text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/107

Rh and interests at home that one would miss. Besides, you feel somebody in your own countryside, and you’re nothing in a foreign part, I expect.”

“But you’re going?”

“What is there to stop here for? The valley is all running wild and unprofitable. You’ve no freedom for thinking of what the other folks think of you, and everything round you keeps the same, and so you can’t change yourself—because everything you look at brings up the same old feeling, and stops you from feeling fresh things. And what is there that’s worth anything?—What’s worth having in my life?”

“I thought,” said I, “your comfort was worth having.”

He sat still and did not answer.

“What’s shaken you out of your nest?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve not felt the same since that row with Annable. And Lettie said to me: ‘Here, you can’t live as you like—in any way or circumstance. You’re like a bit out of those coloured marble mosaics in the hall, you have to fit in your own set, fit into your own pattern, because you’re put there from the first. But you don’t want to be like a fixed bit of a mosaic—you want to fuse into life, and melt and mix with the rest of folk, to have some things burned out of you——’ She was downright serious.”

“Well, you need not believe her. When did you see her?”

“She came down on Wednesday, when I was getting the apples in the morning. She climbed a tree with me, and there was a wind, that was why I was


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herius Asinius

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


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/108

100 getting all the apples, and it rocked us, me right up at the top, she sitting half way down holding the basket. I asked her didn’t she think that free kind of life was the best, and that was how she answered me.”

“You should have contradicted her.”

“It seemed true. I never thought of it being wrong, in fact.”

“Come—that sounds bad.”

“No—I thought she looked down on us—on our way of life. I thought she meant I was like a toad in a hole.”

“You should have sho^vn her different.”

“How could I when I could see no different?”

“It strikes me you’re in love.”

He laughed at the idea, saying, “No, but it is rotten to find that there isn’t a single thing you have to be proud of.”

“This is a new tune for you.”

He pulled the grass moodily.

“And when do you think of going?”

“Oh—I don’t know—I’ve said nothing to mother. Not yet,—at any rate not till spring.”

“Not till something has happened,” said I.

“What?” he asked.

“Something decisive.”

“I don’t know what can happen—unless the Squire turns us out.”

“No?” I said.

He did not speak.

“You should make things happen,” said I.

“Don’t make me feel a worse fool, Cyril,” he replied despairingly.


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/109

Rh Gyp whined and jumped, tugging her chain to follow us. The grey blurs among the blackness of the bushes were resting sheep. A chill, dim mist crept along the ground.

“But, for all that, Cyril,” he said, “to have her laugh at you across the table; to hear her sing as she moved about, before you are washed at night, when the fire’s warm, and you’re tired; to have her sit by you on the hearth seat, close and soft. . . .”

“In Spain,” I said. “In Spain.”

He took no notice, but turned suddenly, laughing.

“Do you know, when I was stooking up, lifting the sheaves, it felt like having your arm round a girl. It was quite a sudden sensation.”

“You’d better take care,” said I, “you’ll mesh yourself in the silk of dreams, and then——”

He laughed, not having heard my words.

“The time seems to go like lightning—thinking” he confessed—“I seem to sweep the mornings up in a handful.”

“Oh, Lord!” said I. “Why don’t you scheme forgetting what you want, instead of dreaming fulfilments?”

“Well,” he replied. “If it was a fine dream, wouldn’t you want to go on dreaming?” and with that he finished, and I went home.

I sat at my window looking out, trying to get things straight. Mist rose, and wreathed round Nethermere, like ghosts meeting and embracing sadly. I thought of the time when my friend should not follow the harrow on our own snug valley side, and when Lettie’s room next mine should be closed to hide its emptiness, not its joy. My heart clung


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/110

102 passionately to the hollow which held us all; how could I bear that it should be desolate! I wondered what Lettie would do.

In the morning I was up early, when daybreak came with a shiver through the woods. I went out, while the moon still shone sickly in the west. The world shrank from the morning. It was then that the last of the summer things died. The wood was dark,—and smelt damp and heavy with autumn. On the paths the leaves lay clogged.

As I came near the farm I heard the yelling of dogs. Running, I reached the Common, and saw the sheep huddled and scattered in groups, something leaped round them. George burst into sight pursuing. Directly, there was the bang, bang of a gun. I picked up a heavy piece of sandstone and ran forwards. Three sheep scattered wildly before me. In the dim light I saw their grey shadows move among the gorse bushes. Then a dog leaped, and I flung my stone with all my might. I hit. There came a high-pitched howling yelp of pain; I saw the brute make off, and went after him, dodging the prickly bushes, leaping the trailing brambles. The gunshots rang out again, and I heard the men shouting with excitement. My dog was out of sight, but I followed still, slanting down the hill. In a field ahead I saw someone running. Leaping the low hedge, I pursued, and overtook Emily, who was hurrying as fast as she could through the wet grass. There was another gunshot and great shouting. Emily glanced round, saw me, and started.

“It’s gone to the quarries,” she panted. We walked on, without saying a word. Skirting the


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/111

Rh spinney, we followed the brook course, and came at last to the quarry fence. The old excavations were filled now with trees. The steep walls, twenty feet deep in places, were packed with loose stones, and trailed with hanging brambles. We climbed down the steep bank of the brook, and entered the quarries by the bed of the stream. Under the groves of ash and oak a pale primrose still lingered, glimmering wanly beside the hidden water. Emily found a smear of blood on a beautiful trail of yellow convolvulus. We followed the tracks on to the open, where the brook flowed on the hard rock bed, and the stony floor of the quarry was only a tangle of gorse and bramble and honeysuckle.

“Take a good stone,” said I, and we pressed on, where the grove in the great excavation darkened again, and the brook slid secretly under the arms of the bushes and the hair of the long grass. We beat the cover almost to the road. I thought the brute had escaped, and I pulled a bunch of mountain-ash berries, and stood tapping them against my knee. I was startled by a snarl and a little scream. Running forward, I came upon one of the old, horse-shoe lime kilns that stood at the head of the quarry. There, in the mouth of one of the kilns, Emily was kneeling on the dog, her hands buried in the hair of its throat, pushing back its head. The little jerks of the brute’s body were the spasms of death; already the eyes were turning inward, and the upper lip was drawn from the teeth by pain.

“Good Lord, Emily! But he is dead!” I exclaimed.

“Has he hurt you?” I drew her away. She


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/112

104 shuddered violently, and seemed to feel a horror of herself.

“No—no,” she said, looking at herself, with blood all on her skirt, where she had knelt on the wound which I had given the dog, and pressed the broken rib into the chest. There was a trickle of blood on her arm.

“Did he bite you?” I asked, anxious.

“No—oh, no—I just peeped in, and he jumped. But he had no strength, and I hit him back with my stone, and I lost my balance, and fell on him.”

“Let me wash your arm.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “isn’t it horrible! Oh, I think it is so awful.”

“What?” said I, busy bathing her arm in the cold water of the brook.

“This— this whole brutal affair.”

“It ought to be cauterised,” said I, looking at a score on her arm from the dog’s tooth.

“That scratch—that’s nothing! Can you get that off my skirt—I feel hateful to myself.”

I washed her skirt with my handkerchief as well as I could, saying:

“Let me just sear it for you; we can go to the Kennels. Do—you ought—I don’t feel safe otherwise.”

“Really,” she said, glancing up at me, a smile coming into her fine dark eyes.

“Yes—come along.”

“Ha, ha!” she laughed. “You look so serious.”

I took her arm, and drew her away. She linked her arm in mine, and leaned on me.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herillus


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/113

Rh “It is just like Lorna Doone,” she said, as if she enjoyed it.

“But you will let me do it,” said I, referring to the cauterising.

“You make me; but I shall feel—ugh, I daren’t think of it. Get me some of those berries.”

I plucked a few bunches of guelder-rose fruits, transparent, ruby berries. She stroked them softly against her lips and cheek, caressing them. Then she murmured to herself:

“I have always wanted to put red berries in my hair.”

The shawl she had been wearing was thrown across her shoulders, and her head was bare, and her black hair, soft and short and ecstatic, tumbled wildly into loose light curls. She thrust the stalks of the berries under her combs. Her hair was not heavy or long enough to have held them. Then, with the ruby bunches glowing through the black mist of curls, she looked up at me, brightly, with wide eyes. I looked at her, and felt the smile winning into her eyes. Then I turned and dragged a trail of golden-leaved convolvulus from the hedge, and I twisted it into a coronet for her.

“There!” said I, “you’re crowned.”

She put back her head, and the low laughter shook in her throat.

“What!” she asked, putting all the courage and recklessness she had into the question, and in her soul trembling.

“Not Chloë, not Bacchante. You have always got your soul in your eyes, such an earnest, troublesome soul.”


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Siculus


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/114

106 The laughter faded at once, and her great seriousness looked out again at me, pleading.

“You are like Burne-Jones’ damsels. Troublesome shadows are always crowding across your eyes, and you cherish them. You think the flesh of the apple is nothing, nothing. You only care for the eternal pips. Why don’t you snatch your apple and eat it, and throw the core away?”

She looked at me sadly, not understanding, but believing that I in my wisdom spoke truth, as she always believed when I lost her in a maze of words. She stooped down, and the chaplet fell from her hair, and only one bunch of berries remained. The ground around us was strewn with the four-lipped burrs of beechnuts, and the quaint little nut-pyramids were scattered among the ruddy fallen leaves. Emily gathered a few nuts.

“I love beechnuts,” she said, “but they make me long for my childhood again till I could almost cry out. To go out for beechnuts before breakfast; to thread them for necklaces before supper;—to be the envy of the others at school next day! There was as much pleasure in a beech necklace then, as there is in the whole autumn now—and no sadness. There are no more unmixed joys after you have grown up.” She kept her face to the ground as she spoke, and she continued to gather the fruits.

“Do you find any with nuts in?” I asked.

“Not many—here—here are two, three. You have them. No—I don’t care about them.”

I stripped one of its horny brown coat and gave it to her. She opened her mouth slightly to take it, looking up into my eyes. Some people, instead of


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/115

Rh bringing with them clouds of glory, trail clouds of sorrow; they are born with “the gift of sorrow”; “sorrows” they proclaim “alone are real. The veiled grey angels of sorrow work out slowly the beautiful shapes. Sorrow is beauty, and the supreme blessedness.” You read it in their eyes, and in the tones of their voices. Emily had the gift of sorrow. It fascinated me, but it drove me to rebellion.

We followed the soft, smooth-bitten turf toad under the old beeches. The hillside fell away, dishevelled with thistles and coarse grass. Soon we were in sight of the Kennels, the red old Kennels which had been the scene of so much animation in the time of Lord Byron. They were empty now, overgrown with weeds. The barred windows of the cottages were grey with dust; there was no need now to protect the windows from cattle, dog or man. One of the three houses was inhabited. Clear water trickled through a wooden runnel into a great stone trough outside near the door.

“Come here,” said I to Emily. “Let me fasten the back of your dress.”

“Is it undone?” she asked, looking quickly over her shoulder, and blushing.

As I was engaged in my task, a girl came out of the cottage with a black kettle and a tea-cup. She was so surprised to see me thus occupied, that she forgot her own duty, and stood open-mouthed.

“S’r Ann! S’r Ann,” called a voice from inside. “Are ter goin’ ter come in an’ shut that door?”

Sarah Ann hastily poured a few cupfuls of water into the kettle, then she put down both utensils, and stood holding her bare arms to warm them. Her


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/116

108 chief garment consisted of a skirt with grey bodice and red flannel skirt, very much torn. Her black hair hung in wild tails on to her shoulders.

“We must go in here,” said I, approaching the girl. She, however, hastily seized the kettle and ran indoors with an “Oh, mother——!”

A woman came to the door. One breast was bare, and hung over her blouse, which, like a dressing-jacket, fell loose over her skirt. Her fading, red-brown hair was all frowsy from the bed. In the folds of her skirt clung a swarthy urchin with a shockingly short shirt. He stared at us with big black eyes, the only portion of his face undecorated with egg and jam. The woman’s blue eyes questioned us languidly. I told her our errand.

“Come in—come in,” she said, “but dunna look at th’ ’ouse. Th’ childers not been long up. Go in, Billy, wi’ nowt on!”

We entered, taking the forgotten kettle lid. The kitchen was large, but scantily furnished; save, indeed, for children. The eldest, a girl of twelve or so, was standing toasting a piece of bacon with one hand, and holding back her nightdress in the other. As the toast hand got scorched, she transferred the bacon to the other, gave the hot fingers a lick to cool them, and then held back her nightdress again. Her auburn hair hung in heavy coils down her gown. A boy sat on the steel fender, catching the dropping fat on a piece of bread. “One, two, three, four, five, six drops,” and he quickly bit off the tasty corner, and resumed the task with the other hand. When we entered he tried to draw his shirt over his knees, which caused the fat to fall wasted. A fat baby,


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/117

Rh laid down from the breast, lay kicking on the squab, purple in the face, while another lad was pushing bread and butter into its mouth. The mother swept to the sofa, poked out the bread and butter, pushed her finger into the baby’s throat, lifted the child up, punched its back, and was highly relieved when it began to yell. Then she administered a few sound spanks to the naked buttocks of the crammer. He began to howl, but stopped suddenly on seeing us laughing. On the sack-cloth which served as hearth rug sat a beautiful child washing the face of a wooden doll with tea, and wiping it on her nightgown. At the table, an infant in a high chair sat sucking a piece of bacon, till the grease ran down his swarthy arms, oozing through his fingers. An old lad stood in the big arm-chair, whose back was hung with a calf-skin, and was industriously pouring the dregs of the teacups into a basin of milk. The mother whisked away the milk, and made a rush for the urchin, the baby hanging over her arm the while.

“I could half kill thee,” she said, but he had slid under the table—and sat serenely unconcerned.

“Could you”—I asked when the mother had put her bonny baby again to her breast—“could you lend me a knitting needle?”

“Our S’r Ann, wheer’s thy knittin’ needles?” asked the woman, wincing at the same time, and putting her hand to the mouth of the sucking child. Catching my eye, she said:

“You wouldn’t credit how he bites. ’E’s nobbut two teeth, but they like six needles.” She drew her brows together, and pursed her lips, saying to the


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/118

110 child, “Naughty lad, naughty lad! Tha’ shanna hae it, no, not if ter bites thj mother like that.”

The family interest was now divided between us and the private concerns in process when we entered;—save, however, that the bacon sucker had sucked on stolidly, immovable, all the time.

“Our Sam, wheer’s my knittin’, tha’s ’ad it?” cried S’r Ann after a little search.

“ ’A ’e na,” replied Sam from under the table.

“Yes, tha’ ’as,” said the mother, giving a blind prod under the table with her foot.

“ ’A ’e na then!” persisted Sam.

The mother suggested various possible places of discovery, and at last the knitting was found at the back of the table drawer, among forks and old wooden skewers.

“I ’an ter tell yer wheer ivrythink is,” said the mother in mild reproach. S’r Ann, however, gave no heed to her parent. Her heart was torn for her knitting, the fruit of her labours; it was a red woollen cuff for the winter; a corkscrew was bored through the web, and the ball of red wool was bristling with skewers.

“It’s a’ thee, our Sam,” she wailed. “I know it’s a’ thee an’ thy A. B. C.”

Samuel, under the table, croaked out in a voice of fierce monotony:

The mother began to shake with quiet laughter.

“His father learnt him that—made it all up,” she whispered proudly to us—and to him.


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/119

Rh “Tell us what ‘B’ is Sam.”

“Shonna,” grunted Sam.

“Go on, there’s a duckie; an’ I’ll ma’ ’e a treacle puddin’.”

“Today?” asked S’r Ann eagerly.

“Go on, Sam, my duck,” persisted the mother.

“Tha’ ’as na got no treacle,” said Sam conclusively.

The needle was in the fire; the children stood about watching.

“Will you do it yourself?” I asked Emily.

“I!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes of astonishment, and she shook her head emphatically.

“Then I must.” I took out the needle, holding it in my handkerchief. I took her hand and examined the wound. But when she saw the hot glow of the needle, she snatched away her hand, and looked into my eyes, laughing in a half-hysterical fear and shame. I was very serious, very insistent. She yielded me her hand again, biting her lips in imagination of the pain, and looking at me. While my eyes were looking into hers she had courage; when I was forced to pay attention to my cauterising, she glanced down, and with a sharp “Ah!” ending in a little laugh, she put her hands behind her, and looked again up at me with wide brown eyes, all quivering with apprehension, and a little shame, and a laughter that held much pleading.

One of the children began to cry.

“It is no good,” said I, throwing the fast cooling needle on to the hearth.

I gave the girls all the pennies I had—then I


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermas


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/120

112 Sam, who had crept out of the shelter of the table, a sixpence.

“Shonna a’e that,” he said, turning from the small coin.

“Well—I have no more pennies, so nothing will be your share.”

I gave the other boy a rickety knife I had in my pocket. Sam looked fiercely at me. Eager for revenge, he picked up the “porkypine quill” by the hot end. He dropped it with a shout of rage, and, seizing a cup off the table, flung it at the fortunate Jack. It smashed against the fire-place. The mother grabbed at Sam, but he was gone. A girl, a little girl, wailed, “Oh, that’s my rosey mug—my rosey mug.” We fled from the scene of confusion. Emily had hardly noticed it. Her thoughts were of herself, and of me.

“I am an awful coward,” said she humbly.

“But I can’t help it” she looked beseechingly.

“Never mind,” said I.

“All my flesh seems to jump from it. You don’t know how I feel.”

“Well—never mind.”

“I couldn’t help it, not for my life.”

“I wonder,” said I, “if anything could possibly disturb that young bacon-sucker? He didn’t even look round at the smash.”

“No,” said she, biting the tip of her finger moodily.

Further conversation was interrupted by howls from the rear. Looking round we saw Sam careering after us over the close-bitten turf, howling scorn and derision at us. “Rabbit-tail, rabbit-tail,” he


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/121

Rh cried, his bare little legs twinkling, and his little shirt fluttering in the cold morning air. Fortunately, at last he trod on a thistle or a thorn, for when we looked round again to see why he was silent, he was capering on one leg, holding his wounded foot in his hands.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermeias 1.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermeias 2.


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/116

Rh where it does not exist as a natural instinct, it is taught as the first principle of good manners, and considered as the universal passport to good society.

Nor can this, the greatest charm of female character, if totally neglected in youth, ever be acquired in after life. When the mind has been accustomed to what is vulgar, or gross, the fine edge of feeling is gone, and nothing can restore it. It is comparatively easy, on first entering upon life, to maintain the page of thought unsullied, by closing it against every improper image; but when once such images are allowed to mingle with the imagination, so as to be constantly revived by memory, and thus to give their tone to the habitual mode of thinking and conversing, the beauty of the female character may indeed be said to be gone, and its glory departed.

But we will no longer contemplate so unlovely—so unnatural a picture. Woman, happily for her, is gifted by nature with a quickness of perception, by which she is able to detect the earliest approach of anything which might tend to destroy that high-toned purity of character, for which, even in the days of chivalry, she was more reverenced and adored, than for her beauty itself. This quickness of perception in minute and delicate points, with the power which woman also possesses of acting upon it instantaneously, has, in familiar phraseology, obtained the name of tact; and when this natural gift is added to good taste, the two combined are of more value to a woman in the social and domestic affairs of every-day life, than the most brilliant intellectual endowments could be without them.

When a woman is possessed of a high degree of tact, she sees, as if by a kind of second-sight, when any little emergency is likely to occur; or when, to use a more familiar expression, things do not seem likely to go right. She

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/116


text:
Page:Dictionary of spoken Russian (1945).djvu/508

 ной? Aren't you ashamed of yourself for doing it behind his back?

спинка back. Не люблю стульев с такими высокими спинками. I don't like chairs with such high backs.

спирт (P -ы/g -у; в спирту/) alcohol.

список (-ска) list. Бельё принесли из прачечной, проверьте по списку. They brought your laundry. Check it with your list. — Вот вам список того, что надо купить. Here's a list of things you have to buy. • manuscript copy. Его стихи ходили по рукам в списках. His poems were circulated in manuscript copies. □ избирательный список ballot.

спичка match. Можно попросить у вас спичку? May I have a match, please? — Он чиркнул спичкой, но она не загорелась. He struck the match, but it didn't light. — Купите мне коробку спичек. Buy me a box of matches. □ У неё ноги, как спички. Her legs are like sticks.

сплав alloy. Это сплав олова со свинцом. This is an alloy of tin and lead.

сплетня (gp сплетен) gossip. Не стану я верить всем этим сплетням. I won't believe all this gossip.

сплошной solid. Толпа двигалась сплошной стеной. The crowd moved forward like a solid wall. • continuous. Дорога проходит через сплошные леса. The road leads through a continuous stretch of woods. • complete. Это сплошной вздор! This is complete nonsense!

сплошь straight. Мы работали две недели сплошь, чтобы закончить работу во-время. We worked for two weeks straight to get the job done on time. □ сплошь да рядом very often. Он сплошь да рядом ошибается. He very often makes mistakes. □ Все стены сплошь были увешаны картинами. All the walls were covered with paintings. • Во время войны в нашей деревне выгорели сплошь все дома. All the houses in our village were burned down during the war. • У меня завтра весь день сплошь будет занят. I won't have a minute to myself tomorrow.

спокойный calm. Сегодня море спокойное, можно покатиться на лодке. The sea is calm today; we can go boating. — У него очень спокойная манера говорить. He speaks in a very calm manner. • quiet. Не бойтесь, это спокойная лошадь. Don't be scared; this is a quiet horse. □ будьте спокойны rest assured. Будьте спокойны, всё будет сделано во-время. Rest assured; everything will be done in time. спокойно calmly. Она спокойно отвечала на все вопросы. She calmly replied to all the questions. □ Спокойной ночи! Good night!

сполна (/cf полный/) in full. Он заплатил долг сполна. He paid his debt in full.

спор (/g -у/) argument. О чём у вас тут спор идёт? What is the argument all about? • discussion. По этому поводу уже давно идёт спор между учёными. A discussion has been going on among scholars about this matter for a long time. • debate. Как вам не надоели эти вечные споры? Aren't you tired of these endless debates? □ Спору нет, она девушка неглупая. There's no denying that she's a rather clever girl.

спорить to argue. Беда с вами! Не успели сойтись, как сейчас же спорить. It's terrible! The minute you get together you start arguing. — Против этого нельзя спорить. You can't argue against it. • to discuss. С ним не стоит об этом спорить, он всё равно никого не слушает. There's no use discussing it with him; he never listens to anybody anyway. □ О вкусах не спорят. Everyone to his own taste.

спорный controversial. Не стоит подымать спорных вопросов. There's no use raising controversial issues. • debatable. Это спорный вопрос. That's a debatable question.

спорт sport. Какой ваш любимый спорт? What's your favorite sport?

спортивный sports. Он не пропускает ни одного спортивного состязания. He doesn't miss a single sports event. □ спортивная площадка athletic field. Вчера состоялось открытие новой спортивной площадки. The opening of the new athletic field took place yesterday. спортивный зал gymnasium. Сбор в спортивном зале в восемь часов. The meeting is in the gymnasium at eight o'clock.

способ way. Я всеми способами пытался убедить его. I've tried to convince him every way. • method. Вы слыхали о новом способе лечения этой болезни? Have you heard about the new method of treating this illness? • manner. Способ употребления этой жидкости следующий: .... The manner in which this liquid is used is as follows: ....

способность (F) ability. У него большие способности, но он не умеет работать. He has great ability, but he just doesn't know how to work. — Он совершенно потерял способность владеть собой. He's completely lost the ability to control himself. • flair. У вас хорошие способности к языкам. You have a flair for languages. □ врождённая способность knack. У этого мальчишки врождённые способности к механике. This boy has a knack for mechanics. пропускная способность turnover. Какая пропускная способность этой столовой? What's the daily turnover in this dining room?

способный capable. Он очень способный молодой учёный. He's a very capable young scholar. — Когда он вспылит, он способен наговорить вам грубости. He's capable of saying nasty things when he flies into a rage. • able. Не всякий способен работать по пятнадцати часов в сутки. Not everyone is able to work a fifteen-hour day.

спою See спеть.

справа (/cf правый/) on the right. Поставьте этот стол у окна справа. Put this table on the right near the window. • to the right. Подъезжайте к дому справа. Drive up to the right of the house. • at (someone's) right. Кто сидит справа от хозяйки? Who is sitting at the hostess's right?

справедливость (F) justice. Я не требую никаких поблажек, а только справедливости. I'm not asking for any favors, only justice. — Надо отдать ему справедливость, он очень умён. You've got to do him justice; he's very intelligent. • fairness. По справедливости ему полагалось бы уйти в отпуск раньше всех. In all fairness, he should really go on his vacation before everybody else. • truth. В справедливости этих слухов, к сожалению, нет сомнения. Unfortunately, there's no doubt about the truth of these rumors.

справедливый just. Это совершенно справедливое требование. That's an entirely just demand. • fair. Он всегда справедлив в своих отзывах о людях. He's always fair


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/117

106 is thus aware of any sudden turn in conversation, and prepared for what it may lead to; but, above all, she can penetrate into the state of mind of those with whom she is placed in contact, so as to detect the gathering gloom upon another's brow, before the mental storm shall have reached any formidable height; to know when the tone of voice has altered, when an unwelcome thought has presented itself, and when the pulse of feeling is beating higher or lower in consequence of some apparently trifling circumstance which has just transpired.

In these and innumerable instances of a similar nature, the woman of tact, not only perceives the variations which are constantly taking place in the atmosphere of social life, but she adapts herself to them with a facility which the law of love enables her to carry out, so as to spare her friends the pain and annoyance which so frequently arise out of the mere mismanagement of familiar and apparently unimportant affairs. And how often do these seeming trifles—

"The lightly uttered, careless word"—

the wrong construction put upon a right meaning—the accidental betrayal of what there would have been no duplicity in concealing—how often do these wound us more than direct unkindness. Even the young feel this sometimes too sensitively for their own peace. But while the tears they weep in private, attest the severity of their sorrow, let them not, like the misanthrope, turn back with hatred or contempt upon the world which they suppose to have injured them; but let them rather learn this wholesome lesson, by their own experience, so to meet the peculiarities of those with whom they associate, as to soften down the asperities of temper, to heal the wounds of morbid feeling, and to make

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/117


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/118

Rh the current of life run smoothly, so far as they have power to cast the oil of peace upon its waters.

Such then is the general use of tact. Particular instances of its operation would be too minute, and too familiar, to occupy, with propriety, the pages of a book; for, like many other female excellencies, it is more valued, and better understood, by the loss a character sustains without it, than by any definite form it assumes, even when most influential upon the conversation and conduct. This valueable acquirement, however, can never be attained without the cultivation in early life of habits of close observation It is not upon the notes of a piece of music only, not upon a pattern of fancy-work, nor even upon the pages of an interesting book, that the attention must alone be brought to bear; but upon things in general, so that the faculty of observation shall become so sharpened by constant use, that nothing can escape it.

Far be it from me to recommend that idle and vulgar curiosity, which peeps about without a motive, or, worse than that, with a view to collect materials for scandal. Observation is a faculty which may be kept perpetually at work, without intrusion or offence to others; and at the same time, with infinite benefit to ourselves. Every object in creation, every sound, every sensation, every production either of nature or of art, supplies food for observation, while observation in its turn supplies food for thought. I have been astonished in my association with young ladies, at the very few things they appear to have to think about. Generally speaking, they might be all talked up in the course of a week. And what is the consequence? It is far beyond a jest, for the consequence too frequently is, that they grow weary of themselves, then weary of others, and lastly weary of life—of life, that precious and immortal gift, which they share with angels, and which to them, as

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/118


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/119

108 to the angelic host, has been bestowed in order that therewith they may glorify the gracious Giver.

Now, this very weariness, which at the same time is the most prevalent disease, and the direct calamity, we find amongst young women; since it not only makes them useless and miserable, but drives them perpetually into excitement as a momentary relief—this weariness arises out of various causes with which young people are not sufficiently made acquainted, and one of the most powerful of which is, a neglect of the habit of observation.

"I have seen nobody, and heard nothing to-day," is the vapid remark of one to whom the glorious heavens, and the fruitful earth, might as well be so much paint and patchwork. "What an uninteresting person!" exclaims another, who has never looked a second time at some fine expressive countenance, where deep feeling tells its own impassioned story. "I wish some one would come and invite us out to tea," says a third, whose household library is stored with books, and whose parents have within themselves a fund of intelligence, which they would be but too happy to communicate, could they find an attentive listener in their child. "But my life is so monotonous," pleads a fourth, "and my range of vision so limited, that I have nothing to observe." With those who live exclusively in towns, I confess this argument might have some weight; and for this reason, I suppose it is, that town-bred young women are often more ignorant than those who spend a portion of their early life in the country—not certainly because there is really less to be observed in towns, but because the mind, in the midst of a multitude of moving images, is comparatively unimpressed by any. I confess, too, there is something in the noise and tumult of a crowded city, which stupifies the mind, and blunts its perception of individual things, until the whole shifting pageant assumes

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/119


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/120

Rh the character of some vast panorama, upon which we look, only with regard to the whole, and forgetful of each individual part.

"It is true, I have taken my accustomed walk in the city," observes a fifth young woman, "but I have found nothing to think about." What! was there nothing to think about in the squalid forms of want and misery which met you at every turn?—nothing in the disappointed look of the patient mendicant as you passed him by?—nothing in the pale and half-clad mother, seated on the step at the rich man's door, folding her infant to her bosom, and shrouding it with the "wings of care?"—was there nothing in all that was doing amongst those busy thousands, for supplying the common wants of man; the droves of weary animals goaded, stupified, or maddened, none of which would ever tread again the greensward on the mountain's side, or slake its thirst beside the woodland brook?—was there nothing in the bold and beautiful charger, the bounding steed, or the sleek and well-fed carriage-horse, contrasted with the galled and lacerated victims of oppression, waiting for their round of agony to come again?—was there nothing in the vastness of man's resources, the variety of his inventions, the power of combined effort, as displayed in that perpetual succession of luxuries both for the body and the mind?—was there nothing in that aspect of order and industry, so important to individual, as well as national prosperity?—was there nothing, in short, in that mighty mass of humanity, or in the millions of pulses beating there, with health or sickness, weal or wo?—was there nothing in all this to think about? Why, one of our late poets was wont to weep as he walked along Fleet-street and the Strand; so intense were his sympathies with that moving host of fellow-beings. And can young and sensitive women be found to pass over the same ground, and say

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/120


text: Cambridge Natural History Mammalia/Chapter III


text: Cambridge Natural History Mammalia/Chapter IV


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/98

90 death—annihilation—would have been to me then; but it was not to be. My mind was in a perfect state of confusion. Occasionally I heard a distant door being opened and shut, and again and again the frightful yells, horrid oaths, howls, roars, and screams smote on my ears. What could it all mean? The Doctor was evidently a kind man; he spoke to me in the gentlest manner, and laid his hand, which was like that of a sensitive woman, lightly on my heart, and called me his dear boy. Where was I, then, and who was this mysterious doctor? Ha! the whole truth like a bright light flashed upon me—a great battle had been fought. I was in one of the military hospitals, and the Doctor was the man whom I had seen driving furiously past the Demon and myself on his way to see King Charles the Second.

What did the hospitals of the Emperor Valens and those of other potentates do without the ministering angels, the Florence Nightingales, of our day? Perhaps they had them, but there were none here—no Sister Rose Gertrudes, no fair and sweet daughters of love and charity to soothe with gentle hands and words the last moments of the dying, or communicate renewed joy day by day by their presence to those who were being restored to life. There were no flowers to scatter on the ashes of the dead, and no dear young hands to scatter them. There was no drum of the funeral march to proclaim to a sorrowing nation that its greatest warrior was no more. This may be indeed only a world of shadows; the shadows in it may have no sense or feeling, but still I say it is possible that it may turn out to be a more real and substantial world than the one of coarse matter and substance in which we live. For the things which we actually see and feel are temporal, while those which we have never yet seen or known are eternal. Whether for good or for evil there comes no death in that


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/99

Rh world—even if it be one of shadows—to put an end to its people's pleasures, or to release them from their pain.

Within a reasonable time—that is to say, in about four or five hours—the Doctor returned. He was accompanied by an attendant, a young man to all appearance, dressed in a dark, blue uniform with yellow facings, who bore a tray containing the service of a small dinner-table. This he laid on the table beside my bed, and then left the room without speaking. The Doctor came to my side, and had a long look at my face. 'Are you hungry?' he asked at length.

'A little. Doctor.'

'Thirsty?'

'Very thirsty.'

'Well, drink some of this; now you had better eat something. See, I'm going to dine with you myself, and I'll try to move my jaws to some other purpose than chattering like a monkey's baby.' And he drew a black chair to the side of my bed, and helped me and himself to portions of the food from the tray. Incapable of using my hands, this kind doctor fed me himself with an iron spoon. Eating and drinking what he gave me without asking questions, I knew no more what the viands were than a prisoner in a coal-hole, but I knew that the food which he put into my mouth was soft, pleasant to the taste, and invigorating to the body.

When we were both fully satisfied he called his attendant, Florian by name, who removed the tray, and the Doctor sat still and silent for a considerable time by my bedside. Although a man apparently younger than myself, with a fresh, florid complexion, brown hair and beard, and benevolent blue eyes, still I was mortally afraid of him, and held my breath while he sat near me, lest I should unwittingly provoke some unexpected display of supernatural power. I remembered the Demon himself darting suddenly to my side when sitting, doing no harm to a single soul, on the


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/100

92 shore of the Great Lake. Nor had I forgotten his infernal balloon and its horrible driver, or the fiendish general of his larrikin brigade, and his luxurious couch, and the grand review which became a battle worthy of the Pit of Acheron, or the burning castles of the ensanguined park. I remembered the artful Bellagranda, with her dangerous beauty and seductive wiles. What if this kind doctor, now that my strength had left me, with his brown hair, handsome face, honest blue eyes, and soft musical voice, were another of the Demon's instruments of torture, perhaps of temptation? His heart seemed to be overflowing with sympathy, notwithstanding his fearful calling, and mine was filled with respect and gratitude.

Was I to be again deceived? If this was one of the Demon's confidential servants, leagued with him in a nefarious conspiracy to accomplish the destruction of my soul, the dread fiend had only one further step to take, and that I believed he had already taken. He had tried his million of pounds per annum, and his fine castles as many as I pleased; now perhaps he intended to tempt me by means of one of my own sex, whom I could love and honour. Let him complete his work as he had commenced it, notwithstanding his pretended wrath with his offending daughter, let him send me a charming nurse, and enchant me with the wit, the fascinations, the accomplishments, and the loveliness of the opposite sex, and what is to become of poor Ubertus? What can he do indeed but rush into the jaws of destruction, as the harnessed negroes rushed into the raging battle?

These thoughts swept painfully through my throbbing brain, and the Doctor, who perceived my uneasiness, arose from his chair, and bent over me. My eyes were closed as if in sleep. I felt something fall on my forehead which made me start with a thrill of joy. Was it a tear from that


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/101

Rh singular man's eyes which fell there? And yet how could it be? Demons cannot weep; perhaps he was not a demon. A tear of sorrow or remorse, or vain regret and repentance, in a place like this, from one accustomed to such scenes? It could not be; and yet I distinctly felt it—nay, I think I heard the plash of that tear as it fell.

'Poor fellow!' I heard him say in an audible whisper; 'how on earth did he come here, so young, and apparently so innocent? He never died, or he would have the brand of death upon him, and he has not that of the black angel upon him either. Neither have I, and yet he may be doomed to dwell here as I am. Two negroes brought him here, with a message from their master that I must save his life. He is the devil himself, that Demon; why could he not save him from the battle that he provoked, the doubling and twisting liar? He must have decoyed him here, or else compelled him to come before his time. If so, he has determined on his ultimate destruction. I wish I could save him from the arch-fiend's fangs, but I cannot; although I have great power he has far greater, but I may outwit him yet. Patience, patience, and be watchful and ready, O Julius!'

Here I groaned aloud in absolute terror, and shivered convulsively from head to foot.

'What's the matter?' he asked. 'But I forget, you must not speak. I know what's the matter with you; keep your mind and body quiet, and all may yet be well. In one week's time I will have you up, and then you may speak, and tell me all about everything, and how you came here, and when you are going back to the country you came from. Until then ask me no questions, and don't encourage me to talk, for if you do I shall not know how to leave off, there is so much to talk about in these precious times.' And, smothering a laugh with a great effort, he went away to


text:
Page:Life of Octavia Hill as told in her letters.djvu/195

 drawings are now right and ready for use; in fact he wants them at once that they may be put into the hands of the engraver. I am to do four more, small, but, Ruskin says, difficult examples of inferior work—and one bit from Turner … I had a quite delicious hour and a quarter at Ruskin's on Friday. We talked on many interesting subjects. …

Snowball fell down yesterday when I was riding him. Mama and Minnie were being driven by Gertrude just behind. If anyone else had been driving, I must have been run over; but G., with her grand calmness and power, stopped Ariel at once, turning her to one side. I am only shaken, not hurt at all. I was not thrown, but fell with Snowball.

Christmas, 1859. .

On Friday I was shown into Ruskin's study. One window had the shutters shut; the table was covered with books and papers; the fire burned brightly; at one window Ruskin sat drawing from a Turner, all squared over that it might be reduced. With his own exquisite elegance and ease, which enables him to do the oddest things in a way that one can't feel rude, instead of rising, he threw himself back in his chair and shook hands with me, as I stood behind; then he rose and giving me his chair walked to the fire—and then, Emma, he produced the loveliest drawings of boughs of oak to show me, one beautifully foreshortened, and explained the growth of it to me; how every leaf sends down a little rib that thickens the stems—how the leaves grow in spirals of five. He got a bit, and showed me the section. They were lovely. Then he told me that he wanted me to do an example of


text:
Page:Mysteries of Melbourne Life.djvu/15

Rh Mrs. Moran, that's the cook, to feed me. O! Lord, wasn't it beautiful to sit by the warm fire, and eat till you couldn't take in more!"

"Don't know," said Patsy, "never 'sperienced anything like that."

"Then she came and listened to what I told her—"

"A good story, I'll be bound," said Patsy.

—"And she believed me, and got Mr. Wilton to take me as a generally useful boy, for they want one to chop wood, dig the garden, and mind Valentine, the horse, and Lucy, the cow; and here I've been, happy as the day's long, and hopin' to grow better. It's wonderful the way missus is bringing me on; my mind seems to grow and grow, and I appear to be getting to know so much."

"And you're growing in statter, too," said Patsy. "Fillin' out nicely, eh?"

"Yes," replied Bill stoutly, "and I don't want to return to that dreadful life I once led. There's only one thing I want. I'd like to meet the cowardly wretch who killed the poor gal. I'd give him up, I would. Lord? Patsy, I'm not the same fellow I used to be at all."

"Not you," said Patsy; "forgot all your old friends, but yer old friends won't forget you—specially the bluebottles. I could do you a nice trick now; I could have you took up for that search after knowledge, and other little jobs. But I 'spect you've gone in for what the chaps in the Gospel Hall blow about: meekness and charity. If I hit you on one cheek you'd turn the other—"

"Just try," laconically observed Bill.

"Well, well" said Patsy, dropping his voice; "we won't quarrel, old boy. Ha'n't they got lots o' nice things inside?"

"Perhaps they have," said Bill.

"Silver spoons as can walk off by their own selves, purses as can't feel comfortable 'ceptin' in my pocket—you know."

"I know nothing," said Bill doggedly.

"Of course," said Patsy, edging close to Bill. "You know, old chap, we could manage matters nicely, just as Bob Smith did—you let me in at night, and leave all the rest to me. Lord I I'm so small, they couldn't see me."

"Look here," said Bill, in a determined voice, "if you don't shut up I'll make you."

"All right. Rec'lect how you could give up work, dress fine, an' 'ave cigars and brandy, just like Bob Smith."

"Shut up," cried Bill, "I'll kick you out of the gate."

"Oho?" continued the aggravating Patsy; "why, how you've lost your bad temper lately. You're grown quite an angel, only I don't see your wings—"

"Then feel them," cried Bill, who could no longer stand the sarcasms of his quondam ally, and he made lights dance before Patsy's eyes such as he had not seen for a few days. Hereupon a regular stand-up fight took place. Patsy, though small, was wiry, and hitting seemed to have the same effect upon him as on an iron post. He was used to blows, and took them kindly; like Antaeus, in re the earth, they gave him fresh strength. But Bill was strong, and an expert at his fists, so that it is likely Patsy would have had to fly, had not Mrs. Moran, who was attracted by the noise, become a witness of the conflict; and she at once raised such an outcry, that Linda and Harry Robertson, who had just arrived, came running round to ascertain what was the matter. The boys were then separated, and Patsy sent about his business.

"Oho! my cove," said he, scowling on Bill as he went out; "I'll be even with you yet, you meek and holy repperbate, blowed if I don't."

"How do you like the angel's wings?" cried Bill triumphantly, as he shut-to the gate with a bang.

"Better'n you'll like the bluebottles' darbies," cried Patsy with a frightful grin.

Bill's explanation of the fight was satisfactory, though Harry could not but question the policy of having such a boy about the house. As he had been the associate of thieves and rogues, he might be persuaded to assist in robbing the place. But Linda stoutly maintained that he was a true-hearted fellow, and that she would stake her life on his truth. So, for the present, the matter ended. Bill was at first a little frightened for fear Patsy would carry his threats into execution; but when he reflected that the police-office was about the last place on earth that interesting youth would willingly visit, for certain reasons well-known to himself, he felt more at his ease; and having groomed Valentine, proceeded to milk Lucy with all the comfort imaginable. The individual most ruffled by the encounter had been Scrix, the cat, which, owing to the unexpected shower-bath did not thoroughly recover her temper until she had had it out with Snix, the poodle after which was all amity.

In the drawingroom Harry Robertson and Linda sat conversing, Linda's eyes ever wandering to see if "Bobs" was coming. What


text:
Page:Spanish Constitution of 1978 English translation.pdf/13

 whatsoever. The law shall regulate the right to the clause of conscience and professional secrecy in the exercise of these freedoms.

2. The exercise of these rights may not be restricted by any form of prior censorship.

3. The law shall regulate the organization and parliamentary control of the mass communication media under the control of the State or any public agency and shall guarantee access to such media by the significant social and political groups, respecting the pluralism of society and of the various languages of Spain.

4. These freedoms are limited by respect for the rights recognised in this Part, by the legal provisions implementing it, and especially by the right to honour, to privacy, to the own image and to the protection of youth and childhood.

5. The seizure of publications, recordings and other means of information may only be carried out by means of a court order.

Section 21

1. The right to peaceful unarmed assembly is recognised. The exercise of this right shall not require prior authorization.

2. In the case of meetings in public places and of demonstrations, prior notification shall be given to the authorities, who may only forbid them when there are well founded grounds to expect a breach of public order, involving danger to persons or property.

Section 22

1. The right of association is recognised.

2. Associations which pursue ends or use means legally defined as criminal offences are illegal. 17


text:
Page:Mysteries of Melbourne Life.djvu/16

12 a splendid man Harry Robertson was become! His form had filled out into elegant yet powerful proportions, and gave the impression of beauty and strength. His face, guarded by a short dark brown beard, was noble and thoughtful in contour, and his splendid brow conveyed an idea of unmistakeable intellectuality. There was something about the whole ensemble of this man that told of personal and mental superiority, fitting him for the worship of lesser beings. The element of haughtiness, which detracts from so many such men, was entirely absent. It is only those who have not thought deeply who are proud or haughty. The man who has studied knows too much to look upon even the meanest of God's creatures with contempt. So, there was ever on Harry's handsome face a kind sympathetic look that seemed to go abroad to all, and to feel for everyone. The sweet winning smile never deserted him, and coming from such a man it was irresistible.

Irresistible, did I say? Oh it had not been successful in winning Linda's love. But Harry had driven that passion into those shaded comers of the heart where lie so many of past and gone hopes, and now he looked upon her only as the wife of the friend who was dearer to him than anyone in the world, for his heart had not gone forth to a soul since its disappointment with Linda. Occupied as he was with noble thoughts, with the study of the problems of this life, with an active interest in the development of the great country to which he owed so much, Harry was protected from the evils that ruin the thoughtless moths who fall so easily into the snare of forbidden love.

How dear Robert was to him he had never found out until they separated. For years they had lived together, never apart for a day; their minds open to each other as the sky at noonday, their hearts beating in unison. It is true that Hugh Hanlon's brilliancy had at times eclipsed Harry's slower abilities, and that Robert would be decoyed away to join some of Hugh's will freaks; but although he was fond of, and often fascinated, by Hugh, he always returned to Harry. Why? Because he honored and respected the one, while he merely admired the other. How inexpressibly lonely had Harry felt when his companion left the old house and sought a new partner I But such partings must be in this changeable world; and so Harry learned to bear with the loss if not to forget.

"I have often wondered," said Linda, after one of her unsuccessful glances at the window, "what became of Hugh Hanlon. He was such a companion of yours once, and of Bob's."

"I do not know," replied Harry.

"I was quite frightened on our wedding-day," said Linda thoughtfully; "I feel certain that when we were coming out of St. Peter's I saw Hugh in one of the pews with a splendidly-dressed woman by his side. He looked at me in a strange manner; and she, too, appeared to glance at me malevolently."

"You were excited," said Harry, "and conjured up such phantasms. But, Linda, I have often wished to talk to you about a subject that interests me greatly. Have you noticed any alteration in Bobs recently?"

A slight shade passed over Linda's beautiful face.

"Yes, Harry, yes," she replied. "But it is only the change that must occur. I can't expect he'll always be so fond of me, or stay at home so much. Indeed, it cannot be expected, for a man must move amongst his kind to make himself acquainted with the world."

"That is right enough," said Harry; "but I begin to find a strange change in his behavior. He, who used to be the sweetest fellow in the world, gets quite snappish with me at times, and I notice he keeps company with some of the fastest men about town. Linda, Linda, keep him from them. O! If you knew the many broken hearts, blasted reputations, untimely deaths, shame and degradation, the result of intercourse with them, you would do all you could to keep him away. I try to get him to visit me, that I might interest him in some study or natural amusement; but he avoids anything serious. I fear he is becoming too light."

"O! it will end well," said Linda, like all wives anxious to shield her husband. "Bob says he has enough hard work all day, without studying at night."

"I didn't mean study," said Harry, "I meant proper amusements, such as would keep him away from dangerous haunts."

"O! don't talk so Harry," said Linda. "I'm sure the dear fellow will do what is proper."

Harry shook his head. He knew that Robert had never had what is known amongst young fellows as a "fling," and that if he "turned out" now, the consequences, in spite of his pretty wife, might be serious.


text:
Page:Spanish Constitution of 1978 English translation.pdf/14

 3. Associations set up on the basis of this section must be entered in a register for the sole purpose of public knowledge.

4. Associations may only be dissolved or have their activities suspended by virtue of a court order stating the reasons for it.

5. Secret and paramilitary associations are prohibited.

Section 23

1. Citizens have the right to participate in public affairs, directly or through representatives freely elected in periodic elections by universal suffrage.

2. They also have the right to accede under conditions of equality to public functions and positions, in accordance with the requirements laid down by the law.

Section 24

1. All persons have the right to obtain effective protection from the judges and the courts in the exercise of their rights and legitimate interests, and in no case may there be a lack of defense.

2. Likewise, all have the right to the ordinary judge predetermined by law; to defense and assistance by a lawyer; to be informed of the charges brought against them; to a public trial without undue delays and with full guarantees; to the use of evidence appropriate to their defense; not to make self-incriminating statements; not to plead themselves guilty; and to be presumed innocent.

The law shall specify the cases in which, for reasons of family relationship or professional secrecy, it shall not be compulsory to make statements regarding allegedly criminal offences.

18


text:
Page:Spanish Constitution of 1978 English translation.pdf/15

 Section 25

1. No one may be convicted or sentenced for actions or omissions which when committed did not constitute a criminal offence, misdemeanour or administrative offence under the law then in force.

2. Punishments entailing imprisonment and security measures shall be aimed at reeducation and social rehabilitation and may not involve forced labour. The person sentenced to prison shall enjoy, during the imprisonment, the fundamental rights contained in this Chapter except those expressly restricted by the content of the sentence, the purpose of the punishment and the penitentiary law. In any case, he or she shall be entitled to paid work and to the appropriate Social Security benefits, as well as to access to cultural opportunities and the overall development of his or her personality.

3. The Civil Administration may not impose penalties which directly of indirectly imply deprivation of freedom.

Section 26

Courts of Honour are prohibited within the framework of the Civil Administration and of professional organizations.

Section 27

1. Everyone has the right to education. Freedom of teaching is recognised.

2. Education shall aim at the full development of human personality with due respect for the democratic principles of coexistence and for basic rights and freedoms.

3. The public authorities guarantee the right of parents to ensure that their children receive religious and moral instruction in accordance with their own convictions. 19


text:
Page:Mysteries of Melbourne Life.djvu/17

13 "Can it be possible that the change in his conduct towards me lately is caused by jealousy?" asked Harry. "It appears to me as if he did not like to see me here."

"Impossible," said Linda, laughing; "Bob jealous of you—O! that would be absurd. O! here comes the dear fellow."

And with fairy footsteps she tripped towards the gate, where she expected to be folded in Bob's arms. But merely taking her hand, he said "There—don't be childish," and led her up to the house where Harry stood on the steps. "Don't be childish"—never had he behaved like this before. Linda felt perplexed and disappointed. Was her love becoming cheap, and of no account?

Bob was handsomer, and, if possible, more fascinating than ever. Linda and he formed a fine pair, Bob so graceful, with limbs so correctly moulded, face so exquisitely modelled, lit by the incessant play of the feelings; she so gentle, fairy-like, beautiful. But Robert's face was not exactly as when last we saw it. There was on it this evening a sort of impatient, sulking expression, as if he were fretting and had been disappointed. He did not meet Harry with his usual ardor, and he flung into the house in a mood which utterly astonished Linda and Harry, who followed in a sort of dazed way.

"I've seen an old friend to-day," said Robert, shortly.

"Indeed?" said Harry, for Linda was unable to speak. The tears were gathering in her eyes. She did not know whether to cry or to sulk, but the predisposition was towards the latter.

"Yes," continued Robert; "and who do you think he was?"

"I really can't guess," said Harry.

"Well, no other than Hugh Hanlon," said Robert.

Both listeners expressed surprise, and Linda almost forgot her sulks in the interest of the revelation.

"Yes; and he's doing capitally," continued Robert.

"I am glad to hear it," said Harry. "I told you on that day when the scene in the bank took place, that he would be driven to rely upon himself, which would restore him to his senses."

"O! yes," said Robert; "we had a famous laugh over that affair; Hugh told me he will never forget the ridiculous figure he cut when he went into heroics."

"And what is he doing now?" asked Harry.

"Leading a splendid life," said Robert: "Not the hum-drum sort I live; his is a glorious independent existence. He got some money from a relative, and went with it. Under the Verandah, where he's made a little pile in speculating in mining stocks. He's promised to give me the tip now and then. He does a little in betting, too, and has a book on the great sporting events."

"Hu—m," said Harry.

"Oh! Sobersides, I know you'd object to that," said Robert, "but his idea is that everything by which money can be made, so long as it's honest, is right. And all these great bookmakers carry on their operations in a business-like manner. Look at the life he lives, and the life I live. He goes about wherever he pleases all day, drives in his carriage, goes to the opera every night, lives on the best, and does nothing, while I have to stand at a desk the whole live-long day, just getting out in the evening in time to catch the train, and come home to drone away the remainder of the evening."

Drone away the remainder of the evening! Linda felt almost in a passion at that. Was it Robert—"Bobs"—who was speaking?

"Don't speak that way, Bob," said Harry; "his is simply the glory of a day; you will see him abject as ever, for such prosperity is not lasting, while you will go on and on, rising to a higher position, and a larger income, respected by all, and holding an enviable station society—"

"Yes, when I'm an interesting old bald-headed man of sixty, and can't enjoy anything except bad temper. [Linda thought he enjoyed that now.] I tell you, Harry, I've seen such fortunes made in mining and betting, that I've half a mind to have a try, too."

"There is nothing like steady industry," said Harry. "The man who hastes to get rich generally falls by the way."

"Oh! It's all very well for you to go on in that style," said Robert impatiently! "You've fallen into a fortune, and become a wealthy man. I don't see how I am to get rich, except by a bold stroke like that of Hugh Hanlon. What a nice thing it is every day to be snubbed by a manager and inspector, and 'kept under.' Well, how long will it be before dinner's ready, Linda; I want to go back to town."

"What to do, Robert?" asked Linda.

Perhaps Bob was going to ask why she wanted to know, for he was in a most unenviable mood; but he stopped himself, and replied that he was going back to make up some accounts.


text:
Page:Spanish Constitution of 1978 English translation.pdf/16

 4. Elementary education is compulsory and free.

5. The public authorities guarantee the right of all to education, through general education programming, with the effective participation of all sectors concerned and the setting-up of educational centres.

6. The right of individuals and legal entities to set up educational centres is recognised, provided they respect constitutional principles.

7. Teachers, parents and, when appropriate, pupils shall participate in the control and management of all centres supported by the Administration out of public funds, under the terms established by the law.

8. The public authorities shall inspect and standardise the educational system in order to ensure compliance with the laws.

9. The public authorities shall help the educational centres which meet the requirements established by the law.

10. The autonomy of Universities is recognised, under the terms established by the law.

Section 28

1. All have the right to freely join a trade union. The law may restrict or except the exercise of this right in the Armed Forces or Institutes or other bodies subject to military discipline, and shall lay down the special conditions of its exercise by civil servants. Trade union freedom includes the right to set up trade unions and to join the union of one's choice, as well as the right of trade unions to form confederations and to found international trade union organizations, or to become members thereof. No one may be compelled to join a trade union.

2. The right of workers to strike in defence of their interests is recognised. The law governing the exercise of this right shall establish 20


text:
Page:Spanish Constitution of 1978 English translation.pdf/17

 the safeguards necessary to ensure the maintenance of essential public services.

Section 29

1. All Spaniards shall have the right to individual and collective petition, in writing, in the manner and subject to the consequences to be laid down by law.

2. Members of the Armed Forces or Institutes or bodies subject to military discipline may only exercise this right individually and in accordance with statutory provisions relating to them.

Section 30

1. Citizens have the right and the duty to defend Spain.

2. The law shall determine the military obligations of Spaniards and shall regulate, with all due guarantees, conscientious objection as well as other grounds for exemption from compulsory military service; it may also, when appropriate, impose a community service in place of military service.

3. A civilian service may be established with a view to accomplishing objectives of general interest.

4. The duties of citizens in the event of serious risk, catastrophe or public calamity may be regulated by law.

Section 31

1. Everyone shall contribute to sustain public expenditure according to their economic capacity, through a fair tax system based on


text: Spinoza: A novel/Chapter 7

title: Spinoza: A novel/Chapter 7


text:
Page:Auerbach-Spinozanovel.djvu/13

 Slips for Librarians to paste on Catalog tu Cards. N. B. — Take out carefully, leaving about quarter of an inch at the back. To do otherwise would, in some cases, release other leaves. AUERBACH, BERTHOLD. Spinoza. (A Novel.) By Berthold Auerbach. New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1882. i6mo, pp. 444. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 135.) SPINOZA. (A Novel.) By Berthold Auerbach. New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1882. i6mo., pp. 444. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 135.) FICTION. Spinoza. (A Novel.) By Berthold Auerbach. New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1882. i6mo, pp. 444. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 135.)

title: Page:Auerbach-Spinozanovel.djvu/13


text:
Page:Auerbach-Spinozanovel.djvu/16

 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. {Leisure Hour Series.) ON THE HEIGHTS. 2 vols. THE VILLA ON THE RHINE, 2 vols., with Portrait. BLACK FOREST VILLAGE STORIES. THE LITTLE BAREP'OOT. JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. EDELWEISS. GERMAN TALES. THE CONVICTS. LORLEY AND REINHARD. ALOYS. POET AND MERCHANT. LANDOLIN. WALDFRIED. BRIGITTA. SPINOZA.

title: Page:Auerbach-Spinozanovel.djvu/16


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/102

94 attend to his duties, leaving me to my heart-breaking meditations.

The week passed by—slowly and painfully if I lay awake rapidly and lightly if I slept. Indeed, I could not say that I slept at all, for what passed over me for sleep was only a half-dreamy state of semi-existence; a mentally frenzied, outrageous, idiotic description of obscure insect life, very slightly removed from oblivion itself. I asked myself, while more sensible than usual, 'Have I been drinking with the shepherds of the Great Lake, and am I suffering from delirium tremens?' That could not be, for I am one of the most temperate of men. No; it was a different kind of thing, something mysterious and inexplicable. It was not insanity; I felt quite certain of that. Now I fancied myself groping like a baboon on all fours among sharp rocks at the bottom of the sea; now I was hovering in mid-air over a vast ocean of milk, changing into a wilderness where there were nothing but icebergs and burning mountains. There was no end to my extraordinary visions. While I lay awake my thoughts were not such a chaos of confusion. But now and then the agony of my mind was intense; the pain of my wounds afflicted me terribly. The Doctor came and examined me several times a day—at least, so I judged; he and his assistants unwound my bandages, and rubbed my body with aromatic ointment, while they observed the strictest silence. He smoothed my pillow, administered medicine, and fed me with his own hands. He was kindness and tenderness of heart personified, and my heart bounded with gratitude whenever he came near me.

On the eighth day, according to his computation of time, which I did not understand, he redeemed his word by bringing in three or four of his attendants, who, under his directions, lifted me out of bed, washed and dressed me with gentleness, carried me into the adjoining apartment, whence


text:
The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Tufts College

TUFTS COLLEGE, an institution of learning in Medford, Mass., founded by Universalists. The corner stone of the original edifice was laid July 19, 1853, and the building finished in the spring of 1854. It is of brick, 100 by 60 ft., and three stories high. Besides this there are at present three large dormitories furnishing accommodations for 150 students. The college was named in honor of Charles Tufts, who gave it 70 acres of land for a site. Its total endowment now amounts to more than $1,000,000. The institution was opened in August, 1854. In 1867 the divinity school was organized. The first president was the Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d, D. D., who died in 1861, and was succeeded by the Rev. Alonzo A. Miner, D. D., LL. D. Dr. Miner resigned in 1876, and was succeeded by the Rev. Elmer Hewitt Capen. In the college department there are two parallel courses of four years each. The first is the usual college course, for which the degree of bachelor of arts is given. The second resembles the first, but gives more scope to elective studies, and permits the substitution of the modern languages for Greek. For this course the degree of bachelor of philosophy is given. There is also an engineering course of three years. The full course in the divinity school is three years for bachelors of arts and four years for others; but students are admitted for shorter periods. For theological

tuition and room rent are free. The library of the college contains more than 16,000 volumes and 5,000 pamphlets. The museum contains good collections of minerals, shells, birds, and botanical specimens. In 1875-'6 the collegiate department had 10 professors, 1 instructor, and 73 students, viz.: classical course, 56; engineering, 12; philosophical, 2; resident graduates, 3. The divinity school had 3 professors, 1 instructor, 3 lecturers, and 23 students. The number of graduates of the college was 225; of the divinity school, 21.


text: Cambridge Natural History Mammalia/Chapter V


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/1


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/2


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/3


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/4


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/5


text: The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Universalists


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/6


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/7


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/8


text:
Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/103

Rh had issued the music that had surprised me out of my insensibility, and placed me sitting in a large arm-chair near a table, whereon burned a number of different-coloured lamps, which diffused a pleasing light through the room. This chamber was much larger than the one I had slept in, and my preserver, as I considered him to be, seating himself at the other end of the table, drew from a concealed drawer a large meerschaum pipe, which he proceeded to fill, asking me at the same time if the smell would be likely to disagree with me. I assured him that I would enjoy it more than anything he could mention; that in fact I had sometimes smoked when in the upper world—medicinally, however, and in great moderation.

'Medicinally!' he echoed, 'What may your complaint be, and how does tobacco-smoke act upon it?'

'I find it useful, sir,' I replied, 'as an antidote for the poison of low spirits.'

'It may be of some use for that,' said he, lighting his pipe, 'but I fear of very little. I smoke for company's sake. But I suppose you have a wife and family, and see plenty of company?'

I intimated that, although I had a wife and family, I lived a very retired life, and saw little or no company.

'I did not smoke here,' he continued, 'while you were very ill, thinking it might make you cough or sneeze; but now I believe it will help you to gain strength. Tobacco in moderation, as you wisely observe, is a soother of sorrow, and a stimulus to joy when we have reason to be joyful; but smoked to excess it is a poison, and has a tendency to destroy vital energy. You must not smoke yet except by deputy, and I'll do your smoking for you for another week. You are recovering your strength amazingly fast; your bones are now firmly knit, and your nerves and muscles are acquiring their former consistency and vigour. You have


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/10


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/341


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/342


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/343


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/344


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Tufts, Charles


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/11


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/12


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Tufts, Cotton


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/13

object in the preparation of this biography is to establish the claim of subject to a place; among the greatest benefactors of his race; and to demonstrate, especially to the youth of his beloved country, how a man may be both great and good, mighty in mind and pure in heart. I have endeavoured fitly to show how he persisted in the path of duty even when it led to poverty and exile; how he threw into any work he undertook his whole heart; and how, after a life of exceptional fidelity to earthly obligation, as a Christian philosopher he met and triumphed over death.

Much matter of value to such a memoir perished during the war, though more remained than I have as yet been able satisfactorily to use. From a mass of letters and other documents collected during several years by my sister, Mrs. James R. Werth, this volume has been mainly been made up; but the limits to which I felt obliged to confine myself have excluded not a little I wished it to embrace. Rh


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Tufts, John


text: Page:Abraham Lincoln address (1909).djvu/1


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/14

vi I desire gratefully to acknowledge the assistance of my cousin, Gen. Dabney H. Maury, who has furnished several graceful sketches included in the work; and of another kinsman, Col. Wm. W. Blackford, who has supplied help of a similar nature.

My sincere thanks are also due to Professor L. M. Blackford, of the Episcopal High School, near Alexander, and his talented wife, for their criticisms, alterations, and additions to this work.


text: Page:Abraham Lincoln address (1909).djvu/3


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Gookin, Charles


text:
Page:Abraham Lincoln address (1909).djvu/12

 first and frankest to acknowledge it."—(Lamon, pp. 480-1.) * * * "He did nothing out of mere gratitude, and forgot the devotion of his warmest partizans as soon as the occasion for their services passed."—Id., p. 482. * * * "Notwithstanding his overweaning ambition., and the breathless eagerness with which he pursued the objects of it, he had not a particle of sympathy with the great mass of his fellow-citizens who were engaged in similar struggles for place."—Id., p. 483.

Now mark you, this is what Lamon, his closest friend, and most ardent admirer, has to say of the "make up" of Mr. Lincoln. Is this the stuff of which the world's great characters, heroes, martyrs, and the exemplars for our children are made? Surely it would seem not, and further comment is deemed unnecessary.

One of the commonest, and one of the most attractive, claims now asserted by the admirers of Mr. Lincoln is, that he was a pious man and a Christian. Lamon tells us after his assassination he was compared to the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. One of his reverend admirers compares his assassination to the crucifixion of our Lord; and since both of these events occurred on Good Friday, this writer says "even the day was fit." But since Mr. Lincoln's "taking off" was in a theater, it may be noted that this fanatical divine says nothing as to the fitness of the place at which this "taking off' occurred.

Another divine, in an oration delivered this year on the centennial anniversary of Mr. Lincoln's birth, begins it with the words:

"There was a man sent from God whose name was Abraham Lincoln."

He then speaks of him as being "like unto Melchizedek," and as the "one great man, and mystery and miracle of the nineteenth century."

It seems to us that the real mystery here is the fact that any one anywhere should be so foolish in this enlightened age as to suppose he can make sensible people swallow any such twaddle, nonsense and sacrilege as this.

Herndon says of Mr. Lincoln's alleged Christianity:

"Lincoln was a deep-grounded infidel. He disliked and


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Gookin, Daniel


text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/521

The Law of Moving Fruits from Place to Place on a Holiday

דין שלשול פרות ביום טוב ממקום למקום

Paragraph 1 - We can drop fruits through a trapdoor (meaning, from "when your olives will drop" (Deuteronomy 28:40), as in, when fruits fall to the ground) on a holiday. One should not drop them through windows nor lower them on a ladder nor carry them from roof to roof, even if the two are the same height.

סעיף א - משילין פרות דרך ארבה, (פרוש, מן כי ישל זיתך כלומר, מפילין הפרות לארץ) יום טוב, ולא ישלשלם בחלונות ולא יורידם בסלמות ולא יטלטלם מגג לגג אף על פי שהן שוין.

Paragraph 2 - It is permitted to cover fruit, wine jugs, or bricks because of water leaking[through the roof].

סעיף ב - מתר לכסות פרות או כדי יין או לבנים מפני הדלף.

Paragraph 3 - Regarding putting a dish under dripping water, the rule on a holiday is the same as the rule on Shabbat (and see above chapter 338 paragraph 8).

סעיף ג - לתן כלי תחת הדלף, כדינו בשבת כך דינו ביום טוב (ועין לעיל סימן של"ח סעיף ח').

 * }


text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/522

Some Things that are Forbidden to Carry on a Holiday

קצת דברים האסורים לטלטל ביום טוב

Paragraph 1 - The blind man may not leave with his stick nor the shepherd with his sack (and the law of a disabled person is the same on a holiday as it is on Shabbat, see above chapter 301 paragraph 17).

סעיף א - אין הסומא יוצא במקלו ולא הרועה בתרמילו. (ודין חגר, דינו ביום טוב כמו בשבת, ועין לעיל סימן ש"א סעיף י"ז).

Paragraph 2 - Neither a man nor a woman may go out in a [carried] chair. If many people need him, it is permitted, and he may be carried on the shoulders, even in a litter.

סעיף ב - אין יוצאין בכסא, אחד האיש ואחד האשה. ואיש שהיו רבים צריכים לו, מתר, ומוציאין אותו על הכתף אפלו באפריון.

Paragraph 3 - Someone whose legs have shrunk (meaning that they have become shorter) can leave with his stick.

סעיף ג - מי שנתכוצו (פרוש, שנצמתו ונעשו קצרים) גידי שוקיו, יכול לצאת במקל.

Paragraph 4 - We do not lead an animal with a stick.

סעיף ד - אין מנהיגין בהמה במקל.

 * }


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Goodwin, William Watson


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Butt, Isaac


title: Page:Uncharter.pdf/1


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Butter, Nathaniel


text: Index:Uncharter.pdf

title: Index:Uncharter.pdf


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Butterfield, Swithun


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Butterworth, Edwin


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


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Butterworth, Joseph


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Button, William (d.1264)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Button, William (d.1274)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Button, William (d.1654)


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


text: Talk:Statute of the International Court of Justice


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/15

subject of the present biography was one whose life-story deserves to be studied and held in reverence, not only American nation which produced him, but by the whole civilised world; for the best part of his life was devoted to the performance of services which conferred benefits on the seafaring classes of all countries, while the ideas to which he first gave birth have since borne fruit, and are likely to be useful to the whole human race. In Maury we find two characteristics, each valuable in itself, but which almost invariably produce great results when they are combined. He was endowed with extraordinary powers of application and unflagging industry in working out the dryest details. But he also possessed a vivid imagination, so that the dry bones of his new science were endowed with life and interest by the magic touch of his descriptive pen. Rh


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Linus


text:
User:Linnea/Books/Natural History, Mollusca

Natural History, Mollusca

 * Natural History, Mollusca
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Mollusca
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Cephalopoda
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Dibranchiata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Pteropoda
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Gasteropoda
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Pulmonifera
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Nudibranchiata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Tectibranchiata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Cyclobranchiata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Pectinibranchiata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Conchifera
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Monomyaria
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Dimyaria
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Brachiopoda
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Tunicata
 * Natural History, Mollusca/Index


text: Cambridge Natural History Mammalia/Chapter VI


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Nahum


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Permelia Jane Marsh


text:
Charter of the United Nations and International Court of Justice

Piagam Perserikatan Bangsa-Bangsa dan Statuta Mahkamah Internasional


text: Talk:Charter of the United Nations and International Court of Justice


text: Cambridge Natural History Mammalia/Chapter VII


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Peter (officer)


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Severus


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Peter (clergyman)


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Senecio


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/41

Rh moistened his lips, for their dryness might crack them. "The—legend?"

He said the word in a curious hush of awed softness, as he had heard his Aunt Cecilia say it many times before.

"That awful legend that you"

"That I eat my children?"

"Oh, God, Father!" Arthur went to his knees as a cry burst through his lips. "Dad, that—that's ghastly! We must forget Cecilia's ravings."

"You are affected, then?" asked Doctor Duryea bitterly.

"Affected? Certainly I'm affected, but only as I should be at such an accusation. Cecilia was mad, I tell you. Those books she showed me years ago, and those folk-tales of vampires and ghouls—they burned into my infantile mind like acid. They haunted me day and night in my youth, and caused me to hate you worse than death itself.

"But in Heaven's name, Father, I've outgrown those things as I have outgrown my clothes. I'm a man now; do you understand that? A man, with a man's sense of logic."

"Yes, I understand." Henry Duryea threw his cigar into the fireplace, and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"We shall forget Cecilia," he said. "As I told you in my letter, I have rented a lodge in Maine where we can go to be alone for the rest of the summer. We'll get in some fishing and hiking and perhaps some hunting. But first, Arthur, I must be sure in my own mind that you are sure in yours. I must be sure you won't bar your door against me at night, and sleep with a loaded revolver at your elbow. I must be sure that you're not afraid of going up there alone with me, and dying——"

His voice ended abruptly, as if an age-long dread had taken hold of it. His son's face was waxen, with sweat standing out like pearls on his brow. He said nothing, but his eyes were filled with questions which his lips could not put into words. His own hand touched his father's, and tightened over it.

Henry Duryea drew his hand away.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his eyes looked straight over Arthur's lowered head. "This thing must be thrashed out now. I believe you when you say that you discredit Cecilia's stories, but for a sake greater than sanity I must tell you the truth behind the legend—and believe me, Arthur; there is a truth!"

to his feet and walked to the window which looked out over the street below. For a moment he gazed into space, silent. Then he turned and looked down at his son.

"You have heard only your aunt's version of the legend, Arthur. Doubtless it was warped into a thing far more hideous than it actually was—if that is possible! Doubtless she spoke to you of the Inquisitorial stake in Carcassonne where one of my ancestors perished. Also she may have mentioned that book, Vampyrs, which a former Duryea is supposed to have written. Then certainly she told you about your two younger brothers—my own poor, motherless children—who were sucked bloodless in their cradles"

Arthur Duryea passed a hand across his aching eyes. Those words, so often repeated by that witch of an aunt, stirred up the same visions which had made his childhood nights sleepless with terror. He could hardly bear to hear them again—and from the very man to whom they were accredited.

"Listen, Arthur," the elder Duryea went on quickly, his voice low with the pain it gave him. "You must know that true basis to your aunt's hatred. You must know of that curse—that curse of vampirism which is supposed to have


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/42

308 the Duryeas through five centuries of French history, but which we can dispel as pure superstition, so often connected with ancient families. But I must tell you that this part of the legend is true:

"Your two young brothers actually died in their cradles, bloodless. And I stood trial in France for their murder, and my name was smirched throughout all of Europe with such an inhuman damnation that it drove your aunt and you to America, and has left me childless, hated, and ostracized from society the world over.

"I must tell you that on that terrible night in Duryea Castle I had been working late on historic volumes of Crespet and Prinn, and on that loathsome tome, Vampyrs. I must tell you of the soreness that was in my throat and of the heaviness of the blood which coursed through my veins And of that presence, which was neither man nor animal, but which I knew was some place near me, yet neither within the castle nor outside of it, and which was closer to me than my heart and more terrible to me than the touch of the grave

"I was at the desk in my library, my head swimming in a delirium which left me senseless until dawn. There were nightmares that frightened me—frightened me, Arthur, a grown man who had dissected countless cadavers in morgues and medical schools. I know that my tongue was swollen in my mouth and that brine moistened my lips, and that a rottenness pervaded my body like a fever.

"I can make no recollection of sanity or of consciousness. That night remains vivid, unforgettable, yet somehow completely in shadows. When I had fallen asleep—if in God's name it was sleep—I was slumped across my desk. But when I awoke in the morning I was lying face down on my couch. So you see, Arthur, I had moved during that night, and I had never known it!

"What I'd done and where I'd gone during those dark hours will always remain an impenetrable mystery. But I do know this. On the morrow I was torn from my sleep by the shrieks of maids and butlers, and by that mad wailing of your aunt, I stumbled through the open door of my study, and in the nursery I saw those two babies there—lifeless, white and dry like mummies, and with twin holes in their necks that were caked black with their own blood

"Oh, I don't blame you for your incredulousness, Arthur. I cannot believe it yet myself, nor shall I ever believe it. The belief of it would drive me to suicide; and still the doubting of it drives me mad with horror.

"All of France was doubtful, and even the savants who defended my name at the trial found that they could not explain it nor disbelieve it. The case was quieted by the Republic, for it might have shaken science to its very foundation and split the pedestals of religion and logic. I was released from the charge of murder; but the actual murder has hung about me like a stench.

"The coroners who examined those tiny cadavers found them both dry of all their blood, but could find no blood on the floor of the nursery nor in the cradles. Something from hell stalked the halls of Duryea that night—and I should blow my brains out if I dared to think deeply of who that was. You, too, my son, would have been dead and bloodless if you hadn't been sleeping in a separate room with your door barred on the inside.

"You were a timid child, Arthur. You were only seven years old, but you were filled with the folk-lore of those mad Lombards and the decadent poetry of


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Pontius


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Pollio


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Modestinus


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Macer


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Gallus


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius Etruscus


text:
Author:Charles Henry Chomley

Fiction
Novels
 * The Wisdom of Esau (1901) (with Outhwaite, R. L. (Robert Leonard), 1869-1930) New York: Cassell & Co.
 * The Long Lost Galleon (1905)
 * Mark Meredith: A Tale of Socialism (1905)	Melbourne: Edgerton & Moore

Short story collections
 * Tales of Old Times: Early Australian Incident and Adventure (1903) Melbourne: Pater
 * The Wreck of the London, pp. 5-22
 * The Nelson Gold Robbery, pp. 23-34.
 * The Myall Creek Massacre, pp. 35-54
 * The Diamond Creek Bushrangers, pp. 55-72
 * Black Thursday, pp. 73-84
 * From the Letters of Victorian Pioneers, pp. 85-104
 * Very Early Victoria', pp. 105-126
 * A Successful Revolution, pp. 126-145
 * The Founding of Sydney, pp. 146-160

 * The Jackeroo: A Comedy in One Act  (1921)

Children’s
 * The Flight of the Black Swan: A Tale of Piracy and Adventure (1903) London: George Rutledge & Sons

Biography

 * The True Story of the Kelly Gang of Bushrangers (1900), Melbourne: Fraser & Jenkinson, 1920 (Earlier ed. 1907)

Law and society

 * Protection in Canada and Australasia (1904) London: P.S. King & Son
 * Australian pros and cons: a guide to the principal questions of the day, giving the best arguments on both sides, (1905) Melbourne: Fraser & Jenkinson
 * Law for laymen: an Australian book of legal advice and information, clear, concise and practical (1907) Melbourne: Fraser & Jenkinson
 * The essential reform: land value taxation in theory & practice (with R.L. Outhwaite), (1909) London: Sidgwick & Jackson

Journal articles

 * Various articles in the Arena and British Australasian

Works about Chomley

 * de Serville, P. H., 'Chomley, Charles Henry (1868 - 1942)', in Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 7, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1979, pp. 642-643. http://www.adb.online.anu.edu.au/biogs/A070653b.htm.

Other documents

 * University of Queensland archive

title: Author:Charles Henry Chomley


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/43

Rh your aunt. On that same night, while I was some place between heaven and hell, you, also, heard the padded footsteps on the stone corridor and heard the tugging at your door handle, for in the morning you complained of a chill and of terrible nightmares which frightened you in your sleep I only thank God that your door was barred!"

voice choked into a sob which brought the stinging tears back into his eyes. He paused to wipe his face, and to dig his fingers into his palm.

"You understand, Arthur, that for twenty years, under my sworn oath at the Palace of Justice, I could neither see you nor write to you. Twenty years, my son, while all of that time you had grown to hate me and to spit at my name. Not until your aunt's death have you called yourself a Duryea And now you come to me at my bidding, and say you love me as a son should love his father.

"Perhaps it is God's forgiveness for everything. Now, at last, we shall be together, and that terrible, unexplainable past will be buried for ever" He put his handkerchief back into his pocket and walked slowly to his son. He dropped to one knee, and his hands gripped Arthur's arms.

"My son, I can say no more to you. I have told you the truth as I alone know it. I may be, by all accounts, some ghoulish creation of Satan on earth. I may be a child-killer, a vampire, some morbidly diseased specimen of vrykolakas—things which science cannot explain.

"Perhaps the dreaded legend of the Duryeas is true. Autiel Duryea was convicted of murdering his brother in that same monstrous fashion in the year 1576, and he died in Barnes at the stake. François Duryea, in 1802, blew his head apart with a blunderbuss on the morning after his youngest son was found dead, apparently from anemia. And there are others, of whom I cannot bear to speak, that would chill your soul if you were to hear them.

"So you see, Arthur, there is a hellish tradition behind our family. There is a heritage which no sane God would ever have allowed. The future of the Duryeas lies in you, for you are the last of die race. I pray with all of my heart that providence will permit you to live your full share of years, and to leave other Duryeas behind you. And so if ever again I feel that presence as I did in Duryea Castle, I am going to die as François Duryea died, over a hundred years ago"

He stood up, and his son stood up at his side.

"If you are willing to forget, Arthur, we shall go up to that lodge in Maine. There is a life we've never known awaiting us. We must find that life, and we must find the happiness which a curious fate snatched from us on those Lombard sourlands, twenty years ago"

tall stature, coupled with a slenderness of frame and a sleekness of muscle, gave him an appearance that was unusually gaunt. His son couldn't help but think of that word as he sat on the rustic porch of the lodge, watching his father sunning himself at the lake's edge.

Henry Duryea had a kindliness in his face, at times an almost sublime kindliness which great prophets often possess. But when his face was partly in shadows, particularly about his brow, there was a frightening tone which came into his features; for it was a tone of farness, of mysticism and conjuration. Somehow, in


text:
Template:DGRBM/W.B.D.

[ W. B. D. ]

title: Template:DGRBM/W.B.D.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Herennius 16.


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Goodyear, Charles


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermeias 3.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermeias 4.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermeias 5.


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Goodwin, William Watson


text:
Template:DGRBM/J.C. M.

[J.C. M.]

title: Template:DGRBM/J.C. M.


text: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Hermericus


text:
User:Geopoet

Gil L. Gregorio is Geopoet.

title: User:Geopoet