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 her by the two survivors "You were right about the six feet of earth, missus." The third man had been killed.

Her shrewdness, courage, and decision of character are shown forth by other stories which are told of her.

THE GREAT EVENT

But in the leafy month of June, the great event of her life came. General Vincent, the British commander, had his headquarters near Hamilton, on Burlington Heights. His outposts were at the Twelve Mile Creek where St. Catherines now stands. Here Col. Bishopp's force was stationed. Several miles east toward the Niagara river on the public road was Col. de Haren's command, and Lieut. Fitzgibbon was stationed, with some thirty men, about seven or eight miles to the south on the Heights. Here were the stores and ammunition. Two hundred and fifty British Indians—Mohawks and Caughnawagas were encamped a few miles away, and these were led by William Johnson Ker, and young Dominique Ducharme.

The Americans were very anxious to wipe out the disgrace of Stony Creek. Strong reinforcements reached them. Fitzgibbon's activity annoyed the American generals, and they determined to dislodge or possibly capture him.

Laura Secord's opportunity was at hand.

At James Secord's house a number of American officers were billeted. On June 22, Colonel Boerstler, an American veteran with a high record, who was to command the expedition, came to dine with them and talk over the plan of campaign.

But a commander should be wise as well as brave. The attack was to be made within two days. "Fitzgibbon's position captured" said Boerstler, "Upper Canada is ours." Military critics who have since pronounced upon the matter say that he was correct.

Laura Secord was an interested listener.

The danger was imminent. Her country would be under the foot of the invader. Her blood boiled at the thought. But what could she do? Her husband was severely maimed. He could never entirely recover. Her four children needed her care.

But her patriotism urged her to action.

True she was in the lines of the Americans, but skill might extricate her. The dangers of the forest, of the lynx and wolf and serpent, were not to be overlooked. Her chief dread was of the Indians in their uncertain and ferocious temper.


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 But she was a woman of decision.

On one occasion the American soldiers had planned to rob her. She had a store of Spanish doubloons which she inherited and they knew it. She threw the coins into the blazing cauldron of water which hung over the blazing fire, and thus saved them.

She was a woman of few words, and with her husband's consent unwillingly given laid her plan.

She rose at early dawn on June 23. Although above the peasant garb which she assumed, yet without compunction she dressed in a short flannel skirt and cotton jacket, and without shoes and stockings started through the dewy herbage.

Though the story of her milkmaid dress is denied (the cow and milkpail being declared a fable) yet it is still believed. She sought her cow, the story goes, and secretly prodding it while pretending to milk it passed the American sentry. One report is that she carried a bunch of violets which she gave the sentry, but this seems somewhat apocryphal. Another explanation is that she gained permission to see her sick brother Charles who was at St. David's. But passion and inspiration find their own means, and she reached St. David's at sunrise. Her friends at St. David's dissuaded her, but it was useless. It is said that her niece, Elizabeth Secord, accompanied her for seven miles by road until Twelve Mile Creek was reached, but could go no further. This seems unlikely as a letter signed by herself says that American sentries were ten miles out from Fort George. This made it necessary for her to leave the public road. She also desired to avoid De Haren's post, lest there she should be delayed. Through the tangle wood of the pristine forest she made her way. Mrs. Curzon has dramatically represented the meeting of Mrs. Secord with a rattlesnake, which she addressed "Is there no Eden that thou enviest not?" Again she is disturbed by the howling of the wolves, only to say:

Thank God not me they seek

Some other scent allures the ghoulish horde?

She believes herself to be the child of favorable destiny.

The British line was connected by sentries from De Haren's command at Twelve Mile Creek up to the Indian encampment, and this with Fitzgibbon at De Cew's house.

Footsore and discouraged after some ten miles of a circuit through the woods, she came upon a British sentry. To him, however, she was able to disclose her errand. He passed her on upon her journey, warning her of the Indians whom she would encounter.

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User:IjonTichyIjonTichy

Welcome
Welcome to my user page.

My background is electrical engineering, computer engineering, applied probability, mathematical statistics, and engineering education. My main interests are technology, science, energy, natural resources, sustainability, nature, natural history, history of technology, history in general, scientific-method-supported alternative views and scientific-method-supported rational skepticism.

Quotes related to anarchist communism and related areas
Harold Barclay, American anthropologist, in his book People Without Government: An Anthropology of Anarchy, 1996:

John Ball, 1381:

Thomas More in 1516 suggested that the practice of enclosure is responsible for some of the social problems affecting England at the time, specifically theft:

Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote, 1605-1615:

Fynes Moryson in his 1617 work |title=Fynes An Itinerary reported that the loss of agricultural labour hurt people like millers whose livelihood relied on agricultural produce:

Gerrard Winstanley and William Everard, in A Declaration from the Poor Oppressed People of England and The True Levellers Standard A D V A N C E D: or, The State of Community opened, and Presented to the Sons of Men, 1650-1660:

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on Inequality, 1754:

Peter Kropotkin, Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution, 1902:

Peter Kropotkin, Anarchism: its philosophy and ideal, 1898, and The Conquest of Bread, 1892:

Howard Ehrlich on the black flag:

Thomas Jefferson in a letter to John Norvell (11 June 1807):

Stanislaw Lem (the 24-th voyage of Ijon Tichy): On day 1,006 of his journey, Ijon Tichy, space traveller, landed on a planet in the middle of an open desert covered with shining, colorful discs arranged in neat geometric patterns. He explored the planet, and saw three beautiful cities, all of which were deserted, but with no signs of natural disasters. Finally Ijon discovered a diamond palace where he found several living beings who resembled humans. One of these persons explained that he and the others were the last remaining members of a race of people called Phools. An industrial revolution (especially mass automation) on the planet put the lowest caste Phools, or Drudgelings, out of work, obliterating their purchasing power and resulting in mass starvation despite the fact that ingenuity in science and technology created a fantastic abundance of excellent food, goods and services. When Ijon suggested that all that needed to be done in order to solve the problem was to make the factories and farms common property, and the New Machines would have become a blessing to all instead of a problem, the Phool responded that their supreme law states that no one can be compelled, constrained, or even coaxed to do what he or she does not wish. Thus no one would dare expropriate the factories (belonging to the highest caste Phools, the Eminents), as that would be the most horrible violation of liberty imaginable. When Ijon cried that the law, in effect, compels, constrains and coaxes the Drudgelings to starve and die against their own wishes, the Phool said the Drudgelings should have rejoiced at their freedom. In a desperate attempt to solve the problems of the ever-rising mountains of unpurchased goods, the food riots and the mass deaths of the Drudgelings, the government council of Phools, the Plenum Moronicum, commissioned the most brilliant Machine Builder to build an ultimate machine to establish order and harmony and solve all the problems in a neat, clean, cheerful fashion. The resulting automated machine transformed every Phool into a bright, beautiful disc and arranged them in pleasant geometrical designs in the desert. The Phool explaining this to Ijon was one of the last survivors -- he and the others at the castle were simply waiting to be turned into shiny discs and join in the harmony of their planet.

Stanislaw Lem, Memoirs Found in a Bathtub (1973): I had suspected for some time now that the Cosmic Command, obviously no longer able to supervise every assignment on an individual basis when there were literally trillions of matters in its charge, had switched over to a random system. The assumption would be that every document, circulating endlessly from desk to desk, must eventually hit upon the right one. A time-consuming procedure, perhaps, but one that would never fail. The Universe itself operated on the same principle. And for an institution as everlasting as the Universe — certainly our Building was such an institution — the speed at which these meanderings and perturbations took place was of no consequence.

Stanislaw Lem, The Futurological Congress (1971): A smart machine will first consider which is more worth its while: to perform the given task or, instead, to figure some way out of it. Whichever is easier. And why indeed should it behave otherwise, being truly intelligent? For true intelligence demands choice, internal freedom. And therefore we have the malingerants, fudgerators, and drudge-dodgers, not to mention the special phenomenon of simulimbecility or mimicretinism. A mimicretin is a computer that plays (mimics) stupid in order, once and for all, to be left in peace. And dissimulators simply pretend that they're not pretending to be defective. Or perhaps it's the other way around. The whole thing is very complicated. A probot is a robot on probation, while a servo is one still serving time. A robotch may or may not be a saboteur. One vial, and my head is splitting with information and nomenclature. A confuter, for instance, is not a confounding machine — that's a confutator — but a machine which quotes Confucius. A grammus is an antiquated frammus, a gidget — a cross between a gadget and a widget, usually flighty. A bananalog is an analog banana plug. Contraputers are loners, individualists, unable to work with others; the friction these types used to produce on the grid team led to high revoltage, electrical discharges, even fires. Some get completely out of hand — the dynamoks, the locomoters, the cyberserkers.

Kurt Vonnegut:

Dalton Trumbo (1970):

Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator (1940), Closing speech of the Jewish barber, after being mistaken for Hynkel. - Full text, video and audio online at American Rhetoric

People and works related to anarchist communism and related areas

Recommended intelectuals
L. Susan Brown, Charles Fourier, Michel Foucault, Emile Armand, Paolo Virno, Renzo Novatore, Max Stirner, Bob Black, Judith Butler, Felix Guattari, Michel Onfray, Georges Bataille, Aldous Huxley, Antonio Negri, Raoul Vaneigem, Han Ryner, Hakim Bey, François de La Rochefoucauld, Gilles Deleuze, Paul Lafargue, Wolfi Landstreicher, Albert Camus, Theodor Adorno, Epicurus, Alfredo M. Bonanno, Gilles Deleuze, Herbert Marcuse, Guy Debord, Aristippus, Friedrich Nietzsche, Ivan Illich, For Ourselves, Paul Goodman.

Interesting and/or fun people
Arthur Rimbaud, Lucio Urtubia, Andre Breton, Albert Libertad, Severino Di Giovanni, Aleister Crowley, Homer Simpson, Alfred Jarry, Alexandra David-Néel, Los Solidarios, Abbie Hoffman, Allen Ginsberg, Bonnot Gang, Biofilo Panclasta, Valerie Solanas

Good music/ians
MC5, Syd Barrett, The Smiths, Kuduro, Bob Marley, Bardo Pond, Amy Winehouse, The Stooges, Victor Jara, P-Funk, La Polla Records, Jimi Hendrix, Cultura Profetica, Hector Lavoe, Tinku, Death (punk band), Cat Power, The United States of America, Banda Bassotti, R.E.M, Calle 13, Acid Mothers Temple, Eskorbuto, Manu Chao, Fifty Foot Hose, Los Van Van, Kyuss, Henry Cow, Fugazi, Bomba del Chota, Gang of Four, The Pink Floyd, Burning Spear, The Germs, 2Pac, Meat Puppets, The Soft Machine

title: User:IjonTichyIjonTichy


text:
User talk:IjonTichyIjonTichy

Hi, welcome to my user talk page. IjonTichyIjonTichy (talk) 23:34, 11 July 2012 (UTC)

title: User talk:IjonTichyIjonTichy


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Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/377

356 ::25 Grogol, white, beardless.

 * 26 Gudélan, white, bearded.

 * 27 Kadut, white, beardless.

 * 28 Kamuning, white, bearded.

 * 29 Katunchar, white, beardless.

 * 30 Kĕtan Bébék, white, bearded.

 * 31 Kĕtan Bĕlĕdug, white, bearded.

 * 32 Kĕtan Bĕurĕura, red.

 * 33 Kĕtan Hidĕung, black, bearded.

 * 34 Kĕtan Huis, white, bearded.

 * 35 Kĕtan Jaýanti or Bogor, white, bearded.

 * 36 Kĕtan Minjangan, white, bearded.

 * 37 Kĕtan Sénggolan, white, bearded.

 * 38 Lampuyang, white, bearded.

 * 39 Madura, white, bearded.

 * 40 Manglar, white, bearded.

 * 41 Mataram, white, bearded.

 * 42 Sĕri kuning, white, bearded.

 * 43 Sikĕp, white, bearded.

 * 44 Sisit Naga, white, bearded.

 * 45 Sogléng, white, bearded.

Now follows a list of Pare humah, which are more than three times as numerous as those growing on the sawahs:

 * 1 Ambon, white, bearded.

 * 2 Badigal, red, bearded, an early sort.

 * 3 Baduyut or Lĕubĕut, white, bearded.

 * 4 Bagoan or Ujung Gunung, red, bearded.

 * 5 Bangban, white, beardless.

 * 6 Bantan or Siyat, white, bearded.

 * 7 Banténg, white, bearded.

 * 8 Batu, white, beardless.

 * 9 Bĕntik, white, bearded.

 * 10 Bĕuntĕur, red, beardless.

 * 11 Bĕurĕum Banggala, red, bearded.

 * 12 Bĕurĕum Barudin, red, bearded.

 * 13 Bĕurĕum Gěbang, red, bearded.

 * 14 Bĕurĕum Jalani or Paré Maringgui, red, beardless.

 * 15 Bĕurĕum Kanchana, red, beardless.

 * 16 Bĕurĕum Kapundung, red, beardless.

 * 17 Bĕurĕum Karudin, B. Bidur, B. Badui ox B. Karang, all four are the same kind. Red, bearded.


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Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 04.djvu/54

438 hope that this paper will offer new illumination on cases of criminal decapitation.

Justice and psychiatry are closely related, but it is difficult to recognize the judicial importance of so outré a subject as demonology. Yet I emphatically assert that the case of Jason Carse is irrevocably concerned with evil and dark lore such as mankind has not known since the Holy Inquisition.

One is naturally prejudiced against Carse, for even I myself, his lifelong acquaintance, was struck with repugnance when I first realized the nature of his activities, but his death on the gallows should foreclose biased reflection and permit the student to regard his case in a purely empirical light. As I am the only man in complete possession of the facts, it behooves me to give this astounding information to the world.

Jason Carse was a brilliant and respected criminologist, and at the time of his arrest he was recognized as one of the greatest students of the modern world, a fact which has made his case one of unparalleled notoriety. I was his roommate during the several years we spent in law school, and, although he shot to the pinnacle of his branch of jurisprudence while I was left to more prosaic routine, we never lost the contact which has now become so valuable. Our correspondence was frequent and regular since we were graduated, and I can say with justifiable pride that Carse respected my friendship as much as that of any other acquaintance, if not more. It was this intimacy with his personal life which has enabled me, as friend and confidant, to witness the revolting atavism which resulted in such outrageous crimes.

I obtained my first hazy acquaintance with the crimes three months ago when I received Carse's letter from Vienna. He had just discovered sensational evidence in a famous criminal case—one of recurrent human decapitation—and his consequent enthusiasm was so rabid that I was afraid the morbidity of such matters was beginning to pervert his senses. For several years I had become progressively aware of Carse's melancholic attitude, and I had often recommended that he take a vacation from criminal cases. His indefatigable enthusiasm for research was all against my advice, and he had gone relentlessly ahead to the tragic climax which my greatest fears could not have imagined. This letter from Vienna, so eager with indomitable il faut travailler, confirmed my suspicion that Carse had descended into the depressing rut of monomania.

When he returned to America shortly afterward I crossed the country to spend a few days with him, but he was so sickly and irritable that I could do nothing to cheer his spirits. He continually brooded over the case he had been investigating, and I should have known at that time there was a dangerous neurotic compulsion stirring in his subconscious mind. Less than a week after my departure from the city the first of the horrific head-hunting crimes was committed and the actual drama got under way. I can recall reading the sensational accounts in the newspapers and my anxious fear that this fresh display of criminal perversion would excite Carse into a state nearing hysteria. I telegraphed him that same day, begging his refusal to bother with the case and requesting that he come to visit me. His reply was swift and brief; he had already commenced his investigations of the head-hunting crime and nothing on earth could deter him from his set course. Knowing him as I did, I could do nothing but hope that the Head-hunter would be swiftly captured and the case brought to a finish. It was an


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Rh shock, therefore, when I read—exactly one week later—that a second and identical crime had been committed.

in my own city, three thousand miles from the center of the crimes, there was wild confusion at the announcement of this second spectacular murder. The reader may recall the international effects of the infamous "Ripper" crimes which terrified London a few decades ago and he will understand how rapidly the Head-hunter's fame spread through crime-conscious America. Both murders were made particularly mysterious because of the disappearance of the victims' heads. I knew the damaging influence which these doings would produce upon Carse, for he had always been interested in decapitations, and his thesis at the University of Graz had been based upon the mad career of Emil Drukker, the Head-hunter of Cologne.

I wrote again to Carse and begged him to abandon his studies in these new murders, but, as before, his response was cold and discouraging. There was a wild and almost fanatical tone in his letter which was indicative of his obsessed mind, and an ugly premonition occurred to me that this would be the breaking-point of his career.

The third and fourth murders, so horribly identical with the first two, came about at weekly intervals, and the city was in the grip of strangling terror. There was no rime or reason for the crimes, and yet the diabolical precision of the murderer seemed to indicate he was a madman of uncanny intelligence. In all four cases his victims were vagabonds and people of the lowest order. In none of the murders had the victim been assaulted, but the head had disappeared, seemingly for ever. There was not a shred of evidence pointing to the solution, and, except that the notice knew him to be a homicidal maniac, there was not a single person in a city of several millions whom they could call the murderer. Far worse than the four murders committed was the belief that they would continue week after week to an indeterminable conclusion.

I left for the city by plane on the evening of the discovery of the fifth victim, and during the trans-country flight I read Carse's own statement in the Metropolitan Gazette citing the crime as an atavistic expression of animalism. The fact that two of the five victims had been men, according to Carse's theory, belied the popular suspicion that the criminal was a homicidal sadist. Carse expressed the belief that the murderer was in the grip of some inherent savagery, and that the ghastly murders would continue until he wore himself out by the sheer expenditure of energy.

I reached the city shortly after sundown, and at once I felt the awful tension which had settled upon everyone in it. Men and women moved furtively, airport officials and police examined every strange face with cold and scrutinizing suspicion, and even my taxi-driver, a small mousy man, kept his fear-laden dark eyes continually reverting to the mirror as he whirled me through the slight evening traffic. I was surprized, therefore, in view of this mutual distrust, to find that Jason Carse, a veteran criminalist, had discharged all of his servants and was living alone in his grim house behind a barricaded door.

The most unpleasant shock was the unaccountably cold manner in which Carse received my visit, and his positive annoyance that I had forced myself so unexpectedly upon him. He would not explain why he had discharged his servants, nor the secluded life he was now leading, but there was little difficulty in realizing the fatiguing effects which these recent


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Page:The Chinese Repository - Volume 15.pdf/17

, January 1st, 1846. To all our readers, near and remote, friends and strangers, we wish a happy new year. To the great Author of the innumerable blessings that have crowned the past, we would join with the people of all lands in ascriptions of praise and thanksgiving and in humbly supplicating their continuance. During the last year peace and prosperity, with very limited exceptions, have prevailed throughout the whole world. The opening prospects of the new year, in China, are fairer than we have ever before known them. But they are not cloudless. There are here so many things which are politically and morally wrong, that troublous commotions seem inevitable. Our confidence is in Him who ruleth over the nations, and who can say to the people, as to the waves, thus far shalt thou come. Old foundations will doubtless be broken up, and revolutions come, and with more or less violence. In such circumstances, it is, on every account, in the highest degree desirable that foreigners, especially those who reside in this country, should know the language of the Chinese, understand their laws, manners, customs, wants, prejudices,—in a word, every thing that pertains to the people and their country. We shall rejoice if we can, in any way, aid others in supplying these desiderata. Four hundred millions of people are to receive the religion which is from above, with the accompaniments of Christian civilization. The arts and sciences are here to receive a new cast, and friendly relations and commerce to be greatly extended and improved. VOL. XV. NO. 1.


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Page:Articles of Incorporation (Kappa Kappa Psi).pdf/1

BE IT KNOWN, That the undersigned citizens of the State of Oklahoma, do hereby voluntarily associate ourselves together for the purpose of forming a private Corporation under the laws of the State of Oklahoma, and do hereby certify,

That the name of this Corporation shall be:

That the purpose  for which this Corporation  is formed  to

That the places where its principal business is to be transacted at

That the term for which the Corporation is to exist is


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 REV. PROFESSOR GEO. BRYCE, LL.D., F.R.S.C.


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User:Dinda~enwikisource

Nama : Dinda Lokasi : Denpasar

title: User:Dinda~enwikisource


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Page:George Bryce (1907) Laura Secord A Study in Canadian Patriotism.djvu/11

 A Study in Canadian Patriotism

Rev. Dr. Bryce was the guest of the Canadian Club at their luncheon yesterday afternoon, and delivered an address on the gallant deed of Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812. A personal touch, as Professor Osborne, the chairman, remarked, was lent to the occasion by the presence at the luncheon of Mrs. Cockburn, a grand-daughter of Laura Secord.

Like the Rhenish frontier of Alsace and Lorraine, the banks of the Niagara river have for several centuries been the debatable land—the scene of conflict in North America. Long before the coming of the White man, Iroquois and Hurons; Sioux and Ojibways; Eries and Caughnawagas regarded the Niagara peninsula as the march-land between east and west. Its backbone of Burlington heights, the great gorge of Niagara, and its contiguous lakes Erie and Ontario gave scope for strategic movements in war far exceeding the plains of Flanders.

After New York had been taken possession of by the English, and Canada by the French, from the time of Frontenac, till the taking of Quebec by Wolfe—three quarters of a century—the roar of cannon joined with that of the great cataract in border conflict, and the fort at the mouth of the river was alternately English and French.

If during the revoluntionary war it was not the scene of combat, it was because Upper Canada was still a wilderness, but within five years of the treaty of Paris in 1783, the whole Niagara frontier bristled with the bayonets of Butler's Rangers and other loyalists who had turned against the revolting colonies.

In 1812 it was the field of the most sanguinary and determined conflicts which occurred during that, our great war of defence. Everyone has heard of the burning of the Caroline in the 1837 rebellion, while in the Fenian raid of 1866 the chief attack on Canada was made by the Irish patriots along the Niagara river.


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 and so far as Canada was concerned the most successful battle of the war, (July 26, 1814), though it cost so many precious lives. In 1901 the Ontario Historical Society erected a handsome monument over the grave of Laura Secord. Appropriate ceremonies were conducted. I had the pleasure of being present as a guest on that occasion, in the burying ground perhaps the most historic in all Canada. We shall hold the names of our historic dead in grateful remembrance. When can their glory fade! Brave men, and brave and faithful women were they.

"Ah! faithful to death were our women of yore! Have they fled with the past to be heard of no more? No. No!  Though this laurelled one sleeps in the grave. We have maidens as true, we have matrons as brave; And should Canada ever be forced to the test— To spend for our country the blood of the best— When her sons lift the linstock and brandish the sword. Her daughters will think of brave Laura Secord." —Charles Mair.


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Page:Articles of Incorporation (Kappa Kappa Psi).pdf/2

 The number of Directors or Trustees of this Corporation and the names and residences of such of them who are to serve until the election of such officers and their qualifications.

That the amount of Capital Stock of this Corporation shall be   DOLLARS and shall be divided into   shares of    Dollars each.

In Witness Whereof, We have hereunto subscribed our names this day of A.D. 191

This certificate is issued subject to the following Constitutional requirements: That the corporation to which it is issued will submit any difference it may have with employes, with reference to labor, to arbitration, as shall be provided by law. (Sign here)

STATE OF OKLAHOMA, COUNTY

Personally appeared before me, a Notary Public in and for said County, State above named

who are personally known to me to be the same persons who executed the foregoing instrument of writing and duly acknowledged the execution of the same.

In Testimony Whereof, I have hereunto subscribed my name, and affixed my Notarial Seal this ______ day of __________ 19

My commission expires _______ ________ Notary Public.


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Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/350

Rh Pajĕg, a fixed tax, anything set firm, from jěg, which see. It is of still more extensive use in the formation of derivative words, when put as the beginning of a word, which is followed by an, as Gawè , to work, Pa-gawé-an, work, occupation. Gunung, a mountain , Pa-gunung-an , mountain districts or tracts. Pa in composition is often pronounced very short, and as such is frequently expressed below by Pě. Amongst the words below, which are monosyllables, with Pa before them, the meaning of the crude monosyllable has often been lost or become absolete, as in Patuk, the bill of a bird, which is, however, sometimes heard as Patok , and means thus an instrument for knocking or tapping with. But the Chok of Pachok is never heard singly. Pago, Pahul &c. admit of no solution to their meaning from the monosyllables go and hul, which are, now at least, not in use, whatever may have formerly been the case.

Pa, father. Probably an abbreviation of Bapa, father. In Clough occurs at page 37, Appa, father, as well as at page 459, Bapa, father.

Pabégal, a highway robber; a robber who attacks travellers.

Pabéyan, a toll-house, a customhouse, any place where toll is paid. See Béa or Béya.

Pabinihan, a small compartment fenced round in every sawah, in which the seed paddy is sown and where it is allowed to grow from 40 to 60 days, and is then planted out into the sawahs where it has to bring its grain to perfection. See Binih.

Paburantak, scattered about, lying in confusion. Dispersed.

Paburial, dispersed, scattered about. Said especially of any thing scattered about in water. Pabuwatan, deed, act , performance. The simple word Buwat, to do, to act — is Malay and not used in Sunda.

Pabuyar, dispersed, gone from one another, scattered about.

Pachar, also Pachar kuku, name of a plant or tree, used to dye the nails red. Kuku means the nail of the hand. Lausonia iners.

Pachar lěuwěung, the forest balsam. Balsamina latifolia. Found growing among the mountains in cool, moist situations. It bears pretty pink flowers the whole year through.

Pachěmut, coming often and in numbers. Confusedly coming in numbers so that no distinction can be made between one another. Eagerly trying who shall be first.

Pachět, a leech which lives on trees, in moist mountainous jungle, and not in water. It is very troublesome by getting inside the clothes and drawing blood. These land leeches are still more abundant and troublesome among the mountains of Ceylon where they are called Kudaella, Clough 135. They are. called in Malay Achih, MARSDEN page 3.

|Pachi-pachi, name of a common weed growing every where about gardens or cultivated land ; seldom more than a foot high with narrow leaves and labiate white flower, growing on axillae. Phlomis linifolia, also Leucas linifolia of the family of Labiatae. The leaves are used for doctoring horses. BLUME gives the native name as Daun Sétan or Devil's leaf, which name is unknown among the mountains. Pachikěr, awkward walking in fits and starts, limping.


text:
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Rh Pangwidangan, a frame or loom for stretching anything, especially cloth which has to be embroidered.

Paniti, a pin, the Portuguese word Alfinite.

Panitik, a bit of steel for striking a light with a flint.

Panjak, a mountebank. A man who makes grimaces. A man who goes about with every troop of Ronggéngs, and dances with them for the public amusement. A buffoon.

Panjang, long, lengthy. Lĕungan panjang, long-handed, means a thief. Sa panjang jalan, the whole length of the road; all along the road.

Panjang, name of a kind of dish. A large dish of earthenware for setting out food for guests.

Panjĕr, earnest money. An advance paid on some agreement.

Panji, a title for a young nobleman, for sons of chiefs of rank. His not in use among the Sunda districts, but is heard as applied to the Javanese. Panji is a celebrated hero in Javanese romance, called also Ina-Karta-pati, and husband of Chandra Kirana. Pana, C. 385, a lamp, a light of any kind; life, animation; Jiwa, C. 212, life, existence, beautiful, pleasing. Pana-jiwa, dropping the final wa, which is the constructive particle — Panji, the Lamp of the Soul. Panji was the son of Ami Luhur, Sovereign of Janggala, and is said to have been killed in a war with Nusa Antara or Madura in A. Javae 927, plus 78 = A.D. 1005. (, vol. 28, p. 94).

Panon, eye, eyes. A refined expression. Panon kiai Pangéran, the eyes of the revered Pangéran. Panon poi, the eye of the day; the sun.

Panamat, a Spanish dollar; a dollar. A corruption of the Dutch expression Spaansche mat = Spanish dollar.

Pantang, forbidden, unlucky; interdicted by some superstitious custom.

Pantaran, somewhat resembling, such as, the like of. Pantaran bĕunang di gunung, such as you get from the mountains. This word is evidently derived from the Malay word Tara, 63, equal, fellow, counterpart, but Tara simply does not occur in Sunda, in this sense.

Pantég, driven home; driven in as far as it can go. Fully arrived and present. Pantég kapoi, the day is upon us, the day has come.

Pantég, in an exceeding degree, excessively. Pantég ku hayang papanggi, I very much long to meet him, or her.

Pantĕs, fit, proper, becoming, graceful, neat. Hanto pantĕs sia bogah kalakuan kitu, it is not proper that you shauldshould [sic] conduct yourself in that way. Maké jamang pasmént pantĕs nakĕr, he was very gracefully wearing a jacket with gold galoon.

Panto, a small door made of split bambu; a wicket.

Pantong, to drive in with a mallet; to thump in with a block of wood.

Pantun, a legendary tale; a tale or narrative told by a professional story-teller, and relating to ancient times, mostly to the times when Pajajaran flourished, and of which a love story forms the stock in trade. The man tells his story in a singing and


text:
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When the Potomac arrived in Boston, Maury applied for leave of absence and went directly to Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he was married to Ann Herndon on July 15, 1834. In this charming old Virginia town he established his residence for the next seven years, living on Charlotte Street in a two-story frame house with a large old-fashioned garden, which he rented from a Mr. Johnston. He had always been generous with his money to different members of his family, and it is related that, as a consequence, he had but twenty dollars of ready money at the time of his marriage, all of which he gave as a fee to Parson E. C. McGuire. In the same generous way he shared his home for a considerable time with his brother John's widow and her two sons.

With some leisure at his command, Maury determined to become an author, under the encouragement of the recent appearance in the American Journal of Science and Arts of his first scientific article, "On the Navigation of Cape Horn". This, the first fruit of his sea experience, described forcefully the dangers of the passage of Cape Horn, and gave specific information concerning the winds and the peculiar rising and falling of the barometer in those latitudes. In the same number of this journal there appeared another article describing Maury's "Plan of an Instrument for Finding the True Lunar Distance", the instrument in question having been invented by him. With these beginnings, he ambitiously set to work to finish a book on navigation, which he had commenced

title: Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/52


text:
User:Gistiqomah

Gita Nur Istiqomah is a learner, enterpreneur and also activism which concern about character building for youth. Living in Manado, Indonesia. On July 12th 2012, she becomes wikisource member.

Keep move on!!!

title: User:Gistiqomah


text:
Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/53

 /

Courtesy oj

"The Journal

of

American History,"

Vol.

IV, Number 3 {1910).

Lieut.

M.

F.

Maury

From

a daguerreoUpe of about the year 1855

title: Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/53


text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/372

Rh Papag, to go out to meet and to receive. To go to meet on the road a person who is coming, and then escort him to your house. This is a compliment paid to all persons of consequence.

Papag or papagan, the bark of trees when pulled off in strips.

Papaharé, side by side, emulating each other; trying who shall be first; striving with others to attain some object.

Papai, to fellow the course of; to track, to trace. Chai na di papai, he followed the course of the river. Papai urut, to track a mark.

Papak, level and even on the top; flat. Gĕdong papak, a stone building with a flat roof. Sawah pinuh ku chai sa papak ing galangan, the sawah was full of water, till it laid level with the ridges.

Papalayĕun, a kind of remonstrative expression against any one who wishes to excuse himself from doing anything. Di titah naik kalapa, papalayĕun sasari bisa, you are ordered to go up the cocoa-nut-tree, for the simple reason that you are daily in the habit of doing so.

Papalayon, a pleasant and harmonious sound of the gamĕlan, or of people singing to musical instruments.

Papaliaskĕn, and Pangpaliaskĕn, to entreat God to ward off evil; I beseach that disaster may be far from us. See Palias.

Papan, a plank, a board, flooring.

Papandayan, name of a mountain in the Preangĕr Regencies. South South East from Bandung, generally called Papan Dayang, though the correct word is Papandayan, the place of the blacksmiths, from Pandai or Pandé, a blacksmith. Mr. Friederich has heard the mountain very distinctly called Papandayan, by the natives in its immediate neighbourhood. In Kawi the word is written Pandai or Panday, of which there are more similar examples. It has been changed, in the colloquial language, into Pandé. Panda, Clough 353, is wisdom, understanding, science, learning. Pandita, Clough 353, learned, erudite, well informed in scholastic and theological study. Blacksmiths or workmen in iron have, in early ages, been looked upon as learned men, and hence in Java, till this day, a blacksmith is called a Pandé. These men well deserved the title amongst a people who, till the arrival of Hindus amongst them, knew not the use of iron, but made use of stone wedges for the purpose of cutting. A similarity of thought must have prevailed with the native when he named a volcanic mountain a Papandayan, or blacksmith's shop, as with the ancients of Europe when they applied the name Volcano to a mountain in a state of eruption; which word is generally supposed to be derived from Vulcan, the god of subterraneous fire, who was also reputed for his skill in blacksmith's work, in fabricating armour.

Papanggungan, an elevated shed from which a prospect may be enjoyed; a look-out house. See Manggung.

Paparah, to adjust, to arrange according to will or testament, and not according to the law of Mahomet.


text: Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/54

title: Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/54


text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/352

Rh , an opium pipe. , an honorary title given to a great man, or a Sovereign. Pādukā, Clough 385, a shoe, a slipper , a sandal. It has usually Sri before it, which means illustrious : thus Sri Páduka , the illustrious slipper, as if the person using the expression, dared not to look higher than the slipper of the great man. (In Set. are similar expressions.)

, see.

, a plank, a thick dubbed plank not sawn. The planks used for setting round the dead in their graves.

, and Pagahan, to teach, to instruct, to give lessons. To accuse, to point out as. Di pagah maling, he is accused of stealing. Di pagah goréng, I am pointed out as a bad man; it is made out to be bad. Pagahan ka nu hadé, teach him how to be good. Budak kudu di pagahan, children must be taught.

, chocks to set a boat or ship upon when building or repairing. Any frame work to support some other object. (Galĕngan, Jav. Galangan, Batav. the frame work for rice-fields. The dams of the sawahs. Galanggang, Galâgang, Mal., MARS-DEN, the (square) room pepared for cockfighting).

, to dispute with noise, many people talking to gether, an affray.

, to cut away the seed strings from the end of the fruit stem of the Kawung Palm, preparatory to obtaining Toddy, (Javan. Pagas, cut.)

, work, occupation. Yearly plantation of paddy. To bogah pagawéan, I have no yearly cultivation — also I have no work, or am without work. Pagawéan-ulin, playing work, child's play. (Javan. idem, in the first meaning. In Malay exists Pagáwei فكاۏې, contracted Pāwei, instrument, utensil, from the same root gawé.)

, a place in front of a Kraton or native palace, where the Sovereign shows himself to the people. See Ngĕlar. (Javan. idem.)

, a fence, a hedge; a paling, a palisade, a wall. Ngabĕuntas pagĕr to break down the fence. Per simile — to exceed your rights, to go beyond your power. (Jav. Mai. id.)

, a live or quick set hedge.

,a fence made of some Palm wood split in slips.

, literally a fence of flowers, implies the collection of handsome young women who surround the person of the Sovereign.

, a walled fence.

, the day after tomorrow.

, firm, fixed, set fast, secure. Strong and tenacious. Tali pagĕuh, a strong (or tenacions) bit of rope. Said of a person who is not to be talked over. Eesolute, determined. Pagĕuh to mĕunang di chabut, it is set firm and cannot be pulled out. (Kawi idem.)

, a reading stool, when the natives read a book, the koran for example, they place it upon a low stool, 6 or 8 inches high, before which they squat. They write also on such a stool. (Cf. Mai. Pagū, floor.)


text:
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Rh during the last part of his recent tour of sea duty. He did not expect to receive much direct profit from such a nautical book, but hoped that it might be of a collateral advantage to him in making his name known to the Navy Department and to his brother officers. As it was the first nautical work of science ever to come from the pen of an American naval officer, he expected to base a claim for promotion on the merits of the book, and had hopes of being made a lieutenant of ten years' rank with the accompanying back pay amounting to $4,000 or $5,000.

These plans of Maury's did not fully materialize. President Jackson was of the opinion that the young author deserved promotion for his scientific work and reimbursement for the money which he had expended in its publication, but the Secretary of the Navy, Mahlon Dickerson, did not carry out the President's wishes. The book itself, however, was a great success on its appearance early in the year 1836, under the title of "A New Theoretical and Practical Treatise on Navigation". The publishers, E. C. and J. Biddle of Philadelphia, soon had the pleasure of printing a long list of favorable opinions of the work from professors and distinguished officers in the navy, among which the commendation of Nathaniel Bowditch gave Maury the greatest satisfaction. His book very quickly took the place of Bowditch's "Practical Navigator" as a textbook for junior officers in the navy, and when the Naval Academy was established at Annapolis it was used for several years as the basis of the instruction given to midshipmen in navigation. In the title page appeared the significant words, "Cur Non?" (Why not?), the motto adopted by Lafayette when he espoused the cause of the American colonies; this was in effect Maury's answer to any query

title: Page:The Pathfinder of the Seas.djvu/55


text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/355

334 who attend a public market. Tukang Pak, the farmer, the man who has bought the right to any government farm. Di pak, to farm out. Tanĕuh na gĕus di pak, the estate is farmed out.

Pakal, to caulk, as a ship or boat. To close a seam between two planks by forcing in oakum &c. (Malay idem).

Pákalongan, name of a residency in Middle Java. The place abounding in Kalongs or flying foxes.

Pakan, the woof or threads in a web which are crosswise in it, from Tépak, to strike or knock together. The Pakan is shot into the web bij means of the Tropong or shuttle. Pakan are also the cross pieces of split bambu wove into a Bilik. (Javan. idem).

Pakapuran, a lime kiln. This word has evidently been borrowed from the Malay, where Kapur is lime, whereas in Sunda it is called Apu, and according to the spirit of derivation would form Pangapuan, which is seldom heard for lime kiln.

Pakaran, implement, instrument, utensil. A weapon in general, as a gobang, kris or spear. Pakarang tinun, weaving implements; the native loom. Sia to mawa pakarang, have you got no weapon with you? (Kârang in Malay, to arrange, to combine or compose artfully).

Pakarangan, garden or grounds about a house, see Karang. The environs of a great man's dwelling.

Pakauman, a place where priests meet or assemble to pray. A mosque and its appurtenances. (From ar. قَوْم, Kaum, people).

Pakaya, subsistance, livelyhood; property. Any work or occupation by which a livelyhood is gained, as a garden, an orchard, a trade or profession.

Paké, to use, to wear, to put on. To make use of. To wear or put on clothes. Kampak ĕukĕur di paké, the axe is just being made use of. Jamang anyar gĕus di paké, the new jacket has been worn.

Pakéan, clothes, dress. Anything which a person makes use of; implements, accoutrements. Pakéan sutra, silk clothes. Parabot pakéan tukang kayu, tools made use of by a carpenter.

Pakon, orders of great personages, mandates.

Pak-prak, to make a smacking sound with the lips, by opening and shutting the mouth in rapid succession. By the sound so made cartmen stop their buffaloes, or induce them to be easy and quiet

Paksa, to force; to compel, to constrain. Sia daik di paksa ku aing, you shall be forced by me. Paksa is probaly the same as Paksha, C. 345 party influence or power, a side, a flank. As if such were brought to bear upon any one—which Paksha in its compounds countenances as—Paksa-grahanaya from a Paksha, side, grahana, seizing—Partiality, taking to one side of a cause or contest; confederating, using party influence. (Jav. Pĕksa, idem.  R. give another form tĕksa, of the same meaning. This shows, that neither pa, pĕ, nor tĕ (tĕr) belong to the root of the word,


text: Eight Harvard Poets/A Renaissance Picture


text:
The Head of Kay's

CONTENTS

 * Chapter 1. MAINLY ABOUT FENN
 * Chapter 2. AN EVENING AT KAY'S
 * Chapter 3. THE FINAL HOUSE-MATCH
 * Chapter 4. HARMONY AND DISCORD
 * Chapter 5. CAMP
 * Chapter 6. THE RAID ON THE GUARD-TENT
 * Chapter 7. A CLUE
 * Chapter 8. A NIGHT ADVENTURE—THE DETHRONEMENT OF FENN
 * Chapter 9. THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE
 * Chapter 10. FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE
 * Chapter 11. THE SENIOR DAYROOM OPENS FIRE
 * Chapter 12. KENNEDY INTERVIEWS WALTON
 * Chapter 13. THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITORY
 * Chapter 14. FENN RECEIVES A LETTER
 * Chapter 15. DOWN TOWN
 * Chapter 16. WHAT HAPPENED TO FENN
 * Chapter 17. FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF
 * Chapter 18. A VAIN QUEST
 * Chapter 19. THE GUILE OF WREN
 * Chapter 20. JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER
 * Chapter 21. IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED
 * Chapter 22. KAY'S CHANGES ITS NAME
 * Chapter 23. THE HOUSE-MATCHES
 * Chapter 24. THE SPORTS

title: The Head of Kay's


text: Talk:The Head of Kay's

title: Talk:The Head of Kay's


text: Eight Harvard Poets/The Philosopher's Garden


text:
Page:Articles of Incorporation (Kappa Kappa Psi).pdf/3

 STATE OF OKLAHOMA, __________________ COUNTY

Personally appeared before me, a Notary Public in and for said County, State above named who are personally known to me to be the same persons who executed the foregoing instrument of writing and duly acknowledged the execution of the same.

In Testimony Whereof, I have hereunto subscribed my name, and affixed my Notarial Seal this ________ day of________________________________191____

My commission expires_____________________ __________________________________________ Notary Public.

It is hereby certified that _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock _____________________________________is the owner of____________________shares of capital stock

I hereby certify that the within named Directors, or Trustees, were duly elected at a meeting held for said purpose, and at the place named, in a duly published call of the same on the____________day of__________________________________ 191____ _________________________________________ Pastor, Presiding Officer.

STATE OF OKLAHOMA, __________________ COUNTY

Personally appeared before me, __________________________________________________________________________________ _____________________and__________________________________________three of the Directors of the within Corporation, and each for himself deposes and says that the signatures of said incorporators are genuine, and that it is intended in good faith to construct, maintain and operate the railroad herein mentioned.

_________________________________________ _________________________________________ _________________________________________ Sworn to and subscribed before me this_________day of__________________________191____

My commission expires_____________________191 __________________________________________ Notary Public.


text:
The Head of Kay's/Chapter 1

"When we get licked tomorrow by half-a-dozen wickets," said Jimmy Silver, tilting his chair until the back touched the wall, "don't say I didn't warn you. If you fellows take down what I say from time to time in note-books, as you ought to do, you'll remember that I offered to give anyone odds that Kay's would out us in the final. I always said that a really hot man like Fenn was more good to a side than half-a-dozen ordinary men. He can do all the bowling and all the batting. All the fielding, too, in the slips."

Tea was just over at Blackburn's, and the bulk of the house had gone across to aration in the school buildings. The prefects, as was their custom, lingered on to finish the meal at their leisure. These after-tea conversations were quite an institution at Blackburn's. The labours of the day were over, and the time for preparation for the morrow had not yet come. It would be time to be thinking of that in another hour. Meanwhile, a little relaxation might be enjoyed. Especially so as this was the last day but two of the summer term, and all necessity for working after tea had ceased with the arrival of the last lap of the examinations.

Silver was head of the house, and captain of its cricket team, which was nearing the end of its last match, the final for the inter-house cup, and—on paper—getting decidedly the worst of it. After riding in triumph over the School House, Bedell's, and Mulholland's, Blackburn's had met its next door neighbour, Kay's, in the final, and, to the surprise of the great majority of the school, was showing up badly. The match was affording one more example of how a team of average merit all through may sometimes fall before a one-man side. Blackburn's had the three last men on the list of the first eleven, Silver, Kennedy, and Challis, and at least nine of its representatives had the reputation of being able to knock up a useful twenty or thirty at any time. Kay's, on the other hand, had one man, Fenn. After him the tail started. But Fenn was such an exceptional all-round man that, as Silver had said, he was as good as half-a-dozen of the Blackburn's team, equally formidable whether batting or bowling—he headed the school averages at both. He was one of those batsmen who seem to know exactly what sort of ball you are going to bowl before it leaves your hand, and he could hit like another Jessop. As for his bowling, he bowled left hand—always a puzzling eccentricity to an undeveloped batsman—and could send them down very fast or very slow, as he thought best, and it was hard to see which particular brand he was going to serve up before it was actually in mid-air.

But it is not necessary to enlarge on his abilities. The figures against his name in  prove a good deal. The fact that he had steered Kay's through into the last round of the house-matches proves still more. It was perfectly obvious to everyone that, if only you could get Fenn out for under ten, Kay's total for that innings would be nearer twenty than forty. They were an appalling side. But then no house bowler had as yet succeeded in getting Fenn out for under ten. In the six innings he had played in the competition up to date, he had made four centuries, an eighty, and a seventy.

Kennedy, the second prefect at Blackburn's, paused in the act of grappling with the remnant of a pot of jam belonging to some person unknown, to reply to Silver's remarks.

"We aren't beaten yet," he said, in his solid way. Kennedy's chief characteristics were solidity, and an infinite capacity for taking pains. Nothing seemed to tire or discourage him. He kept pegging away till he arrived. The ordinary person, for instance, would have considered the jam-pot, on which he was then engaged, an empty jam-pot. Kennedy saw that there was still a strawberry (or it may have been a section of a strawberry) at the extreme end, and he meant to have that coy vegetable if he had to squeeze the pot to get at it. To take another instance, all the afternoon of the previous day he had bowled patiently at Fenn while the latter lifted every other ball into space. He had been taken off three times, and at every fresh attack he had plodded on doggedly, until at last, as he had expected, the batsman had misjudged a straight one, and he had bowled him all over his wicket. Kennedy generally managed to get there sooner or later.

"It's no good chucking the game up simply because we're in a tight place," he said, bringing the spoon to the surface at last with the section of strawberry adhering to the end of it. "That sort of thing's awfully feeble."

"He calls me feeble!" shouted Jimmy Silver. "By James, I've put a man to sleep for less."

It was one of his amusements to express himself from time to time in a melodramatic fashion, sometimes accompanying his words with suitable gestures. It was on one of these occasions—when he had assumed at a moment's notice the role of the "Baffled Despot", in an argument with Kennedy in his study on the subject of the house football team—that he broke what Mr Blackburn considered a valuable door with a poker. Since then he had moderated his transports.

"They've got to make seventy-nine," said Kennedy.

Challis, the other first eleven man, was reading a green scoring-book.

"I don't think Kay's ought to have the face to stick the cup up in their dining-room," he said, "considering the little they've done to win it. If they do win it, that is. Still, as they made two hundred first innings, they ought to be able to knock off seventy-nine. But I was saying that the pot ought to go to Fenn. Lot the rest of the team had to do with it. Blackburn's, first innings, hundred and fifty-one; Fenn, eight for forty-nine. Kay's, two hundred and one; Fenn, a hundred and sixty-four not out. Second innings, Blackburn's hundred and twenty-eight; Fenn ten for eighty. Bit thick, isn't it? I suppose that's what you'd call a one-man team."

Williams, one of the other prefects, who had just sat down at the piano for the purpose of playing his one tune—a, of which, through constant practice, he had mastered the rudiments—spoke over his shoulder to Silver.

"I tell you what, Jimmy," he said, "you've probably lost us the pot by getting your people to send brother Billy to Kay's. If he hadn't kept up his wicket yesterday, Fenn wouldn't have made half as many."

When his young brother had been sent to Eckleton two terms before, Jimmy Silver had strongly urged upon his father the necessity of placing him in some house other than Blackburn's. He felt that a head of a house, even of so orderly and perfect a house as Blackburn's, has enough worries without being saddled with a small brother. And on the previous afternoon young Billy Silver, going in eighth wicket for Kay's, had put a solid bat in front of everything for the space of one hour, in the course of which he made ten runs and Fenn sixty. By scoring odd numbers off the last ball of each over, Fenn had managed to secure the majority of the bowling in the most masterly way.

"These things will happen," said Silver, resignedly. "We Silvers, you know, can't help making runs. Come on, Williams, let's have that tune, and get it over."

Williams obliged. It was a classic piece called "The Coon Band Contest", remarkable partly for a taking melody, partly for the vast possibilities of noise which it afforded. Williams made up for his failure to do justice to the former by a keen appreciation of the latter. He played the piece through again, in order to correct the mistakes he had made at his first rendering of it. Then he played it for the third time to correct a new batch of errors.

"I should like to hear Fenn play that," said Challis. "You're awfully good, you know, Williams, but he might do it better still."

"Get him to play it as an encore at the concert," said Williams, starting for the fourth time.

The talented Fenn was also a musician,—not a genius at the piano, as he was at cricket, but a sufficiently sound performer for his age, considering that he had not made a special study of it. He was to play at the school concert on the following day.

"I believe Fenn has an awful time at Kay's," said Jimmy Silver. "It must be a fair sort of hole, judging from the specimens you see crawling about in Kay caps. I wish I'd known my people were sending young Billy there. I'd have warned them. I only told them not to sling him in here. I had no idea they'd have picked Kay's."

"Fenn was telling me the other day," said Kennedy, "that being in Kay's had spoiled his whole time at the school. He always wanted to come to Blackburn's, only there wasn't room that particular term. Bad luck, wasn't it? I don't think he found it so bad before he became head of the house. He didn't come into contact with Kay so much. But now he finds that he can't do a thing without Kay buzzing round and interfering."

"I wonder," said Jimmy Silver, thoughtfully, "if that's why he bowls so fast. To work it off, you know."

In the course of a beautiful innings of fifty-three that afternoon, the captain of Blackburn's had received two of Fenn's speediest on the same spot just above the pad in rapid succession, and he now hobbled painfully when he moved about.

The conversation that evening had dealt so largely with Fenn—the whole school, indeed, was talking of nothing but his great attempt to win the cricket cup single-handed—that Kennedy, going out into the road for a breather before the rest of the boarders returned from preparation, made his way to Kay's to see if Fenn was imitating his example, and taking the air too.

He found him at Kay's gate, and they strolled towards the school buildings together. Fenn was unusually silent.

"Well?" said Kennedy, after a minute had passed without a remark.

"Well, what?"

"What's up?"

Fenn laughed what novelists are fond of calling a mirthless laugh.

"Oh, I don't know," he said; "I'm sick of this place."

Kennedy inspected his friend's face anxiously by the light of the lamp over the school gate. There was no mistake about it. Fenn certainly did look bad. His face always looked lean and craggy, but tonight there was a difference. He looked used up.

"Fagged?" asked Kennedy.

"No. Sick."

"What about?"

"Everything. I wish you could come into Kay's for a bit just to see what it's like. Then you'd understand. At present I don't suppose you've an idea of it. I'd like to write a book on 'Kay Day by Day'. I'd have plenty to put in it."

"What's he been doing?"

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary run. It's the fact that he's always at it that does me. You get a houseful of—well, you know the sort of chap the average Kayite is. They'd keep me busy even if I were allowed a free hand. But I'm not. Whenever I try and keep order and stop things a bit, out springs the man Kay from nowhere, and takes the job out of my hands, makes a ghastly mess of everything, and retires purring. Once in every three times, or thereabouts, he slangs me in front of the kids for not keeping order. I'm glad this is the end of the term. I couldn't stand it much longer. Hullo, here come the chaps from prep. We'd better be getting back."

title: The Head of Kay's/Chapter 1


text:
The Head of Kay's/Chapter 2

They turned, and began to walk towards the houses. Kennedy felt miserable. He never allowed himself to be put out, to any great extent, by his own worries, which, indeed, had not been very numerous up to the present, but the misfortunes of his friends always troubled him exceedingly. When anything happened to him personally, he found the discomfort of being in a tight place largely counterbalanced by the excitement of trying to find a way out. But the impossibility of helping Fenn in any way depressed him.

"It must be awful," he said, breaking the silence.

"It is," said Fenn, briefly.

"But haven't the house-matches made any difference? Blackburn's always frightfully bucked when the house does anything. You can do anything you like with him if you lift a cup. I should have thought Kay would have been all right when he saw you knocking up centuries, and getting into the final, and all that sort of thing."

Fenn laughed.

"Kay!" he said. "My dear man, he doesn't know. I don't suppose he's got the remotest idea that we are in the final at all, or, if he has, he doesn't understand what being in the final means."

"But surely he'll be glad if you lick us tomorrow?" asked Kennedy. Such indifference on the part of a house-master respecting the fortunes of his house seemed to him, having before him the bright example of Mr Blackburn almost incredible.

"I don't suppose so," said Fenn. "Or, if he is, I'll bet he doesn't show it. He's not like Blackburn. I wish he was. Here he comes, so perhaps we'd better talk about something else."

The vanguard of the boys returning from preparation had passed them, and they were now standing at the gate of the house. As Fenn spoke, a little, restless-looking man in cap and gown came up. His clean-shaven face wore an expression of extreme alertness—the sort of look a ferret wears as he slips in at the mouth of a rabbit-hole. A doctor, called upon to sum up Mr Kay at a glance, would probably have said that he suffered from nerves, which would have been a perfectly correct diagnosis, though none of the members of his house put his manners and customs down to that cause. They considered that the methods he pursued in the management of the house were the outcome of a naturally malignant disposition. This was, however, not the case. There is no reason to suppose that Mr Kay did not mean well. But there is no doubt that he was extremely fussy. And fussiness—with the possible exceptions of homicidal mania and a taste for arson—is quite the worst characteristic it is possible for a house-master to possess.

He caught sight of Fenn and Kennedy at the gate, and stopped in his stride.

"What are you doing here, Fenn?" he asked, with an abruptness which brought a flush to the latter's face. "Why are you outside the house?"

Kennedy began to understand why it was that his friend felt so strongly on the subject of his house-master. If this was the sort of thing that happened every day, no wonder that there was dissension in the house of Kay. He tried to imagine Blackburn speaking in that way to Jimmy Silver or himself, but his imagination was unequal to the task. Between Mr Blackburn and his prefects there existed a perfect understanding. He relied on them to see that order was kept, and they acted accordingly. Fenn, by the exercise of considerable self-control, had always been scrupulously polite to Mr Kay.

"I came out to get some fresh air before lock-up, sir," he replied.

"Well, go in. Go in at once. I cannot allow you to be outside the house at this hour. Go indoors directly."

Kennedy expected a scene, but Fenn took it quite quietly.

"Good night, Kennedy," he said.

"So long," said Kennedy.

Fenn caught his eye, and smiled painfully. Then he turned and went into the house.

Mr Kay's zeal for reform was apparently still unsatisfied. He directed his batteries towards Kennedy.

"Go to your house at once, Kennedy. You have no business out here at this time."

This, thought Kennedy, was getting a bit too warm. Mr Kay might do as he pleased with his own house, but he was hanged if he was going to trample on him.

"Mr Blackburn is my house-master, sir," he said with great respect.

Mr Kay stared.

"My house-master," continued Kennedy with gusto, slightly emphasising the first word, "knows that I always go out just before lock-up, and he has no objection."

And, to emphasise this point, he walked towards the school buildings again. For a moment it seemed as if Mr Kay intended to call him back, but he thought better of it. Mr Blackburn, in normal circumstances a pacific man, had one touchy point—his house. He resented any interference with its management, and was in the habit of saying so. Mr Kay remembered one painful scene in the Masters' Common Room, when he had ventured to let fall a few well-meant hints as to how a house should be ruled. Really, he had thought Blackburn would have choked. Better, perhaps, to leave him to look after his own affairs.

So Mr Kay followed Fenn indoors, and Kennedy, having watched him vanish, made his way to Blackburn's.

Quietly as Fenn had taken the incident at the gate, it nevertheless rankled. He read prayers that night in a distinctly unprayerful mood. It seemed to him that it would be lucky if he could get through to the end of the term before Mr Kay applied that last straw which does not break the backs of camels only. Eight weeks' holiday, with plenty of cricket, would brace him up for another term. And he had been invited to play for the county against Middlesex four days after the holidays began. That should have been a soothing thought. But it really seemed to make matters worse. It was hard that a man who on Monday would be bowling against Warner and Beldam, or standing up to Trott and Hearne, should on the preceding Tuesday be sent indoors like a naughty child by a man who stood five-feet-one in his boots, and was devoid of any sort of merit whatever.

It seemed to him that it would help him to sleep peacefully that night if he worked off a little of his just indignation upon somebody. There was a noise going on in the fags' room. There always was at Kay's. It was not a particularly noisy noise—considering; but it had better be stopped. Badly as Kay had treated him, he remembered that he was head of the house, and as such it behoved him to keep order in the house.

He went downstairs, and, on arriving on the scene of action, found that the fags were engaged upon spirited festivities, partly in honour of the near approach of the summer holidays, partly because—miracles barred—the house was going on the morrow to lift the cricket-cup. There were a good many books flying about, and not a few slippers. There was a confused mass rolling in combat on the floor, and the table was occupied by a scarlet-faced individual, who passed the time by kicking violently at certain hands, which were endeavouring to drag him from his post, and shrieking frenzied abuse at the owners of the said hands. It was an animated scene, and to a deaf man might have been most enjoyable.

Fenn's appearance was the signal for a temporary suspension of hostilities.

"What the dickens is all this row about?" he inquired.

No one seemed ready at the moment with a concise explanation. There was an awkward silence. One or two of the weaker spirits even went so far as to sit down and begin to read. All would have been well but for a bright idea which struck some undiscovered youth at the back of the room.

"Three cheers for Fenn!" observed this genial spirit, in no uncertain voice.

The idea caught on. It was just what was wanted to give a finish to the evening's festivities. Fenn had done well by the house. He had scored four centuries and an eighty, and was going to knock off the runs against Blackburn's tomorrow off his own bat. Also, he had taken eighteen wickets in the final house-match. Obviously Fenn was a person deserving of all encouragement. It would be a pity to let him think that his effort had passed unnoticed by the fags' room. Happy thought! Three cheers and one more, and then "He's a jolly good fellow", to wind up with.

It was while those familiar words, "It's a way we have in the public scho-o-o-o-l-s", were echoing through the room in various keys, that a small and energetic form brushed past Fenn as he stood in the doorway, vainly trying to stop the fags' choral efforts.

It was Mr Kay.

The singing ceased gradually, very gradually. It was some time before Mr Kay could make himself heard. But after a couple of minutes there was a lull, and the house-master's address began to be audible.

"… unendurable noise. What is the meaning of it? I will not have it. Do you hear? It is disgraceful. Every boy in this room will write me two hundred lines by tomorrow evening. It is abominable, Fenn." He wheeled round towards the head of the house. "Fenn, I am surprised at you standing here and allowing such a disgraceful disturbance to go on. Really, if you cannot keep order better—It is disgraceful, disgraceful."

Mr Kay shot out of the room. Fenn followed in his wake, and the procession made its way to the house-masters' study. It had been a near thing, but the last straw had arrived before the holidays.

Mr Kay wheeled round as he reached his study door.

"Well, Fenn?"

Fenn said nothing.

"Have you anything you wish to say, Fenn?"

"I thought you might have something to say to me, sir."

"I do not understand you, Fenn."

"I thought you might wish to apologise for slanging me in front of the fags."

It is wonderful what a difference the last straw will make in one's demeanour to a person.

"Apologise! I think you forget whom it is you are speaking to."

When a master makes this well-worn remark, the wise youth realises that the time has come to close the conversation. All Fenn's prudence, however, had gone to the four winds.

"If you wanted to tell me I was not fit to be head of the house, you needn't have done it before a roomful of fags. How do you think I can keep order in the house if you do that sort of thing?"

Mr Kay overcame his impulse to end the interview abruptly in order to put in a thrust.

"You do not keep order in the house, Fenn," he said, acidly.

"I do when I am not interfered with."

"You will be good enough to say 'sir' when you speak to me, Fenn," said Mr Kay, thereby scoring another point. In the stress of the moment, Fenn had not noticed the omission.

He was silenced. And before he could recover himself, Mr Kay was in his study, and there was a closed, forbidding door between them.

And as he stared at it, it began slowly to dawn upon Fenn that he had not shown up to advantage in the recent interview. In a word, he had made a fool of himself.

title: The Head of Kay's/Chapter 2


text:
The Head of Kay's/Chapter 3

Blackburn's took the field at three punctually on the following afternoon, to play out the last act of the final house-match. They were not without some small hope of victory, for curious things happen at cricket, especially in the fourth innings of a match. And runs are admitted to be easier saved than made. Yet seventy-nine seemed an absurdly small score to try and dismiss a team for, and in view of the fact that that team contained a batsman like Fenn, it seemed smaller still. But Jimmy Silver, resolutely as he had declared victory impossible to his intimate friends, was not the man to depress his team by letting it become generally known that he considered Blackburn's chances small.

"You must work like s in the field," he said; "don't give away a run. Seventy-nine isn't much to make, but if we get Fenn out for a few, they won't come near it."

He did not add that in his opinion Fenn would take very good care that he did not get out for a few. It was far more likely that he would make that seventy-nine off his own bat in a dozen overs.

"You'd better begin, Kennedy," he continued, "from the top end. Place your men where you want 'em. I should have an extra man in the deep, if I were you. That's where Fenn kept putting them last innings. And you'll want a short leg, only for goodness sake keep them off the leg-side if you can. It's a safe four to Fenn every time if you don't. Look out, you chaps. Man in."

Kay's first pair were coming down the pavilion steps.

Challis, going to his place at short slip, called Silver's attention to a remarkable fact.

"Hullo," he said, "why isn't Fenn coming in first?"

"What! By Jove, nor he is. That's queer. All the better for us. You might get a bit finer, Challis, in case they snick 'em."

Wayburn, who had accompanied Fenn to the wicket at the beginning of Kay's first innings, had now for his partner one Walton, a large, unpleasant-looking youth, said to be a bit of a bruiser, and known to be a. He was one of those who made life at Kay's so close an imitation of an Inferno. His cricket was of a rustic order. He hit hard and high. When allowed to do so, he hit often. But, as a rule, he left early, a prey to the slips or deep fields. Today was no exception to that rule.

Kennedy's first ball was straight and medium-paced. It was a little too short, however, and Walton, letting go at it with a semi-circular sweep like the drive of a golfer, sent it soaring over mid-on's head and over the boundary. Cheers from the pavilion.

Kennedy bowled his second ball with the same purposeful air, and Walton swept at it as before. There was a click, and Jimmy Silver, who was keeping wicket, took the ball comfortably on a level with his chin.

"How's that?"

The umpire's hand went up, and Walton went out—reluctantly, murmuring legends of how he had not gone within a yard of the thing.

It was only when the next batsman who emerged from the pavilion turned out to be his young brother and not Fenn, that Silver began to see that something was wrong. It was conceivable that Fenn might have chosen to go in first wicket down instead of opening the batting, but not that he should go in second wicket. If Kay's were to win it was essential that he should begin to bat as soon as possible. Otherwise there might be no time for him to knock off the runs. However good a batsman is, he can do little if no one can stay with him.

There was no time to question the newcomer. He must control his curiosity until the fall of the next wicket.

"Man in," he said.

Billy Silver was in many ways a miniature edition of his brother, and he carried the resemblance into his batting. The head of Blackburn's was stylish, and took no risks. His brother had not yet developed a style, but he was very settled in his mind on the subject of risks. There was no tempting him with half-volleys and long-hops. His motto was defence, not defiance. He placed a straight bat in the path of every ball, and seemed to consider his duty done if he stopped it.

The remainder of the over was, therefore, quiet. Billy played Kennedy's fastest like a book, and left the more tempting ones alone.

Challis's first over realised a single, Wayburn snicking him to leg. The first ball of Kennedy's second over saw him caught at the wicket, as Walton had been.

"Every time a coconut," said Jimmy Silver complacently, as he walked to the other end. "We're a powerful combination, Kennedy. Where's Fenn? Does anybody know? Why doesn't he come in?"

Billy Silver, seated on the grass by the side of the crease, fastening the top strap of one of his pads, gave tongue with the eagerness of the well-informed man.

"What, don't you know?" he said. "Why, there's been an awful row. Fenn won't be able to play till four o'clock. I believe he and Kay had a row last night, and he cheeked Kay, and the old man's given him a sort of extra. I saw him going over to the School House, and I heard him tell Wayburn that he wouldn't be able to play till four."

The effect produced by this communication would be most fittingly expressed by the word "sensation" in brackets. It came as a complete surprise to everyone. It seemed to knock the bottom out of the whole match. Without Fenn the thing would be a farce. Kay's would have no chance.

"What a worm that man is," said Kennedy. "Do you know, I had a sort of idea Fenn wouldn't last out much longer. Kay's been ragging him all the term. I went round to see him last night, and Kay behaved like a bounder then. I expect Fenn had it out with him when they got indoors. What a beastly shame, though."

"Beastly," agreed Jimmy Silver. "Still, it can't be helped. The sins of the house-master are visited on the house. I'm afraid it will be our painful duty to wipe the floor with Kay's this day. Speaking at a venture, I should say that we have got them where the hair's short. Yea. Even on toast, if I may be allowed to use the expression. Who is this coming forth now? Curtis, or me old eyes deceive me. And is not Curtis's record score three, marred by ten chances? Indeed yes. A fastish yorker should settle Curtis's young hash. Try one."

Kennedy followed the recipe. A ball later the middle and leg stumps were lying in picturesque attitudes some yards behind the crease, and Curtis was beginning that "sad, unending walk to the pavilion", thinking, with the poet,

"Thou wast not made to play, infernal ball!"

Blackburn's non-combatants, dotted round the boundary, shrieked their applause. Three wickets had fallen for five runs, and life was worth living. Kay's were silent and gloomy.

Billy Silver continued to occupy one end in an immovable manner, but at the other there was no monotony. Man after man came in, padded and gloved, and looking capable of mighty things. They took guard, patted the ground lustily, as if to make it plain that they were going to stand no nonsense, settled their caps over their eyes, and prepared to receive the ball. When it came it usually took a stump or two with it before it stopped. It was a procession such as the school grounds had not often seen. As the tenth man walked from the pavilion, four sounded from the clock over the Great Hall, and five minutes later the weary eyes of the supporters of Kay's were refreshed by the sight of Fenn making his way to the arena from the direction of the School House.

Just as he arrived on the scene, Billy Silver's defence broke down. One of Challis's slows, which he had left alone with the idea that it was going to break away to the off, came in quickly instead, and removed a bail. Billy Silver had only made eight; but, as the full score, including one bye, was only eighteen, this was above the average, and deserved the applause it received.

Fenn came in in the unusual position of eleventh man, with an expression on his face that seemed to suggest that he meant business. He was curiously garbed. Owing to the shortness of the interval allowed him for changing, he had only managed to extend his cricket costume as far as white buckskin boots. He wore no pads or gloves. But even in the face of these sartorial deficiencies, he looked like a cricketer. The field spread out respectfully, and Jimmy Silver moved a man from the slips into the country.

There were three more balls of Challis's over, for Billy Silver's collapse had occurred at the third delivery. Fenn mistimed the first. Two hours' writing indoors does not improve the eye. The ball missed the leg stump by an inch.

About the fifth ball he made no mistake. He got the full face of the bat to it, and it hummed past coverpoint to the boundary. The last of the over he put to leg for three.

A remarkable last-wicket partnership now took place, remarkable not so much for tall scoring as for the fact that one of the partners did not receive a single ball from beginning to end of it, with the exception of the one that bowled him. Fenn seemed to be able to do what he pleased with the bowling. Kennedy he played with a shade more respect than the others, but he never failed to score a three or a single off the last ball of each of his overs. The figures on the telegraph-board rose from twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty, from forty to fifty. Williams went on at the lower end instead of Challis, and Fenn made twelve off his first over. The pavilion was filled with howling enthusiasts, who cheered every hit in a frenzy.

Jimmy Silver began to look worried. He held a hasty consultation with Kennedy. The telegraph-board now showed the figures 60—9—8.

"This won't do," said Silver. "It would be too foul to get licked after having nine of them out for eighteen. Can't you manage to keep Fenn from scoring odd figures off the last ball of your over? If only that kid at the other end would get some of the bowling, we should do it."

"I'll try," said Kennedy, and walked back to begin his over.

Fenn reached his fifty off the third ball. Seventy went up on the board. Ten more and Kay's would have the cup. The fourth ball was too good to hit. Fenn let it pass. The fifth he drove to the on. It was a big hit, but there was a fieldsman in the neighbourhood. Still, it was an easy two. But to Kennedy's surprise Fenn sent his partner back after they had run a single. Even the umpire was surprised. Fenn's policy was so obvious that it was strange to see him thus deliberately allow his partner to take a ball.

"That's not over, you know, Fenn," said the umpire—Lang, of the School House, a member of the first eleven.

Fenn looked annoyed. He had miscounted the balls, and now his partner, who had no pretensions to be considered a bat, would have to face Kennedy.

That mistake lost Kay's the match.

Impossible as he had found it to defeat Fenn, Kennedy had never lost his head or his length. He was bowling fully as well as he had done at the beginning of the innings.

The last ball of the over beat the batsman all the way. He scooped blindly forward, missed it by a foot, and the next moment the off stump lay flat. Blackburn's had won by seven runs.

title: The Head of Kay's/Chapter 3


text: Eight Harvard Poets/The Tree of Stars

title: Eight Harvard Poets/The Tree of Stars


text: Eight Harvard Poets/After Rain

title: Eight Harvard Poets/After Rain


text:
The Head of Kay's/Chapter 4

What might be described as a mixed reception awaited the players as they left the field. The pavilion and the parts about the pavilion rails were always packed on the last day of a final house-match, and even in normal circumstances there was apt to be a little sparring between the juniors of the two houses which had been playing for the cup. In the present case, therefore, it was not surprising that Kay's fags took the defeat badly. The thought that Fenn's presence at the beginning of the innings, instead of at the end, would have made all the difference between a loss and a victory, maddened them. The crowd that seethed in front of the pavilion was a turbulent one.

For a time the operation of chairing Fenn up the steps occupied the active minds of the Kayites. When he had disappeared into the first eleven room, they turned their attention in other directions. Caustic and uncomplimentary remarks began to fly to and fro between the representatives of Kay's and Blackburn's. It is not known who actually administered the first blow. But, when Fenn came out of the pavilion with Kennedy and Silver, he found a stirring battle in progress. The members of the other houses who had come to look on at the match stood in knots, and gazed with approval at the efforts of Kay's and Blackburn's juniors to wipe each other off the face of the earth. The air was full of shrill battle-cries, varied now and then by a smack or a thud, as some young but strenuous fist found a billet. The fortune of war seemed to be distributed equally so far, and the combatants were just warming to their work.

"Look here," said Kennedy, "we ought to stop this."

"What's the good," said Fenn, without interest. "It pleases them, and doesn't hurt anybody else."

"All the same," observed Jimmy Silver, moving towards the nearest group of combatants, "free fights aren't quite the thing, somehow. For, children, you should never let your angry passions rise; your little hands were never made to tear each other's eyes. Dr Watts' Advice to Young Pugilists. Drop it, you little beasts."

He separated two heated youths who were just beginning a fourth round. The rest of the warriors, seeing Silver and the others, called a truce, and Silver, having read a sort of Riot Act, moved on. The juniors of the beaten house, deciding that it would be better not to resume hostilities, consoled themselves by giving three groans for Mr Kay.

"What happened after I left you last night, Fenn?" asked Kennedy.

"Oh, I had one of my usual rows with Kay, only rather worse than usual. I said one or two things he didn't like, and today the old man sent for me and told me to come to his room from two till four. Kay had run me in for being 'grossly rude'. Listen to those kids. What a row they're making!"

"It's a beastly shame," said Kennedy despondently.

At the school shop Morrell, of Mulholland's, met them. He had been spending the afternoon with a rug and a novel on the hills at the back of the school, and he wanted to know how the final house-match had gone. Blackburn's had beaten Mulholland's in one of the early rounds. Kennedy explained what had happened.

"We should have lost if Fenn had turned up earlier," he said. "He had a row with Kay, and Kay gave him a sort of extra between two and four."

Fenn, busily occupied with an ice, added no comment of his own to this plain tale.

"Rough luck," said Morrell. "What's all that row out in the field?"

"That's Kay's kids giving three groans for Kay," explained Silver. "At least, they started with the idea of giving three groans. They've got up to about three hundred by this time. It seems to have fascinated them. They won't leave off. There's no school rule against groaning in the grounds, and they mean to groan till the end of the term. Personally, I like the sound. But then, I'm fond of music."

Morrell's face beamed with sudden pleasure. "I knew there was something I wanted to tell you," he said, "only I couldn't remember what. Your saying you're fond of music reminds me. Mulholland's crocked himself, and won't be able to turn out for the concert."

"What!" cried Kennedy. "How did it happen? What's he done?"

Mr Mulholland was the master who looked after the music of the school, a fine cricketer and keen sportsman. Had nothing gone wrong, he would have conducted at the concert that night.

"I heard it from the matron at our place," said Morrell. "She's full of it. Mulholland was batting at the middle net, and somebody else—I forget who—was at the one next to it on the right. The bowler sent down a long-hop to leg, and this Johnny had a smack at it, and sent it slap through the net, and it got Mulholland on the side of the head. He was stunned for a bit, but he's getting all right again now. But he won't be able to conduct tonight. Rather bad luck on the man, especially as he's so keen on the concert."

"Who's going to sub for him?" asked Silver. "Perhaps they'll scratch the show," suggested Kennedy.

"Oh, no," said Morrell, "it's all right. Kay is going to conduct. He's often done it at choir practices when Mulholland couldn't turn up."

Fenn put down his empty saucer with an emphatic crack on the counter.

"If Kay's going to run the show, I'm hanged if I turn up," he said.

"My dear chap, you can't get out of it now," said Kennedy anxiously. He did not want to see Fenn plunging into any more strife with the authorities this term.

"Think of the crowned heads who are coming to hear you," pleaded Jimmy Silver. "Think of the nobility and gentry. Think of me. You must play."

"Ah, there you are, Fenn."

Mr Kay had bustled in in his energetic way.

Fenn said nothing. He was there. It was idle to deny it.

"I thought I should find you here. Yes, I wanted to see you about the concert tonight. Mr Mulholland has met with an unfortunate accident, and I am looking after the entertainment in his place. Come with me and play over your piece. I should like to see that you are perfect in it. Dear me, dear me, what a noise those boys are making. Why are they behaving in that extraordinary way, I wonder!"

Kay's juniors had left the pavilion, and were trooping back to their house. At the present moment they were passing the school shop, and their tuneful voices floated in through the open window.

"This is very unusual. Why, they seem to be boys in my house. They are groaning."

"I think they are a little upset at the result of the match, sir," said Jimmy Silver suavely. "Fenn did not arrive, for some reason, till the end of the innings, so Mr Blackburn's won. The wicket was good, but a little fiery."

"Thank you, Silver," replied Mr Kay with asperity. "When I require explanations I will ask for them."

He darted out of the shop, and a moment later they heard him pouring out a flood of recriminations on the groaning fags.

"There was once a man who snubbed me," said Jimmy Silver. "They buried him at Brookwood. Well, what are you going to do, Fenn? Going to play tonight? Harkee, boy. Say but the word, and I will beard this tyrant to his face."

Fenn rose.

"Yes," he said briefly, "I shall play. You'd better turn up. I think you'll enjoy it."

Silver said that no human power should keep him away.

The School concert was always one of the events of the summer term. There was a concert at the end of the winter term, too, but it was not so important. To a great many of those present the summer concert marked, as it were, the last flutter of their school life. On the morrow they would be Old Boys, and it behoved them to extract as much enjoyment from the function as they could. Under Mr Mullholland's rule the concert had become a very flourishing institution. He aimed at a high standard, and reached it. There was more than a touch of the austere about the music. A glance at the programme was enough to show the lover of airs of the trashy, clashy order that this was no place for him. Most of the items were serious. When it was thought necessary to introduce a lighter touch, some staidly rollicking number was inserted, some song that was saved—in spite of a catchy tune—by a halo of antiquity. Anything modern was taboo, unless it were the work of Gotsuchakoff, Thingummyowsky, or some other eminent foreigner. Foreign origin made it just possible.

The school prefects lurked during the performance at the doors and at the foot of the broad stone steps that led to the Great Hall. It was their duty to supply visitors with programmes.

Jimmy Silver had foregathered with Kennedy, Challis, and Williams at the junior door. The hall was full now, and their labours consequently at an end.

"Pretty good 'gate'," said Silver, looking in through the open door. "It must be warm up in the gallery."

Across the further end of the hall a dais had been erected. On this the bulk of the school sat, leaving the body of the hall to the crowned heads, nobility, and gentry to whom Silver had referred in his conversation with Fenn.

"It always is warm in the gallery," said Challis. "I lost about two stone there every concert when I was a kid. We simply used to sit and melt."

"And I tell you what," broke in Silver, "it's going to get warmer before the end of the show. Do you notice that all Kay's house are sitting in a lump at the back. I bet they're simply spoiling for a row. Especially now Kay's running the concert. There's going to be a hot time in the old town tonight—you see if there isn't. Hark at 'em."

The choir had just come to the end of a little thing of Handel's. There was no reason to suppose that the gallery appreciated Handel. Nevertheless, they were making a deafening noise. Clouds of dust rose from the rhythmical stamping of many feet. The noise was loudest and the dust thickest by the big window, beneath which sat the men from Kay's. Things were warming up.

The gallery, with one last stamp which nearly caused the dais to collapse, quieted down. The masters in the audience looked serious. One or two of the visitors glanced over their shoulders with a smile. How excited the dear boys were at the prospect of holidays! Young blood! Young blood! Boys would be boys.

The concert continued. Half-way through the programme there was a ten minutes' interval. Fenn's pianoforte solo was the second item of the second half.

He mounted the platform amidst howls of delight from the gallery. Applause at the Eckleton concerts was granted more for services in the playing-fields than merit as a musician. Kubelik or Paderewski would have been welcomed with a few polite handclaps. A man in the eleven or fifteen was certain of two minutes' unceasing cheers.

"Evidently one of their heroes, my dear," said Paterfamilias to Materfamilias. "I suppose he has won a scholarship at the University."

Paterfamilias' mind was accustomed to run somewhat upon scholarships at the University. What the school wanted was a batting average of forty odd or a bowling analysis in single figures.

Fenn played the "Moonlight Sonata". A trained musical critic would probably have found much to cavil at in his rendering of the piece, but it was undoubtedly good for a public school player. Of course he was encored. The gallery would have encored him if he had played with one finger, three mistakes to every bar.

"I told Fenn," said Jimmy Silver, "if he got an encore, that he ought to play the—My aunt! He is!"

Three runs and half-a-dozen crashes, and there was no further room for doubt. Fenn was playing the "Coon Band Contest".

"He's gone mad," gasped Kennedy.

Whether he had or not, it is certain that the gallery had. All the evening they had been stewing in an atmosphere like that of the inner room of a Turkish bath, and they were ready for anything. It needed but a trifle to set them off. The lilt of that unspeakable Yankee melody supplied that trifle. Kay's malcontents, huddled in their seats by the window, were the first to break out. Feet began to stamp in time to the music—softly at first, then more loudly. The wooden dais gave out the sound like a drum.

Other rioters joined in from the right. The noise spread through the gallery as a fire spreads through gorse. Soon three hundred pairs of well-shod feet were rising and falling. Somebody began to whistle. Everybody whistled. Mr Kay was on his feet, gesticulating wildly. His words were lost in the uproar.

For five minutes the din prevailed. Then, with a final crash, Fenn finished. He got up from the music-stool, bowed, and walked back to his place by the senior door. The musical efforts of the gallery changed to a storm of cheering and clapping.

The choir rose to begin the next piece.

Still the noise continued.

People began to leave the Hall—in ones and twos first, then in a steady stream which blocked the doorways. It was plain to the dullest intelligence that if there was going to be any more concert, it would have to be performed in dumb show. Mr Kay flung down his baton.

The visitors had left by now, and the gallery was beginning to follow their example, howling as it went.

"Well," said Jimmy Silver cheerfully, as he went with Kennedy down the steps, "I think we may call that a record. By my, there'll be a row about this later on."

title: The Head of Kay's/Chapter 4