to convulsion that Dmitri had instilled in Mary Roberts' subconscious, the cruel weapon he had implanted within the core of her being and goaded, in terror-ridden desperation, into life, had died in the instant her subconscious became aware of Dmitri's passing, had ceased as abruptly as though a circuit had been broken, as completely as though an evil light had been extinguished....

Peters, stooping over Mary, now limply, weakly relaxed, slipped his strong right arm beneath her shoulders, murmured swift, soothing words. Sanity, he saw, was flooding back into her eyes. And then she looked toward and beyond Ethredge, and she screamed—and screamed again.

Peters' eyes followed her rigid gaze, and as he looked at the servant Stepan his nerves crawled and the short hairs at the base of his neck bristled in an ecstasy of horror.

"Dear—God!"

In that second of unsurpassable horror there blazed across Peters' mind a strange kaleidoscope of tableaux, tableaux that were all the same, tableaux of the obese Dmitri and the small, self-effacing Stepan enacting a multitude of Dmitri's experiments, experiments in which invariably the small automatic hammered bullets into Stepan's chest, the blow-torch flamed in Stepan's face, hot coins were dropped with seeming harmlessness on Stepan's wrists! That horror on the floor, that horror that had been the servant Stepan. that horror that had. in the moment of Dmitri's passing, changed!"

"Dear—God!"

For the flesh-and- blood face of the servant Stepan had vanished, and in its place there remained only nightmare, only a flame-charred, crimson skull! The horror lay upon its back, its arms outflung, as it had lain while Ethredge pinioned it down. Its jacket was open, and the


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 exposed expanse of shirt-front was a sticky crimson smear.

"Dear—God!"

Those bullets, those hundreds of bullets, that Dmitri must have fired, during the months and years, through Stepan's chest! And somehow Peters knew, as he gazed through mercifully glazed eyes upon the horror outsplayed there, that beneath the red-drenched shirt there remained no shred of mortal flesh, but only a bleeding, bullet-blasted hole!

And on Stepan's wrists Peters saw the holes, the great fire-seared holes, the charred, circular holes the size of a half-dollar....

"Dear—God!" Peters was babbling. over and over, inanely.

, while his brain reeled and his soul retched as he gazed upon the ghastly thing on the floor, he yet realized that the same release that had, in the instant of Dmitri's passing, loosed Mary Roberts" nerves and muscles from the death-laden throes of convulsion, had also, and in that same awful instant, freed Stepan's subconscious from the enjoinment that his body was invulnerable to physical injury. And with that release had come Stepan's doom—the long-delayed death that should have been his in the instant, now perhaps years in the past, that Dmitri had first blasted a bullet through his heart.

In that moment Peters was hardly a man — he was more an animal, terrified, near mad with horror. He realized only vaguely that his hands were clenched into rigid fists, that his heart was pounding with frantic rapidity. He could feel his spine crawl and bristle; sweat, reeking with adrenal secretions, leaped from his pores.

But warningly, through waves of horror, some tiny figment of his brain was reiterating the command, "Don't let go of yourself! Don't let your nerve break!"

Slowly, then, he tore his gaze away from that horror on the floor. And, gradually, his vision cleared, his brain resumed its functioning. He had been close to madness....

He saw Ethredge, then, standing close beside the table, gazing at the horror at his feet, swaying, tottering drunkenly. Just as the Commissioner would have reeled to the floor Peters stumbled to his feet, grasped the man, guided him like a shambling cretin to a chair, fumbled in the Commissioner's hip pocket for his whisky-flask.

"Dear Lord!" Peters whispered, as he forced whisky into Ethredge's trembling mouth. "Dear Lord! if this doesn't drive him—drive her—mad——"

That horror—that horror on the floor!

But the hot, burning stimulant was bringing color back into Ethredge's face. Swiftly Peters turned to Mary, tilted her head back, poured a staggering draft down her throat. Gently he lifted her up, supported her to a chair, where she sat dazedly. Mercifully, she was in almost a comatose condition.

Ethredge was beginning to find words. "That thing—that—thing!" he was mumbling.

Incisively, then, Peters spoke. "Commissioner, you've got to get hold of yourself. We must get the medical examiner here, get Hanlon and Delaney and men from the Medical Association; we must hush this affair up. Thank God we have influence; thank God the horrors Dmitri has perpetrated on this man have been witnessed by many persons. Perhaps the story will be—a private experiment that failed, and Dmitri dead—of heart-failure. Dmitri was, after all, diabetic, and his heart was untrustworthy. But—we cannot wait; we must call Hanlon at once," He moved toward the telephone.


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix F

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix F


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 "But Dmitri!" Ethredge whispered. "Dmitri—dead of cyanide poisoning! The medical examiner will know. Dmitri—murdered!"

Peters turned. His face, as he slowly shook his head, was enigmatic.

"No, Commissioner. Remember that I once told you that there might even be a certain poetic justice in the manner by which Dmitri might be most safely—destroyed? That pellet was harmless, made of crushed almonds and flour; Dmitri was his own executioner. He believed that he was tasting cyanide, and so he died; his own weapon, the power of suggestion, killed him—justly."

He was lifting the telephone to his ear. But before he dialed the well-remembered number he looked, thoughtfully, for a long moment, at Dmitri, at the bloated, repulsively hairless hulk that had once housed a brilliant, utterly evil soul.

"Poor, warped devil!" he softly mused; "he could treat and cure others by suggestion, but he could not treat himself. And now he is dead. Well"

The short, stubby fingers of his right hand were dialing the number. And, as he listened to the small, reiterated grating sound of the whirling dial, he realized, vaguely, that Ethredge had gone to Mary Roberts, that Ethredge was stooping over her comfortingly, soothing her within his strong, embracing arms.


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix G

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix G


text: Weird Tales/Volume 31/Issue 3/The Thing on the Floor


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix H

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix H


text:
User talk:Stanning

Welcome
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Again, welcome! Beeswaxcandle (talk) 22:28, 21 September 2012 (UTC)

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User talk:Ashishawasthi.a

Welcome
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Hello, Ashishawasthi.a, and welcome to Wikisource! Thank you for. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:
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text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Pfuhl, Johannes

PFUHL, pfōōl, (1846—). A German sculptor, born in Löwenberg, Silesia. He studied in the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts under Schievelbein, became his master's assistant and completed his plans for the bronze memorial now in the Dönhoffsplatz, Berlin. Soon after Schievelbein's death Pfuhl settled in Charlottenburg. He made a few portrait busts, but his more typical products are colossal groups or reliefs, including a frieze in rilievo, commemorating the Franco-Prussian War, for the military school of Lichterfelde (1876); a statue of Count Stolberg, in Landeshut, Silesia; “Perseus Liberating Andromeda,” a fountain decoration in Posen, and also in the Goethe Theatre in Charlottenburg (1884); “Theseus, Hippodameia, and Eurytion” (1886); an equestrian statue of William I. with Bismarck and Von Moltke, in Görlitz (1893); and the Laube monument at Sprottau (1895).


text: Template:Weird Tales link

title: Template:Weird Tales link


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Template:Weird Tales link/date

This page is information only, and utilised by the parent template ../

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User talk:Bohun

With the imminent demise of The National Archives website Your Archives to which I contributed, I have decided to (hopefully) transfer my transcription efforts to Wikisource instead. I have some transcripts of the Minutes of the Meetings of the War Cabinet of the British Government for the period December 1916, all transcribed from CAB 23/1 (TNA ref:) which covers the minutes of Meetings 1 to 82 of the War Cabinet. I assume for transcription purposes the Minutes of the 82 meetings should be treated as separate publications though there is also a Title page covering all 82 minutes plus an index at the end to all 82 meetings. How should I treat the Title page and index?

I've been experimenting with the formatting tools available (very nice) and the first page of the text of Meeting 1 would look something like this:

D. Clerks File.

SECRET.

I would probably add Wikilinks for all people with entries, plus geographical locations, military units and ships Bohun (talk) 22:37, 21 September 2012 (UTC)

sidenotes begin & hanging indent inherit
I have had a quick shove around of [en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=Page%3AMinutes_of_War_Cabinet_Meeting_1.djvu%2F2&diff=4074337&oldid=4074294 page 2] of the text. As our purpose is to transclude pages and that we need to be aware of a wide variety of screen sizes we try to keep the text into the body of the Page: ns less hard formatted. Also using the header/footer fields to hold certain formatting when we want the page to look okay, however, being aware that we are going to need to transclude. No text layer in that DJVU :-( — billinghurst  sDrewth  00:02, 24 September 2012 (UTC)

title: User talk:Bohun


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text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/11

PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON

MCMXIV


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/8

 By JOSEPH PENNELL

Reproductions of a series of lithographs by him, together with impressions and notes by the artist and an introduction by W. H. D. ROUSE, M.A., L.H.D.

Crown Quarto, printed on dull finished paper, lithograph by Mr. Pennell on cover. $1.25 net.

Reproductions of a series of twenty-eight lithographs made on the Isthmus of Panama, January-March, 1912, with Mr. Pennell's introduction, giving his experiences, impressions and full description of each picture.

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 which is in ten degrees, and in this island Fernando de Magalhāes did what he pleased with the consent of the country, and in one day eight hundred people became Christian, on which account Fernan de Magalhāes desired that the other kings, neighbours to this one, should become subject to this who had become Christian: and these did not choose to yield such obedience. Fernan de Magalhāes seeing that, got ready one night with his boats, and burned the villages of those who would not yield the said obedience; and a matter of ten or twelve days after this was done he sent to a village about half a league from that which he had burned, which is named Matam, and which is also an island, and ordered them to send him at once three goats, three pigs, three loads of rice, and three loads of millet for provisions for the ships; they replied that of each article which he sent to ask them three of, they would send to him by twos, and if he was satisfied with this they would at once comply, if not, it might be as he pleased, but that they would not give it. Because they did not choose to grant what he demanded of them, Fernan de Magalhāes ordered three boats to be equipped with a matter of fifty or sixty men, and went against the said place, which was on the 28th day of April, in the morning; there they found many people, who might well be as many as three thousand or four thousand men, who fought with such a good will that the said Fernan de Magalhāes was killed there, with six of his men in the year 1521.


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 When Fernan de Maghalāes was dead the Christians got back to the ships, where they thought fit to make two captains and governors whom they should obey; and having done this, they took counsel [and decided] that the two captains should go ashore where the people had turned Christians to ask for pilots to take them to Borneo, and this was on the first day of May of the said year; when the two captains went, being agreed upon what had been said, the same people of the country who had become Christians, armed themselves against them, and whilst they reached the shore let them land in security as they had done before. Then they attacked them, and killed the two captains and twenty-six gentlemen, and the other people who remained got back to the boats, and returned to the ships, and finding themselves again without captains they agreed, inasmuch as the principal persons were killed, that one Joam Lopes, who was the chief treasurer, should be captain-major of the fleet, and the chief


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 will repeat this operation during the four days following, and strain the sugar off every time, and boil it before you put the pears in, because, as your will perceive, the sugar always throws off a white scum, which must be taken off; and it is after that you must put your pears in and boil them. When, you see the syrup is very thick, and that your pears have well taken the sugar, put them in pots, and take care that they be well covered with syrup, or else they will-soon turn mouldy. Cover them with paper or parchment.

Take any quantity of ananas, cut them into four quarters, or in round slices, and pare off the skin, then take clarified sugar and water in equal quantities, put in the ananas, and proceed as before, taking care to skim them well during the time you are doing them; for it is very essential to remark, that when you are making any sort of preserves whatever, if you do not skim them well they are apt to grow sour, which occasions a great deal of trouble to repair them again. You must not boil the ananas in water first, as directed for the other fruits, because it would deprive it of its best substance and flavour.

Pare your oranges; make a round hole in the bottom, where the stalk grew, the bigness of a shilling; take out the meat and put them into salt and water for two or three hours, then boil them


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 them very tender, and put them into clarified sugar; give them a boil the next day, drain the syrup and boil it till it becomes smooth; put in your oranges, and give them a good boil; when a little cool, drain them, and fill them with a marmalade made as directed, putting in the round piece you cut out; with the syrup, some other sugar, and pipping juice, make a jelly and fill up your pots and glasses.

For variety take three of your preserved oranges take off the tops, cut them so as to look like little cups, and fil them with this marmalade; they both eat pleasant, and make a variety.

Take the green oranges, slit them on one side, and put them into a brine of salt water, as strong as will bear an egg, in which they must be soaked at least fifteen days; then strain them and put them into fresh water, and boil them tender; put them into fresh water again, shifting them every day for five days together; then give them another scald, and put them into clarified sugar; give them a boil, and set them by till next day; then boil them again; the next day add some more sugar, and give them another boil; the day after boil the syrup very smooth, pour it on them and keep them.

Note.—That if at any time your perceive the syrup begin to work, you must drain them and boil the syrup very smooth, and pour it on them ; but if the first proves sour, boil it like wise. Green mons


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 are done after the same manner. If the oranges are any thing large, you must take put the meat from the inside.

The Dutchess of Cleveland's Receipt for preserving Lemons, Oranges and Citrons.

Take good lemons, fair and well coloured, and scrape a little of the uppermost rhind; take out the seeds and the juice; lay them in spring water, shifting them twice a day for a day or two; then boil them to be tender, with a pound and quarter of double-refined sugar, and a pint and three-quarters of spring water; take the scum off, and put in your lemons; have ready a pint of pippin water; boil it first with half a pound of sugar, and put it to them; boil it to a jelly, and put in the juice of your lemons; then let them boil, but a little after, and put them into your glasses, but be sure to cover them with syrup.

How to take out the Seeds.

Cut a small hole in the top, and take them out with a scoop; dry them before you put them into your syrup, with a clean cloth.

To preserve Green Gages.

Take any quantity of green gages, prick them with a pin, put them in a pan with water, and set them on the fire; when you see the water beginning to boil, take them off and leave them in the same water to cool till the next day, when you are to set them again on a very gentle fire, that they may turn green. When you see they are green enough, put them in a sieve to drain; then


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 At the same time take large green cucumbers, full ripe, and cut them in four, longways; put them into cold water, cover them with green vine leaves, and set them over a charcoal fire till they boil; take them off, throw them into cold water, and repeat it several times, till they are a fine green, and tender; then preserve them as before, or dry them as your other Candied sweetmeats; either way they answer in tarts, mince-pies, or cakes, as well as citron.

To preserve green Almonds.

Take the almonds when they are well grown; and make a lye with wood, charcoal and water; boil the lye till it feels very smooth, strain it through a sieve, and let it settle till clear; then pour off the clear into another pan, and set it on the fire in order to blanch off the down that is on the almonds, which you must do in this manner, viz. when the lye is scalding hot, throw in two or three almonds, and try when they have been in some time, if they will blanch; if they will, put in the rest, and the moment you find their skins will come off, remove them from the fire, put them into cold water, and blanch them, one by one, rubbing them with salt: then wash them in several waters, in order to clean them; in short, till you see no soil in the water; when this is done, throw them into boiling water; and let them boil till so tender as a pin may easily pass through them; drain and put them into clarified sugar without water, they being green enough do not require a thin sugar to bring them to a colour; but, on the contrary, if too much heated,


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 then take clarified sugar, in which add three parts water, then the plumbs, and set the whole on a slow fire to make them throw off their water; after which, put them in a pan for two days, and then add clarified sugar, and proceed as for other preserves.

To preserve Cucumbers.

Take little gerkins, put them in a large deep jug, cover them close down with vine leaves, fill the jug with water, cover it with a plate, set it in the chimney corner, a little distance from the fire, yet so as to keep warm; let them stand so a fortnight, then throw them into a sieve to drain; they will look very yellow, and will smell disagreeable; throw them into spring water once or twice, to clear them; put them into a large deep stew-pan, or preserving-pan; cover them all over with vine leaves, put in as much clear spring water as will cover them; set them over a charcoal fire, look often at them, and when they are turned a fine green, drain off that water and put them into fresh cold water; have your syrup made ready thus; to every pound of sugar add one pint of water, the clear peel of a lemon cut in long shreads, an ounce of ginger boiled in water for a quarter of an hour; put the ginger and lemon peel to the sugar and water, boil it to a syrup, throw in your cucumbers, and give them a boil, pour them into the pan you intend to keep them in, let them stand till next day, and boil them again three times; when cold, cover them up, and they make as fine a sweet as is tasted. At


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 heated, they will become too dark a green; the next day boil the syrup and put it on them, the day after boil it till it be very smooth, the day following give all a boil together, scum them and let them lie four or five days; then, if you will dry them or put them in jellies, you must follow the directions as for green apricots.

 * Note.—If you will have compote of either, it is but serving them to table when they are first entered, by boiling the sugar a little more.

To preserve white Citrons.

Cut your white citrons into what size pieces you please; put them into water and salt for four or five hours; then wash them in fair water, and boil them till tender; drain them, and put them into as much clarified sugar as will cover them, and set them by till next day; then drain the syrup, and boil it a little smooth; when cool, put in your citrons; the next day boil your syrup quite smooth, and pour on your citrons; the day after boil all together, and put it into a pot to be candied, or put it into jellies, and compose it as you may think proper.

To preserve orange Flowers.

Take the orange flowers just as they begin to open, put them into boiling water, and let them boil very quick till they are tender, putting in a little juice of lemon, as they boil, to keep them white; then drain them, and dry them carefully between two napkins; put them into as much clarified sugar as will cover them; the next day drain


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 drain the syrup, and boil it a little smooth; when almost cold, pour it on the flowers, and the following day you may drain them and lay them out to dry, dusting them a very little.

To preserve Cocheneal.

Take one ounce of cocheneal and beat it to a fine powder; boil it in three quarters of a pint of water to the consumption of half; then beat half an ounce of roach allum, and half an ounce of cream of tartar, very fine, and put them to the cocheneal; boil them all together a little while, and strain it through a fine bag, which put into a phial and keep for use.

 * Note.—If an ounce of loaf sugar be boiled in with it, it will keep what you do not use immediately from moulding.

To preserve Golden Pippins in Jelly.

Pare your pippins from all spots, and, with a narrow-pointed knife, make a hole quite through them; then boil them in fair water about a quarter of an hour; drain them, and take as much sugar as will cover them; boil it till it blows very strong, then put in your pippins, and give them another; then if you have, for example, a dozen of pippins, take a pound of sugar, and boil it till it blows very strong; put in half a pint of pippin jelly, and the juice of three or four lemons; boil all together, and put to the golden pippins; give them all a boil, scum them, and put them into glasses or pots.

To


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Pare them very thin, and put them into a clean stewpan, saucepan, or preserving-pan, according to the quantity you want; but scoop out the cores, and into every pippin put two or three long narrow bits of lemon peel; take the parings, boil them in water enough to cover the pippins, strain it, and make it as sweet as syrup; pour it on your pippins, and stew them till they are quite tender; they make a pretty plate.

To preserve Barberries.

Take a pound of barberries picked from the stalks, put them into two quart pans, set them in a brass pot full of hot water, to stew them; after this strain them, add a pound of sugar, and a pint of rose water, boil them together a little, take half a pound of the best clusters of barberries you can get, dip them into the syrup while it is boiling, take out the barberries, and let the syrup boil till it is thick; when they are cold, put them into glasses or gallypots with the syrup.

To preserve Barberries in Bunches.

Take any quantity of barberries without stripping them of their stalks, split them with a knife, take out all the seed which is in them, then tie them in little bunches; have clarified sugar, which set on the fire: when your sugar is at a high degree, put your little bunches in and boil them about ten minutes, after which put them in a pan, and place them in the stove with a slow fire for three days running; at the end of which time, take them from that sugar which you set again


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 again on the fire, to heighten it again to the above degree; for the barberries will have weakened it by throwing their juice in it. When that is done, put the bunches again in it, and place it as before in the stove for three whole days, after which draw out your bunches from the sugar, and put them to drain on a wire grate, made on purpose for these sorts of things; then range them on a horse hair sieve, and replace them in the stove to dry, and they are ready for use.

To preserve Angelica in Knots.

Take young and thick stalks of angelica, cut them into lengths of about a quarter of a yard, and scald them; then put them into water, strip off the skins, and cut them into narrow slips; lay them on your preserving pan, and put to them a thin sugar, that is, to one part sugar, as clarified, and one part water; set it over the fire, let it boil, and set it by till next day; then turn it in the pan, give it another boil, and the day after drain it and boil the sugar till it is a little smooth; pour it on your angelica, and if it be a good green, boil it no more; if not, heat it again, and the day following boil the sugar till it is very smooth, and pour it upon your angelica; the next day boil your syrup till it rises to the top of your pan, and put your angelica into your pan; pour your syrup upon it, and keep it for use.

To preserve Angelica in Sticks.

Angelica, not altogether so young as the other, cut into short pieces, about half a quarter of a yard, or less; scald it a little, then drain it, and put it into a thin sugar as before; boil it a little the


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 the next day, turn it in the pan the bottom upwards and boil it, and then finish it as the other for knots.

 * Note.—When you will candy it, you must drain it from the syrup, wash it,and candy it as the orange and lemon.

Take your ringoe roots, and parboil them reasonably tender; then pick and peel them; wash them very clean, dry them with a cloth, and put in as much clarified sugar as will cover them; boil them leisurely on a chafing dish of coals, till you see the rolls look clear and your syrup something thick, betwixt hot and cold, and put them up.

Take the white of an egg, beat it very well, and take double refined sugar, beaten very fine and sifted; then take the marjoram, and rub it on a glass that is clean, and lay it in form of the glass; so do it with your eggs, then seer it with your sugar on it, and lay it on papers to dry.

To preserve Quinces white.

Pare and core the quinces; to every pound of sugar and quinces, put in a pint of water; boil them together as fast as you can, uncovered; the same way you may preserve pippins white.

To preserve Quinces white or red.

Core and pare your quinces; those which you would have white, put into a pail of water for two or three hours; then take as much sugar as they


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 they weigh, and add as much water as will make a syrup to cover them; boil the syrup a little, then put in the quinces, and let them boil as fast as you can till they are very tender and clear; afterwards take them out, and boil the syrup a little higher alone, and when it is cold put the quinces up in pots; if you would have them red, put them raw into sugar and let them boil gently, being closed covered, till they are red; you must not put them into cold water.

To preserve Apricots green.

Take the apricots when about to stone, before it becomes too hard for a pin easily to pass through; pare them in ribs very neatly, because every stroke with the knife will be seen; then put them into fair water as you pare them, and boil them till tender enough to slip easily from your pin; drain them and put them into a thin sugar, that is to say, one part sugar clarified, and one part water; boil them a little, and set them by till next day; then give them another boil, and the day after drain them, boil your syrup four or five days; then boil some more sugar till it blows hard, and add it to them; give all a boil, and let them lie till the day following; then drain them from the syrup, and lay them out to dry, dusting them with a little fine sugar before you put them into the stove.

Take the apricots when full grown, pare them, and take out their stones; then have ready a pan of


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 cardamoms and cubebs, of each half an ounce; nutmegs, two ounces: cut and bruise these ingredients, and digest them four days in eleven gallons of proof spirit and two gallons of water; then draw off ten gallons, and sweeten with fine sugar. It is good in all nervous cases, palsies, epilepsies, and loss of memory.

Take the flowers of white lilies and Spanish jessamine, of each half a pound; orange, jonquil and pink flowers, of each four ounces; damask roses, one pound; let them all be fresh gathered, and immediately put into a glass alembic, with a gallon of clean proof spirit, and two quarts of water; place the alembic in Balneum Mariæ, and draw off till the faints begin to rise.


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 ; redistil in Balneum Mariæ, and keep the water in bottles well stopped for use.

Take of the essence of ambergris, half an ounce; put it into a glass alembic, with a gallon of spirit of wine, and two quarts of water; place the alembic in Balneum Mariæ, and draw off till the faints begin to rise.

Take of the best turpentine a pound and an half; olibanum, three ounces; aloes wood powdered, one ounce; grains of mastic, cloves, gilly-flowers, or rosemary flowers, nutmegs, and cinnamon, of each two ounces and an half; saffron, one ounce: powder the whole, and digest them six days in eleven gallons of spirit of wine; adding two scruples of musk tied up in a rag; and draw off in Balneum Mariæ till it begins to run foul. It is a high aromatic cordial, invigorates the intestines, and thereby promotes digestion, and dispels flatulencies: it is a sovereign remedy for catarrhs and pains arising from colds; as also in palsies, epilepsies, apoplexies and lethargies, the parts affected being well rubbed with it.

Take the flowers of camomile, leaves of pennyroyal, lavender, marjorum, rosemary, sage, and ground-pine, of each eight ounces; myrrh, four ounces; cloves and cinnamon, of each one ounce; roots of piony, two ounces; pellitory of Spain, and cypress orrice, of each one ounce; the lesser cardamoms


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 days longer in digestion; dissolve two pounds of fine sugar in a quart of water, add to it the tincture, and run it through the filtrating bag.

Take the outer or yellow peels of six citrons; two drachms of mace bruised; a gallon of proof spirit and two quarts of water: draw off with a gentle fire till the faints begin to rise, and sweeten with fine sugar.

Take the outer peels of twelve citrons, three quarts of fine proof spirit, and a quart of water; put all into a glass alembic, and distil to a dryness in Balenum Mariæ; filter the water, and put it into bottles well stopped.

Take the essence of cedrat, bergamot, orange, and lemon, of each two drachms; a gallon of rectified spirit, and two quarts of water: put all into a glass alembic, and distil in Balneum Mariæ till the faints begin to rise, when the receiver must be immediately removed.

Take of the seeds of daucus creticus, or candy carrots, two ounces; a gallon of spirit of wine; and two quarts of water: distil in Balneum Mariæ till the faints begin to rise: then add to the spirit drawn over, an ounce of the essence of lemons, and four drops of the essence of gris;


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 in a mortar, and put them into the still, with ten gallons and an half of proof spirits, and two gallons of water: draw off with a gentle fire till the faints begin to rise, and sweeten with fine sugar. It is good in cholics, nauseas of the stomach and gripings of the bowels.

Take of orange flowers fresh gathered, two pounds; coriander seed, three ounces; nutmegs, half an ounce: bruise the nutmegs and coriander seed, and put them together with the orange flowers, into an alembic, with a gallon of proof spirit, and two quarts of water: draw off the liquor with a gentle fire, till the faints begin to rise, and sweeten with fine sugar.

Take the outer rind of eight large florentine citrons; half an ounce of cinnamon bruised; and a gallon of rectified spirit: distil to a dryness in Balneum Mariæ: then dissolve two pounds of sugar in a quart of water, and mix it with the distilled liquor, and run it through the filtrating bag, which will render it bright and fine.

Take the yellow rind of six bergamots, half an ounce of cinnamon, and two drachms of cloves; bruise the spices, and digest the whole six days in a gallon of rectified spirit; and then add a drachm of saffron, and let the whole stand six days


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Take of the roots of angelica, four ounces; of cinnamon and orris root, each half an ounce; bruise these ingredients in a mortar; put them into an alembic, with a gallon of proof spirit and two quarts of water: draw off a gallon with a pretty brisk fire.

Take of the essence of cedrat, fifty drops; of the essence of bergamot, thirty-six drops; of the essence of citron; sixty drops; and of the essence of Portugal orange, sixty-four drops; fine proof spirit, one gallon; water, two quarts: draw off with a pretty brisk fire till the faints begin to rise, and sweeten with fine sugar.

Take of cinnamon, two ounces; nutmegs and cloves, of each three drachms; and mace, six drachms: bruise the spices in a mortar, and add a gallon of proof spirit, and two quarts of water: digest twenty-four hours in a close vessel, and distil with a brisk fire till the faints begin to rise; and sweeten with fine sugar. It is an excellent stomachic, good in all depressions of the spirits and paralytic disorders.

Take of sweet fennel seed seven ounces; coriander seed, nine ounces; the seeds of angelica and anise, of each three ounces: bruise all these in


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 “You never said you was coming—is n’t the’ a lot of things?—that lion ’s killed three men I ’ve spent my tuppence—an’ look here.”

He pulled from his pocket two egg-cups, with pink moss-roses on them.

“I got these from that stall where y’ave ter get them marbles in them holes. An’ I got these two in two goes—’aepenny a go—they ’ve got moss-roses on, look here. I wanted these.”

She knew he wanted them for her.

“H’m!” she said, pleased. “They are pretty!”

“Shall you carry ’em, ’cause I ’m frightened o’ breakin’ ’em?”

He was tipful of excitement now she had come, led her about the ground, showed her everything. Then, at the peep-show, she explained the pictures, in a sort of story, to which he listened as if spellbound. He would not leave her. All the time he stuck close to her, bristling with a small boy’s pride of her. For no other woman looked such a lady as she did, in her little black bonnet and her cloak. She smiled when she saw women she knew. When she was tired she said to her son:

“Well, are you coming now, or later?”

“Are you go in’ a’ready?” he cried, his face full of reproach.

“Already? It is past four, I know.”

“What are you goin’ a’ready for?” he lamented.

“You need n’t come if you don’t want,” she said.

And she went slowly away with her little girl, whilst her son stood watching her, cut to the heart to let her go, and yet unable to leave the wakes. As she crossed the open ground in front of the Moon and Stars she heard men shouting, and smelled the beer, and hurried a little, thinking her husband was probably in the bar.

At about half-past six her son came home, tired now, rather pale, and somewhat wretched. He was miserable, though he did not know it, because he had let her go alone. Since she had gone, he had not enjoyed his wakes.


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Rh of boiling water, throw them into it, and scald them till they rise to the top of the water; take them out carefully with your scummer, and lay them in your preserving pan, and lay over them as much sugar, boiled to blow, as will cover them; give them a boil round, by setting the pan half on the fire and turning it about as it boils; then set it full on the fire, and let it have a covered boiling; then let them settle a quarter of an hour, and pick those that look clean to one side, and those that do not, to the other; boil that side that is not clear, till they become clear; and, as they do so, pick them away, lest they boil to a paste; when you see they look all alike, give them a covered boiling, scum them, and set them by; the next day, boil a little more sugar to blow very strong, put it to the apricots, and give them a very good boil; scum and cover them with paper, and put them in a stove for two days; then drain them and lay them out to dry, first dusting the plates you lay them on, and then the apricots extraordinary well, blowing off what sugar lies white upon them; put them into a very warm stove to dry, and when dry on one side, turn and dust them again; when quite dry, pack them up.

 * Note—In the turning them, you must take care there be no little bladders in them; if there be you must prick them with the point of a penknife, and squeeze them out, otherwise they will blow and sour.

Split the apricots, and then take out the stones; pare


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Page:Marguerie LeHand to Code Room - NARA - 194926.jpg

Churchill Folder April 2, 1941

MEMORANDUM FOR

The President would like to have you send the enclosed message.

M. A. Le. Hand

PRIVATE SECRETARY


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Dear Missy:

Because you told me that someone else had the same idea I had and that Steve Early sent him up to the British Embassy, I thought you might not give the President my memorandum today.

I have been trained as a skeptic in all things -- and I include Hess -- but, assuming this idea is worthwhile, it wll never get anywhere with the professional career men in the British Embassy or the State Department.

It is a "telephone" job between the President and Churchill, both of whom have imagination enough to see the advantage to both countries, and also because time is of the essence. Even tomorrow may be too late.


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text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mallet, Louis


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 CROSSING THE RIVER STYX.


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 THE SHEEP.


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 WHERE JUDGE MINOS ADMINISTERS JUSTICE.


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 TAILORS WHO WOULDN'T LEARN THEIR TRADE.


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 NOT A PLEASURE EXCURSION.


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 HE WAS TOO SUSPICIOUS.


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 THE PROFESSIONAL TRAMPS.


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 THE DEPARTMENT FOR LAWYERS.


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 THE POLITICAL CARTOONISTS. (A Little Distorted Themselves.)


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 THE MONSTER TIP SYSTEM.


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 A GREAT EVENT.


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 THE RECKLESS TALKERS.


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 BRIBE-TAKING ALDERMEN.


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 ONE SECTION OF THE NEW FEMALE DEPARTMENT.


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 THE CONCEIT TAKEN OUT OF THEM.


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 THE QUACK DOCTORS.


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 THE PUBLIC SPITTER.


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 FOR CHRONIC GRUMBLERS.


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Page:Dictionary of National Biography volume 30.djvu/34

 JOHNSON, ROBERT (1770–1796), engraver and water-colour painter, born in 1770 at Shotley, near Ovingham, Northumberland, was son of a joiner and carpenter, who shortly afterwards removed to Gateshead. Through the influence of his mother, who was acquainted with Thomas Bewick [q. v.], Johnson was in 1788 apprenticed to Beilby and Bewick in Newcastle, to learn copperplate-engraving. Johnson executed some unimportant engravings during his apprenticeship, but chiefly occupied himself in sketching from nature in water-colours. He made most of the drawings for Bewick's ‘Fables,’ which for minute excellency have hardly been excelled. His drawings for Bulmer's edition of Goldsmith's and Parnell's ‘Poems’ were cut by Thomas and John Bewick, and published in 1795. A fine drawing by Johnson of St. Nicholas's Church at Newcastle was engraved in wood by Charlton Nesbitt [q. v.]; Johnson made a small copperplate engraving from the same drawing for the publisher, Joseph Whitfield of Newcastle. Having a quarrel with Whitfield he engraved three caricatures of him. On the expiration of his apprenticeship, Johnson abandoned copperplate-engraving, and determined to take to painting. He was employed by Messrs. Morison of Perth to copy the portraits by Jamesone at Taymouth Castle, the seat of the Earl of Breadalbane, for reproduction in Pinkerton's ‘Iconographia Scotica.’ Johnson, however, caught there a chill, from the results of which he died at Kenmore, Perthshire, on 26 Oct. 1796, in his twenty-sixth year. He was buried in Ovingham churchyard, where a monument was erected to his memory by his friends. Two drawings by him were engraved by C. Warren, as illustrations to Gay's ‘Fables’ and Ossian's ‘Poems.’

(d. 1797), wood-engraver, cousin of the above, was born at Stanhope in Weardale, and was also apprenticed to Beilby and Bewick at Newcastle. He assisted in cutting some of the tail-pieces to Bewick's ‘British Birds’ and drew the illustration of the ‘Hermit’ for Bulmer's edition of Parnell's ‘Poems.’ He died at Newcastle about 1797, very soon after he had terminated his apprenticeship.

[Robinson's Life and Times of Thomas Bewick; Chatto and Jackson's History of Wood-engraving; Linton's Masters of Wood-engraving.]  JOHNSON, SAMUEL (1649–1703), political divine, was born in Staffordshire or Warwickshire (Some Memorials) in 1649, ‘of humble parentage’. He was educated at St. Paul's School, London, where he became librarian, and made progress in oriental languages. He entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, but did not graduate. Having taken orders, he was presented by Robert Biddulph on 1 March 1670 to the rectory of Corringham, Essex. The living was only worth 80l., out of which Johnson provided a curate and went to reside in London. Lord William Russell made him his domestic chaplain, and his knowledge of constitutional history (gained on the advice of Biddulph) proved serviceable to Arthur Capel, earl of Essex (1631–1683) [q. v.], and other whig leaders. On Palm Sunday, 13 April 1679, he preached before the lord mayor at the Guildhall chapel; the sermon (of which an edition was printed in 1684) was not directly political, but its argument against popery was intended to produce political effects in the direction of the ‘Exclusion Bill.’ The occasion was regarded by Johnson himself as the starting-point of a public career in which he threw away his liberty, ‘with both hands and with eyes open,’ in his country's service.

The publication which made his name was immediately suggested by a sermon before the lord mayor (1681, published 1682), by George Hickes [q. v.], on the ‘sovereign power.’ Johnson, in his ‘Julian the Apostate’ (1682, translated into Dutch 1688), made popery a modern paganism, portrayed the Duke of York in the character of Julian, and boldly argued, on constitutional grounds, against unconditional obedience. Hickes replied in his ‘Jovian’ (1683), upon which Johnson printed in the same year and entered at Stationers' Hall a tract on ‘Julian's Arts and Methods to undermine and extirpate Christianity,’ with special answers to Hickes and the writer of ‘Constantius the Apostate’ (1683). The discovery of the Rye House plot, followed by the committal of Russell to the Tower, made this tract inopportune; Johnson suppressed it, and it was not actually published till 1689, with a second edition of the original ‘Julian.’ There is little doubt that it was owing to Johnson's influence that Russell refused to save his own life by disowning the principle of resistance to unjust exercise of regal authority. Immediately after Russell's execution (21 July 1683)


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 Johnson was brought before the privy council and examined about his unpublished tract on ‘Julian's Arts.’ After three examinations he was committed to the Gatehouse on 3 Aug., but was liberated on bail. No copy of the tract was forthcoming; accordingly a prosecution founded on ‘Julian the Apostate’ was begun in the king's bench. Johnson was tried by Jeffreys and defended by Wallop. On 20 Nov. he was convicted of a seditious libel, fined five hundred marks, and sent to prison in default. His book was burned by the hangman. His necessities were relieved by a present of 30l. from Tillotson, and 10l. sent anonymously by Edward Fowler [q. v.], afterwards bishop of Gloucester. By the help of two friends he was at length enabled to give bonds which obtained for him the liberty of the rules.

He employed his liberty in printing tracts against popery, which were widely disseminated in 1685, and brought him into a paper war with Sir Roger L'Estrange [q. v.], in reply to whose ‘Observators’ he issued as a placard ‘A Parcel of wry Reasons and wrong Inferences, but right Observators.’ In 1686, when the forces were encamped on Hounslow Heath, he printed ‘An Humble and Hearty Address to all the English Protestants in the present Army.’ The impression made by this paper was very great. Calamy observes that Johnson ‘was by many thought to have done more towards paving the way for King William's revolution than any man in England besides.’ He had distributed about one thousand copies, when the rest of the impression was seized, and he was committed a second time for trial at the king's bench. The indictment charged him with great misdemeanors, but none were specified. Neither counsel nor a copy of the charge was allowed him. On 16 Nov. he was condemned to be degraded from the priesthood, to stand four times in the pillory, to pay a fine of five hundred marks, and to be whipped from Newgate to Tyburn. The degradation should, by the canon, have been executed by his diocesan, Henry Compton (1632–1713) [q. v.]; Compton, however, had been suspended on 6 Sept. The ceremony was performed in the chapter-house of St. Paul's on 20 Nov. by the administrators of Compton's see, the Bishops of Rochester (Sprat), Durham (Crewe), and Peterborough (White). Stillingfleet, then dean of St. Paul's, refused to attend. Johnson's demeanour was moving and dignified; he expressed his grief that ‘since all he had wrote was designed to keep their gowns on their backs, they should be made the unhappy instruments to pull off his.’ It appears that, though other formalities were duly observed, they forgot to strip him of his cassock, an omission which technically invalidated the degradation. He came (22 Nov.) in his cassock to the pillory; Rouse, the under-sheriff, tore it off and threw a frieze coat upon him. Efforts were made to have the whipping remitted. A Roman catholic clergyman is said to have offered to make interest with the king in this behalf, and a fee of 200l. was to be the reward of success. But James was obdurate. ‘Since Mr. Johnson,’ he said, ‘had the spirit of martyrdom, it was fit he should suffer.’ Accordingly on 1 Dec. Johnson received 317 stripes ‘with a whip of nine cords knotted;’ his spirit was absolutely unbroken, and the moral effect of the punishment was all in his favour. The king sent another clergyman to take possession of Corringham, but the administrators would not grant him institution without a bond of indemnity by reason of the flaw in the degradation, nor would the parishioners suffer him to enter the church. Before he was out of the surgeon's hands Johnson had reprinted three thousand copies of his tract, ‘A Comparison between Popery and Paganism,’ and used James's declaration (11 April 1687) for liberty of conscience as an opportunity for distributing these and for publishing an account of his trial. He maintained his pamphlet agitation until the revolution; one of his tracts was ‘A Way to Peace among all Protestants’ (1688), an historical argument for a comprehension of nonconformists.

On 11 June 1689 his case came before parliament, when it was resolved that the judgment against him in 1686 was illegal and cruel, and by subsequent resolution that his degradation was illegal and null. The House of Commons presented two addresses to the crown, recommending him for ecclesiastical preferment. The deanery of Durham was offered to him; he refused it, as beneath the value of his services. He expected a bishopric, but neither his spirit nor his politics commended him to the court. He scouted all the whig apologies for the revolution; rejecting the flimsy pretext which placed William's right to the crown upon conquest, he maintained that the monarch ‘has but one plain title, which is the gift of the people,’ and that of this gift the act of parliament is the ‘one plain proof.’ He is said to have scandalised William's courtiers by openly declaring at Whitehall that if kings were accountable only to God, the Rump parliament did right in sending Charles I to Him. Disappointment of his anticipations of high office roughened his temper. His attacks on Burnet were savage, and to Tillotson he was splenetic, though Tillotson not only avoided a


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Page:Old Melbourne Memories.djvu/7

 BY

AUTHOR OF 'MY RUN HOME,' 'THE SQUATTER'S DREAM,' 'ROBBERY UNDER ARMS,' ETC.

SECOND EDITION, REVISED

NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.

1896

All rights reserved

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Page:Old Melbourne Memories.djvu/9

 TO

MY EARLIEST ADMIRER AND MOST INDULGENT CRITIC

FROM WHOM

I DERIVE THE WRITING FACULTY

AND TO WHOM IS CHIEFLY DUE WHATEVER MEED OF PRAISE

MY READERS MAY HEREAFTER VOUCHSAFE

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