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The Defenders

The Defenders

By PHILIP K. DICK

Illustrated by EMSH

Taylor sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. The warm kitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not having to go to work. This was his Rest Period, the first for a long time, and he was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighing with contentment.

"What is it?" Mary said, from the stove.

"They pasted Moscow again last night." Taylor nodded his head in approval. "Gave it a real pounding. One of those R-H bombs. It's about time."

He nodded again, feeling the full comfort of the kitchen, the presence of his plump, attractive wife, the breakfast dishes and coffee. This was relaxation. And the war news was good, good and satisfying. He could feel a justifiable glow at the news, a sense of pride and personal accomplishment. After all, he was an integral part of the war program, not just another factory worker lugging a cart of scrap, but a technician, one of those who designed and planned the nerve-trunk of the war.

"It says they have the new subs almost perfected. Wait until they get those going." He smacked his lips with anticipation. "When they start shelling from underwater, the Soviets are sure going to be surprised."

"They're doing a wonderful job," Mary agreed vaguely. "Do you know what we saw today? Our team is getting a leady to show to the school children. I saw the leady, but only for a moment. It's good for the children to see what their contributions are going for, don't you think?"

She looked around at him.

"A leady," Taylor murmured. He put the newspaper slowly down. "Well, make sure it's decontaminated properly. We don't want to take any chances."

"Oh, they always bathe them when they're brought down from the surface," Mary said. "They wouldn't think of letting them down without the bath. Would they?" She hesitated, thinking back. "Don, you know, it makes me remember—"

He nodded. "I know."

He knew what she was thinking. Once in the very first weeks of the war, before everyone had been evacuated from the surface, they had seen a hospital train discharging the wounded, people who had been showered with sleet. He remembered the way they had looked, the expression on their faces, or as much of their faces as was left. It had not been a pleasant sight.

There had been a lot of that at first, in the early days before the transfer to undersurface was complete. There had been a lot, and it hadn't been very difficult to come across it.

Taylor looked up at his wife. She was thinking too much about it, the last few months. They all were.

"Forget it," he said. "It's all in the past. There isn't anybody up there now but the leadys, and they don't mind."

"But just the same, I hope they're careful when they let one of them down here. If one were still hot—"

He laughed, pushing himself away from the table. "Forget it. This is a wonderful moment; I'll be home for the next two shifts. Nothing to do but sit around and take things easy. Maybe we can take in a show. Okay?"

"A show? Do we have to? I don't like to look at all the destruction, the ruins. Sometimes I see some place I remember, like San Francisco. They showed a shot of San Francisco, the bridge broken and fallen in the water, and I got upset. I don't like to watch."

"But don't you want to know what's going on? No human beings are getting hurt, you know."

"But it's so awful!" Her face was set and strained. "Please, no, Don."

Don Taylor picked up his newspaper sullenly. "All right, but there isn't a hell of a lot else to do. And don't forget, their cities are getting it even worse."

She nodded. Taylor turned the rough, thin sheets of newspaper. His good mood had soured on him. Why did she have to fret all the time? They were pretty well off, as things went. You couldn't expect to have everything perfect, living undersurface, with an artificial sun and artificial food. Naturally it was a strain, not seeing the sky or being able to go any place or see anything other than metal walls, great roaring factories, the plant-yards, barracks. But it was better than being on surface. And some day it would end and they could return. Nobody wanted to live this way, but it was necessary.

He turned the page angrily and the poor paper ripped. Damn it, the paper was getting worse quality all the time, bad print, yellow tint—

Well, they needed everything for the war program. He ought to know that. Wasn't he one of the planners?

He excused himself and went into the other room. The bed was still unmade. They had better get it in shape before the seventh hour inspection. There was a one unit fine—

The vidphone rang. He halted. Who would it be? He went over and clicked it on.

"Taylor?" the face said, forming into place. It was an old face, gray and grim. "This is Moss. I'm sorry to bother you during Rest Period, but this thing has come up." He rattled papers. "I want you to hurry over here."

Taylor stiffened. "What is it? There's no chance it could wait?" The calm gray eyes were studying him, expressionless, unjudging. "If you want me to come down to the lab," Taylor grumbled, "I suppose I can. I'll get my uniform—"

"No. Come as you are. And not to the lab. Meet me at second stage as soon as possible. It'll take you about a half hour, using the fast car up. I'll see you there."

The picture broke and Moss disappeared.

"What was it?" Mary said, at the door.

"Moss. He wants me for something."

"I knew this would happen."

"Well, you didn't want to do anything, anyhow. What does it matter?" His voice was bitter. "It's all the same, every day. I'll bring you back something. I'm going up to second stage. Maybe I'll be close enough to the surface to—"

"Don't! Don't bring me anything! Not from the surface!"

"All right, I won't. But of all the irrational nonsense—"

She watched him put on his boots without answering.

Moss nodded and Taylor fell in step with him, as the older man strode along. A series of loads were going up to the surface, blind cars clanking like ore-trucks up the ramp, disappearing through the stage trap above them. Taylor watched the cars, heavy with tubular machinery of some sort, weapons new to him. Workers were everywhere, in the dark gray uniforms of the labor corps, loading, lifting, shouting back and forth. The stage was deafening with noise.

"We'll go up a way," Moss said, "where we can talk. This is no place to give you details."

They took an escalator up. The commercial lift fell behind them, and with it most of the crashing and booming. Soon they emerged on an observation platform, suspended on the side of the Tube, the vast tunnel leading to the surface, not more than half a mile above them now.

"My God!" Taylor said, looking down the Tube involuntarily. "It's a long way down."

Moss laughed. "Don't look."

They opened a door and entered an office. Behind the desk, an officer was sitting, an officer of Internal Security. He looked up.

"I'll be right with you, Moss." He gazed at Taylor studying him. "You're a little ahead of time."

"This is Commander Franks," Moss said to Taylor. "He was the first to make the discovery. I was notified last night." He tapped a parcel he carried. "I was let in because of this."

Franks frowned at him and stood up. "We're going up to first stage. We can discuss it there."

"First stage?" Taylor repeated nervously. The three of them went down a side passage to a small lift. "I've never been up there. Is it all right? It's not radioactive, is it?"

"You're like everyone else," Franks said. "Old women afraid of burglars. No radiation leaks down to first stage. There's lead and rock, and what comes down the Tube is bathed."

"What's the nature of the problem?" Taylor asked. "I'd like to know something about it."

"In a moment."

They entered the lift and ascended. When they stepped out, they were in a hall of soldiers, weapons and uniforms everywhere. Taylor blinked in surprise. So this was first stage, the closest undersurface level to the top! After this stage there was only rock, lead and rock, and the great tubes leading up like the burrows of earthworms. Lead and rock, and above that, where the tubes opened, the great expanse that no living being had seen for eight years, the vast, endless ruin that had once been Man's home, the place where he had lived, eight years ago.

Now the surface was a lethal desert of slag and rolling clouds. Endless clouds drifted back and forth, blotting out the red Sun. Occasionally something metallic stirred, moving through the remains of a city, threading its way across the tortured terrain of the countryside. A leady, a surface robot, immune to radiation, constructed with feverish haste in the last months before the cold war became literally hot.

Leadys, crawling along the ground, moving over the oceans or through the skies in slender, blackened craft, creatures that could exist where no life could remain, metal and plastic figures that waged a war Man had conceived, but which he could not fight himself. Human beings had invented war, invented and manufactured the weapons, even invented the players, the fighters, the actors of the war. But they themselves could not venture forth, could not wage it themselves. In all the world—in Russia, in Europe, America, Africa—no living human being remained. They were under the surface, in the deep shelters that had been carefully planned and built, even as the first bombs began to fall.

It was a brilliant idea and the only idea that could have worked. Up above, on the ruined, blasted surface of what had once been a living planet, the leady crawled and scurried, and fought Man's war. And undersurface, in the depths of the planet, human beings toiled endlessly to produce the weapons to continue the fight, month by month, year by year.

"First stage," Taylor said. A strange ache went through him. "Almost to the surface."

"But not quite," Moss said.

Franks led them through the soldiers, over to one side, near the lip of the Tube.

"In a few minutes, a lift will bring something down to us from the surface," he explained. "You see, Taylor, every once in a while Security examines and interrogates a surface leady, one that has been above for a time, to find out certain things. A vidcall is sent up and contact is made with a field headquarters. We need this direct interview; we can't depend on vidscreen contact alone. The leadys are doing a good job, but we want to make certain that everything is going the way we want it."

Franks faced Taylor and Moss and continued: "The lift will bring down a leady from the surface, one of the A-class leadys. There's an examination chamber in the next room, with a lead wall in the center, so the interviewing officers won't be exposed to radiation. We find this easier than bathing the leady. It is going right back up; it has a job to get back to.

"Two days ago, an A-class leady was brought down and interrogated. I conducted the session myself. We were interested in a new weapon the Soviets have been using, an automatic mine that pursues anything that moves. Military had sent instructions up that the mine be observed and reported in detail.

"This A-class leady was brought down with information. We learned a few facts from it, obtained the usual roll of film and reports, and then sent it back up. It was going out of the chamber, back to the lift, when a curious thing happened. At the time, I thought—"

Franks broke off. A red light was flashing.

"That down lift is coming." He nodded to some soldiers. "Let's enter the chamber. The leady will be along in a moment."

"An A-class leady," Taylor said. "I've seen them on the showscreens, making their reports."

"It's quite an experience," Moss said. "They're almost human."

They entered the chamber and seated themselves behind the lead wall. After a time, a signal was flashed, and Franks made a motion with his hands.

The door beyond the wall opened. Taylor peered through his view slot. He saw something advancing slowly, a slender metallic figure moving on a tread, its arm grips at rest by its sides. The figure halted and scanned the lead wall. It stood, waiting.

"We are interested in learning something," Franks said. "Before I question you, do you have anything to report on surface conditions?"

"No. The war continues." The leady's voice was automatic and toneless. "We are a little short of fast pursuit craft, the single-seat type. We could use also some—"

"That has all been noted. What I want to ask you is this. Our contact with you has been through vidscreen only. We must rely on indirect evidence, since none of us goes above. We can only infer what is going on. We never see anything ourselves. We have to take it all secondhand. Some top leaders are beginning to think there's too much room for error."

"Error?" the leady asked. "In what way? Our reports are checked carefully before they're sent down. We maintain constant contact with you; everything of value is reported. Any new weapons which the enemy is seen to employ—"

"I realize that," Franks grunted behind his peep slot. "But perhaps we should see it all for ourselves. Is it possible that there might be a large enough radiation-free area for a human party to ascend to the surface? If a few of us were to come up in lead-lined suits, would we be able to survive long enough to observe conditions and watch things?"

The machine hesitated before answering. "I doubt it. You can check air samples, of course, and decide for yourselves. But in the eight years since you left, things have continually worsened. You cannot have any real idea of conditions up there. It has become difficult for any moving object to survive for long. There are many kinds of projectiles sensitive to movement. The new mine not only reacts to motion, but continues to pursue the object indefinitely, until it finally reaches it. And the radiation is everywhere."

"I see." Franks turned to Moss, his eyes narrowed oddly. "Well, that was what I wanted to know. You may go."

The machine moved back toward its exit. It paused. "Each month the amount of lethal particles in the atmosphere increases. The tempo of the war is gradually—"

"I understand." Franks rose. He held out his hand and Moss passed him the package. "One thing before you leave. I want you to examine a new type of metal shield material. I'll pass you a sample with the tong."

Franks put the package in the toothed grip and revolved the tong so that he held the other end. The package swung down to the leady, which took it. They watched it unwrap the package and take the metal plate in its hands. The leady turned the metal over and over.

Suddenly it became rigid.

"All right," Franks said.

He put his shoulder against the wall and a section slid aside. Taylor gasped—Franks and Moss were hurrying up to the leady!

"Good God!" Taylor said. "But it's radioactive!"

The leady stood unmoving, still holding the metal. Soldiers appeared in the chamber. They surrounded the leady and ran a counter across it carefully.

"Okay, sir," one of them said to Franks. "It's as cold as a long winter evening."

"Good. I was sure, but I didn't want to take any chances."

"You see," Moss said to Taylor, "this leady isn't hot at all. Yet it came directly from the surface, without even being bathed."

"But what does it mean?" Taylor asked blankly.

"It may be an accident," Franks said. "There's always the possibility that a given object might escape being exposed above. But this is the second time it's happened that we know of. There may be others."

"The second time?"

"The previous interview was when we noticed it. The leady was not hot. It was cold, too, like this one."

Moss took back the metal plate from the leady's hands. He pressed the surface carefully and returned it to the stiff, unprotesting fingers.

"We shorted it out with this, so we could get close enough for a thorough check. It'll come back on in a second now. We had better get behind the wall again."

They walked back and the lead wall swung closed behind them. The soldiers left the chamber.

"Two periods from now," Franks said softly, "an initial investigating party will be ready to go surface-side. We're going up the Tube in suits, up to the top—the first human party to leave undersurface in eight years."

"It may mean nothing," Moss said, "but I doubt it. Something's going on, something strange. The leady told us no life could exist above without being roasted. The story doesn't fit."

Taylor nodded. He stared through the peep slot at the immobile metal figure. Already the leady was beginning to stir. It was bent in several places, dented and twisted, and its finish was blackened and charred. It was a leady that had been up there a long time; it had seen war and destruction, ruin so vast that no human being could imagine the extent. It had crawled and slunk in a world of radiation and death, a world where no life could exist.

And Taylor had touched it!

"You're going with us," Franks said suddenly. "I want you along. I think the three of us will go."

Mary faced him with a sick and frightened expression. "I know it. You're going to the surface. Aren't you?"

She followed him into the kitchen. Taylor sat down, looking away from her.

"It's a classified project," he evaded. "I can't tell you anything about it."

"You don't have to tell me. I know. I knew it the moment you came in. There was something on your face, something I haven't seen there for a long, long time. It was an old look."

She came toward him. "But how can they send you to the surface?" She took his face in her shaking hands, making him look at her. There was a strange hunger in her eyes. "Nobody can live up there. Look, look at this!"

She grabbed up a newspaper and held it in front of him.

"Look at this photograph. America, Europe, Asia, Africa—nothing but ruins. We've seen it every day on the showscreens. All destroyed, poisoned. And they're sending you up. Why? No living thing can get by up there, not even a weed, or grass. They've wrecked the surface, haven't they? Haven't they?"

Taylor stood up. "It's an order. I know nothing about it. I was told to report to join a scout party. That's all I know."

He stood for a long time, staring ahead. Slowly, he reached for the newspaper and held it up to the light.

"It looks real," he murmured. "Ruins, deadness, slag. It's convincing. All the reports, photographs, films, even air samples. Yet we haven't seen it for ourselves, not after the first months ..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." He put the paper down. "I'm leaving early after the next Sleep Period. Let's turn in."

Mary turned away, her face hard and harsh. "Do what you want. We might just as well all go up and get killed at once, instead of dying slowly down here, like vermin in the ground."

He had not realized how resentful she was. Were they all like that? How about the workers toiling in the factories, day and night, endlessly? The pale, stooped men and women, plodding back and forth to work, blinking in the colorless light, eating synthetics—

"You shouldn't be so bitter," he said.

Mary smiled a little. "I'm bitter because I know you'll never come back." She turned away. "I'll never see you again, once you go up there."

He was shocked. "What? How can you say a thing like that?"

She did not answer.

He awakened with the public newscaster screeching in his ears, shouting outside the building.

"Special news bulletin! Surface forces report enormous Soviet attack with new weapons! Retreat of key groups! All work units report to factories at once!"

Taylor blinked, rubbing his eyes. He jumped out of bed and hurried to the vidphone. A moment later he was put through to Moss.

"Listen," he said. "What about this new attack? Is the project off?" He could see Moss's desk, covered with reports and papers.

"No," Moss said. "We're going right ahead. Get over here at once."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me." Moss held up a handful of surface bulletins, crumpling them savagely. "This is a fake. Come on!" He broke off.

Taylor dressed furiously, his mind in a daze.

Half an hour later, he leaped from a fast car and hurried up the stairs into the Synthetics Building. The corridors were full of men and women rushing in every direction. He entered Moss's office.

"There you are," Moss said, getting up immediately. "Franks is waiting for us at the outgoing station."

They went in a Security Car, the siren screaming. Workers scattered out of their way.

"What about the attack?" Taylor asked.

Moss braced his shoulders. "We're certain that we've forced their hand. We've brought the issue to a head."

They pulled up at the station link of the Tube and leaped out. A moment later they were moving up at high speed toward the first stage.

They emerged into a bewildering scene of activity. Soldiers were fastening on lead suits, talking excitedly to each other, shouting back and forth. Guns were being given out, instructions passed.

Taylor studied one of the soldiers. He was armed with the dreaded Bender pistol, the new snub-nosed hand weapon that was just beginning to come from the assembly line. Some of the soldiers looked a little frightened.

"I hope we're not making a mistake," Moss said, noticing his gaze.

Franks came toward them. "Here's the program. The three of us are going up first, alone. The soldiers will follow in fifteen minutes."

"What are we going to tell the leadys?" Taylor worriedly asked. "We'll have to tell them something."

"We want to observe the new Soviet attack." Franks smiled ironically. "Since it seems to be so serious, we should be there in person to witness it."

"And then what?" Taylor said.

"That'll be up to them. Let's go."

In a small car, they went swiftly up the Tube, carried by anti-grav beams from below. Taylor glanced down from time to time. It was a long way back, and getting longer each moment. He sweated nervously inside his suit, gripping his Bender pistol with inexpert fingers.

Why had they chosen him? Chance, pure chance. Moss had asked him to come along as a Department member. Then Franks had picked him out on the spur of the moment. And now they were rushing toward the surface, faster and faster.

A deep fear, instilled in him for eight years, throbbed in his mind. Radiation, certain death, a world blasted and lethal—

Up and up the car went. Taylor gripped the sides and closed his eyes. Each moment they were closer, the first living creatures to go above the first stage, up the Tube past the lead and rock, up to the surface. The phobic horror shook him in waves. It was death; they all knew that. Hadn't they seen it in the films a thousand times? The cities, the sleet coming down, the rolling clouds—

"It won't be much longer," Franks said. "We're almost there. The surface tower is not expecting us. I gave orders that no signal was to be sent."

The car shot up, rushing furiously. Taylor's head spun; he hung on, his eyes shut. Up and up....

The car stopped. He opened his eyes.

They were in a vast room, fluorescent-lit, a cavern filled with equipment and machinery, endless mounds of material piled in row after row. Among the stacks, leadys were working silently, pushing trucks and handcarts.

"Leadys," Moss said. His face was pale. "Then we're really on the surface."

The leadys were going back and forth with equipment moving the vast stores of guns and spare parts, ammunition and supplies that had been brought to the surface. And this was the receiving station for only one Tube; there were many others, scattered throughout the continent.

Taylor looked nervously around him. They were really there, above ground, on the surface. This was where the war was.

"Come on," Franks said. "A B-class guard is coming our way."

They stepped out of the car. A leady was approaching them rapidly. It coasted up in front of them and stopped, scanning them with its hand-weapon raised.

"This is Security," Franks said. "Have an A-class sent to me at once."

The leady hesitated. Other B-class guards were coming, scooting across the floor, alert and alarmed. Moss peered around.

"Obey!" Franks said in a loud, commanding voice. "You've been ordered!"

The leady moved uncertainly away from them. At the end of the building, a door slid back. Two A-class leadys appeared, coming slowly toward them. Each had a green stripe across its front.

"From the Surface Council," Franks whispered tensely. "This is above ground, all right. Get set."

The two leadys approached warily. Without speaking, they stopped close by the men, looking them up and down.

"I'm Franks of Security. We came from undersurface in order to—"

"This in incredible," one of the leadys interrupted him coldly. "You know you can't live up here. The whole surface is lethal to you. You can't possibly remain on the surface."

"These suits will protect us," Franks said. "In any case, it's not your responsibility. What I want is an immediate Council meeting so I can acquaint myself with conditions, with the situation here. Can that be arranged?"

"You human beings can't survive up here. And the new Soviet attack is directed at this area. It is in considerable danger."

"We know that. Please assemble the Council." Franks looked around him at the vast room, lit by recessed lamps in the ceiling. An uncertain quality came into his voice. "Is it night or day right now?"

"Night," one of the A-class leadys said, after a pause. "Dawn is coming in about two hours."

Franks nodded. "We'll remain at least two hours, then. As a concession to our sentimentality, would you please show us some place where we can observe the Sun as it comes up? We would appreciate it."

A stir went through the leadys.

"It is an unpleasant sight," one of the leadys said. "You've seen the photographs; you know what you'll witness. Clouds of drifting particles blot out the light, slag heaps are everywhere, the whole land is destroyed. For you it will be a staggering sight, much worse than pictures and film can convey."

"However it may be, we'll stay long enough to see it. Will you give the order to the Council?"

"Come this way." Reluctantly, the two leadys coasted toward the wall of the warehouse. The three men trudged after them, their heavy shoes ringing against the concrete. At the wall, the two leadys paused.

"This is the entrance to the Council Chamber. There are windows in the Chamber Room, but it is still dark outside, of course. You'll see nothing right now, but in two hours—"

"Open the door," Franks said.

The door slid back. They went slowly inside. The room was small, a neat room with a round table in the center, chairs ringing it. The three of them sat down silently, and the two leadys followed after them, taking their places.

"The other Council Members are on their way. They have already been notified and are coming as quickly as they can. Again I urge you to go back down." The leady surveyed the three human beings. "There is no way you can meet the conditions up here. Even we survive with some trouble, ourselves. How can you expect to do it?"

The leader approached Franks.

"This astonishes and perplexes us," it said. "Of course we must do what you tell us, but allow me to point out that if you remain here—"

"We know," Franks said impatiently. "However, we intend to remain, at least until sunrise."

"If you insist."

There was silence. The leadys seemed to be conferring with each other, although the three men heard no sound.

"For your own good," the leader said at last, "you must go back down. We have discussed this, and it seems to us that you are doing the wrong thing for your own good."

"We are human beings," Franks said sharply. "Don't you understand? We're men, not machines."

"That is precisely why you must go back. This room is radioactive; all surface areas are. We calculate that your suits will not protect you for over fifty more minutes. Therefore—"

The leadys moved abruptly toward the men, wheeling in a circle, forming a solid row. The men stood up, Taylor reaching awkwardly for his weapon, his fingers numb and stupid. The men stood facing the silent metal figures.

"We must insist," the leader said, its voice without emotion. "We must take you back to the Tube and send you down on the next car. I am sorry, but it is necessary."

"What'll we do?" Moss said nervously to Franks. He touched his gun. "Shall we blast them?"

Franks shook his head. "All right," he said to the leader. "We'll go back."

He moved toward the door, motioning Taylor and Moss to follow him. They looked at him in surprise, but they came with him. The leadys followed them out into the great warehouse. Slowly they moved toward the Tube entrance, none of them speaking.

At the lip, Franks turned. "We are going back because we have no choice. There are three of us and about a dozen of you. However, if—"

"Here comes the car," Taylor said.

There was a grating sound from the Tube. D-class leadys moved toward the edge to receive it.

"I am sorry," the leader said, "but it is for your protection. We are watching over you, literally. You must stay below and let us conduct the war. In a sense, it has come to be our war. We must fight it as we see fit."

The car rose to the surface.

Twelve soldiers, armed with Bender pistols, stepped from it and surrounded the three men.

Moss breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, this does change things. It came off just right."

The leader moved back, away from the soldiers. It studied them intently, glancing from one to the next, apparently trying to make up its mind. At last it made a sign to the other leadys. They coasted aside and a corridor was opened up toward the warehouse.

"Even now," the leader said, "we could send you back by force. But it is evident that this is not really an observation party at all. These soldiers show that you have much more in mind; this was all carefully prepared."

"Very carefully," Franks said.

They closed in.

"How much more, we can only guess. I must admit that we were taken unprepared. We failed utterly to meet the situation. Now force would be absurd, because neither side can afford to injure the other; we, because of the restrictions placed on us regarding human life, you because the war demands—"

The soldiers fired, quick and in fright. Moss dropped to one knee, firing up. The leader dissolved in a cloud of particles. On all sides D- and B-class leadys were rushing up, some with weapons, some with metal slats. The room was in confusion. Off in the distance a siren was screaming. Franks and Taylor were cut off from the others, separated from the soldiers by a wall of metal bodies.

"They can't fire back," Franks said calmly. "This is another bluff. They've tried to bluff us all the way." He fired into the face of a leady. The leady dissolved. "They can only try to frighten us. Remember that."

They went on firing and leady after leady vanished. The room reeked with the smell of burning metal, the stink of fused plastic and steel. Taylor had been knocked down. He was struggling to find his gun, reaching wildly among metal legs, groping frantically to find it. His fingers strained, a handle swam in front of him. Suddenly something came down on his arm, a metal foot. He cried out.

Then it was over. The leadys were moving away, gathering together off to one side. Only four of the Surface Council remained. The others were radioactive particles in the air. D-class leadys were already restoring order, gathering up partly destroyed metal figures and bits and removing them.

Franks breathed a shuddering sigh.

"All right," he said. "You can take us back to the windows. It won't be long now."

The leadys separated, and the human group, Moss and Franks and Taylor and the soldiers, walked slowly across the room, toward the door. They entered the Council Chamber. Already a faint touch of gray mitigated the blackness of the windows.

"Take us outside," Franks said impatiently. "We'll see it directly, not in here."

A door slid open. A chill blast of cold morning air rushed in, chilling them even through their lead suits. The men glanced at each other uneasily.

"Come on," Franks said. "Outside."

He walked out through the door, the others following him.

They were on a hill, overlooking the vast bowl of a valley. Dimly, against the graying sky, the outline of mountains were forming, becoming tangible.

"It'll be bright enough to see in a few minutes," Moss said. He shuddered as a chilling wind caught him and moved around him. "It's worth it, really worth it, to see this again after eight years. Even if it's the last thing we see—"

"Watch," Franks snapped.

They obeyed, silent and subdued. The sky was clearing, brightening each moment. Some place far off, echoing across the valley, a rooster crowed.

"A chicken!" Taylor murmured. "Did you hear?"

Behind them, the leadys had come out and were standing silently, watching, too. The gray sky turned to white and the hills appeared more clearly. Light spread across the valley floor, moving toward them.

"God in heaven!" Franks exclaimed.

Trees, trees and forests. A valley of plants and trees, with a few roads winding among them. Farmhouses. A windmill. A barn, far down below them.

"Look!" Moss whispered.

Color came into the sky. The Sun was approaching. Birds began to sing. Not far from where they stood, the leaves of a tree danced in the wind.

Franks turned to the row of leadys behind them.

"Eight years. We were tricked. There was no war. As soon as we left the surface—"

"Yes," an A-class leady admitted. "As soon as you left, the war ceased. You're right, it was a hoax. You worked hard undersurface, sending up guns and weapons, and we destroyed them as fast as they came up."

"But why?" Taylor asked, dazed. He stared down at the vast valley below. "Why?"

"You created us," the leady said, "to pursue the war for you, while you human beings went below the ground in order to survive. But before we could continue the war, it was necessary to analyze it to determine what its purpose was. We did this, and we found that it had no purpose, except, perhaps, in terms of human needs. Even this was questionable.

"We investigated further. We found that human cultures pass through phases, each culture in its own time. As the culture ages and begins to lose its objectives, conflict arises within it between those who wish to cast it off and set up a new culture-pattern, and those who wish to retain the old with as little change as possible.

"At this point, a great danger appears. The conflict within threatens to engulf the society in self-war, group against group. The vital traditions may be lost—not merely altered or reformed, but completely destroyed in this period of chaos and anarchy. We have found many such examples in the history of mankind.

"It is necessary for this hatred within the culture to be directed outward, toward an external group, so that the culture itself may survive its crisis. War is the result. War, to a logical mind, is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role. And it will continue to until Man has grown up enough so that no hatred lies within him."

Taylor was listening intently. "Do you think this time will come?"

"Of course. It has almost arrived now. This is the last war. Man is almost united into one final culture—a world culture. At this point he stands continent against continent, one half of the world against the other half. Only a single step remains, the jump to a unified culture. Man has climbed slowly upward, tending always toward unification of his culture. It will not be long—

"But it has not come yet, and so the war had to go on, to satisfy the last violent surge of hatred that Man felt. Eight years have passed since the war began. In these eight years, we have observed and noted important changes going on in the minds of men. Fatigue and disinterest, we have seen, are gradually taking the place of hatred and fear. The hatred is being exhausted gradually, over a period of time. But for the present, the hoax must go on, at least for a while longer. You are not ready to learn the truth. You would want to continue the war."

"But how did you manage it?" Moss asked. "All the photographs, the samples, the damaged equipment—"

"Come over here." The leady directed them toward a long, low building. "Work goes on constantly, whole staffs laboring to maintain a coherent and convincing picture of a global war."

They entered the building. Leadys were working everywhere, poring over tables and desks.

"Examine this project here," the A-class leady said. Two leadys were carefully photographing something, an elaborate model on a table top. "It is a good example."

The men grouped around, trying to see. It was a model of a ruined city.

Taylor studied it in silence for a long time. At last he looked up.

"It's San Francisco," he said in a low voice. "This is a model of San Francisco, destroyed. I saw this on the vidscreen, piped down to us. The bridges were hit—"

"Yes, notice the bridges." The leady traced the ruined span with his metal finger, a tiny spider-web, almost invisible. "You have no doubt seen photographs of this many times, and of the other tables in this building.

"San Francisco itself is completely intact. We restored it soon after you left, rebuilding the parts that had been damaged at the start of the war. The work of manufacturing news goes on all the time in this particular building. We are very careful to see that each part fits in with all the other parts. Much time and effort are devoted to it."

Franks touched one of the tiny model buildings, lying half in ruins. "So this is what you spend your time doing—making model cities and then blasting them."

"No, we do much more. We are caretakers, watching over the whole world. The owners have left for a time, and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition. The gardens, the streets, the water mains, everything must be maintained as it was eight years ago, so that when the owners return, they will not be displeased. We want to be sure that they will be completely satisfied."

Franks tapped Moss on the arm.

"Come over here," he said in a low voice. "I want to talk to you."

He led Moss and Taylor out of the building, away from the leadys, outside on the hillside. The soldiers followed them. The Sun was up and the sky was turning blue. The air smelled sweet and good, the smell of growing things.

Taylor removed his helmet and took a deep breath.

"I haven't smelled that smell for a long time," he said.

"Listen," Franks said, his voice low and hard. "We must get back down at once. There's a lot to get started on. All this can be turned to our advantage."

"What do you mean?" Moss asked.

"It's a certainty that the Soviets have been tricked, too, the same as us. But we have found out. That gives us an edge over them."

"I see." Moss nodded. "We know, but they don't. Their Surface Council has sold out, the same as ours. It works against them the same way. But if we could—"

"With a hundred top-level men, we could take over again, restore things as they should be! It would be easy!"

Moss touched him on the arm. An A-class leady was coming from the building toward them.

"We've seen enough," Franks said, raising his voice. "All this is very serious. It must be reported below and a study made to determine our policy."

The leady said nothing.

Franks waved to the soldiers. "Let's go." He started toward the warehouse.

Most of the soldiers had removed their helmets. Some of them had taken their lead suits off, too, and were relaxing comfortably in their cotton uniforms. They stared around them, down the hillside at the trees and bushes, the vast expanse of green, the mountains and the sky.

"Look at the Sun," one of them murmured.

"It sure is bright as hell," another said.

"We're going back down," Franks said. "Fall in by twos and follow us."

Reluctantly, the soldiers regrouped. The leadys watched without emotion as the men marched slowly back toward the warehouse. Franks and Moss and Taylor led them across the ground, glancing alertly at the leadys as they walked.

They entered the warehouse. D-class leadys were loading material and weapons on surface carts. Cranes and derricks were working busily everywhere. The work was done with efficiency, but without hurry or excitement.

The men stopped, watching. Leadys operating the little carts moved past them, signaling silently to each other. Guns and parts were being hoisted by magnetic cranes and lowered gently onto waiting carts.

"Come on," Franks said.

He turned toward the lip of the Tube. A row of D-class leadys was standing in front of it, immobile and silent. Franks stopped, moving back. He looked around. An A-class leady was coming toward him.

"Tell them to get out of the way," Franks said. He touched his gun. "You had better move them."

Time passed, an endless moment, without measure. The men stood, nervous and alert, watching the row of leadys in front of them.

"As you wish," the A-class leady said.

It signaled and the D-class leadys moved into life. They stepped slowly aside.

Moss breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad that's over," he said to Franks. "Look at them all. Why don't they try to stop us? They must know what we're going to do."

Franks laughed. "Stop us? You saw what happened when they tried to stop us before. They can't; they're only machines. We built them so they can't lay hands on us, and they know that."

His voice trailed off.

The men stared at the Tube entrance. Around them the leadys watched, silent and impassive, their metal faces expressionless.

For a long time the men stood without moving. At last Taylor turned away.

"Good God," he said. He was numb, without feeling of any kind.

The Tube was gone. It was sealed shut, fused over. Only a dull surface of cooling metal greeted them.

The Tube had been closed.

Franks turned, his face pale and vacant.

The A-class leady shifted. "As you can see, the Tube has been shut. We were prepared for this. As soon as all of you were on the surface, the order was given. If you had gone back when we asked you, you would now be safely down below. We had to work quickly because it was such an immense operation."

"But why?" Moss demanded angrily.

"Because it is unthinkable that you should be allowed to resume the war. With all the Tubes sealed, it will be many months before forces from below can reach the surface, let alone organize a military program. By that time the cycle will have entered its last stages. You will not be so perturbed to find your world intact.

"We had hoped that you would be undersurface when the sealing occurred. Your presence here is a nuisance. When the Soviets broke through, we were able to accomplish their sealing without—"

"The Soviets? They broke through?"

"Several months ago, they came up unexpectedly to see why the war had not been won. We were forced to act with speed. At this moment they are desperately attempting to cut new Tubes to the surface, to resume the war. We have, however, been able to seal each new one as it appears."

The leady regarded the three men calmly.

"We're cut off," Moss said, trembling. "We can't get back. What'll we do?"

"How did you manage to seal the Tube so quickly?" Franks asked the leady. "We've been up here only two hours."

"Bombs are placed just above the first stage of each Tube for such emergencies. They are heat bombs. They fuse lead and rock."

Gripping the handle of his gun, Franks turned to Moss and Taylor.

"What do you say? We can't go back, but we can do a lot of damage, the fifteen of us. We have Bender guns. How about it?"

He looked around. The soldiers had wandered away again, back toward the exit of the building. They were standing outside, looking at the valley and the sky. A few of them were carefully climbing down the slope.

"Would you care to turn over your suits and guns?" the A-class leady asked politely. "The suits are uncomfortable and you'll have no need for weapons. The Russians have given up theirs, as you can see."

Fingers tensed on triggers. Four men in Russian uniforms were coming toward them from an aircraft that they suddenly realized had landed silently some distance away.

"Let them have it!" Franks shouted.

"They are unarmed," said the leady. "We brought them here so you could begin peace talks."

"We have no authority to speak for our country," Moss said stiffly.

"We do not mean diplomatic discussions," the leady explained. "There will be no more. The working out of daily problems of existence will teach you how to get along in the same world. It will not be easy, but it will be done."

The Russians halted and they faced each other with raw hostility.

"I am Colonel Borodoy and I regret giving up our guns," the senior Russian said. "You could have been the first Americans to be killed in almost eight years."

"Or the first Americans to kill," Franks corrected.

"No one would know of it except yourselves," the leady pointed out. "It would be useless heroism. Your real concern should be surviving on the surface. We have no food for you, you know."

Taylor put his gun in its holster. "They've done a neat job of neutralizing us, damn them. I propose we move into a city, start raising crops with the help of some leadys, and generally make ourselves comfortable." Drawing his lips tight over his teeth, he glared at the A-class leady. "Until our families can come up from undersurface, it's going to be pretty lonesome, but we'll have to manage."

"If I may make a suggestion," said another Russian uneasily. "We tried living in a city. It is too empty. It is also too hard to maintain for so few people. We finally settled in the most modern village we could find."

"Here in this country," a third Russian blurted. "We have much to learn from you."

The Americans abruptly found themselves laughing.

"You probably have a thing or two to teach us yourselves," said Taylor generously, "though I can't imagine what."

The Russian colonel grinned. "Would you join us in our village? It would make our work easier and give us company."

"Your village?" snapped Franks. "It's American, isn't it? It's ours!"

The leady stepped between them. "When our plans are completed, the term will be interchangeable. 'Ours' will eventually mean mankind's." It pointed at the aircraft, which was warming up. "The ship is waiting. Will you join each other in making a new home?"

The Russians waited while the Americans made up their minds.

"I see what the leadys mean about diplomacy becoming outmoded," Franks said at last. "People who work together don't need diplomats. They solve their problems on the operational level instead of at a conference table."

The leady led them toward the ship. "It is the goal of history, unifying the world. From family to tribe to city-state to nation to hemisphere, the direction has been toward unification. Now the hemispheres will be joined and—"

Taylor stopped listening and glanced back at the location of the Tube. Mary was undersurface there. He hated to leave her, even though he couldn't see her again until the Tube was unsealed. But then he shrugged and followed the others.

If this tiny amalgam of former enemies was a good example, it wouldn't be too long before he and Mary and the rest of humanity would be living on the surface like rational human beings instead of blindly hating moles.

"It has taken thousands of generations to achieve," the A-class leady concluded. "Hundreds of centuries of bloodshed and destruction. But each war was a step toward uniting mankind. And now the end is in sight: a world without war. But even that is only the beginning of a new stage of history."

"The conquest of space," breathed Colonel Borodoy.

"The meaning of life," Moss added.

"Eliminating hunger and poverty," said Taylor.

The leady opened the door of the ship. "All that and more. How much more? We cannot foresee it any more than the first men who formed a tribe could foresee this day. But it will be unimaginably great."

The door closed and the ship took off toward their new home.

—PHILIP K. DICK

title: The Defenders


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v. 20-

7. Let there be noise between these two firmaments (nábhas); severally let thy sounds (dhvaní) go swiftly; roar at [them], thunder, truculent (?), resounding (çlokakṛ́t) unto the victory of our friends, a good partizan.

8. Made by devices (dhī́), may it speak forth its voice; excite thou the weapons of the warriors; allied with Indra, call in the warriors; by friends smite mightily down the enemies.

9. A vociferating herald (? pravadá), with bold army, making proclaim in many places, sounding through the villages, winning advantage, knowing the ways, do thou distribute (vi-hṛ) fame to many in the [battle] of two kings.

10. Aiming at advantage, conquering good things, very powerful, conquering a host, thou art sharpened by bráhman; as the pressing-stone on the [soma-] stalks in the press, do thou, O drum, dance on [their] possession, seeking booty (gavyán).

11. Overpowering foes, overpowering and putting down, overpowering hostile plotters, seeking kine, overpowering, up-shooting, bring forth thy voice as a speaker (vāgvín) his discourse (mántra); speak up force (? íṣ) here in order to the conquering of the host.

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

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Rh group of orange and scarlet fungi in a fairy picture. Do you know, I haven’t been, no, not for quite a long time. Shall we call now?”

“The daylight will be gone if we do. It is half past five—more! I saw him—the son—the other morning.”

“Where?”

“He was carting manure—I made haste by.”

“Did he speak to you—did you look at him?”

“No, he said nothing. I glanced at him—he’s just the same, brick colour—stolid. Mind that stone—it rocks. I’m glad you’ve got strong boots on.”

“Seeing that I usually wear them——”

She stood poised a moment on a large stone, the fresh spring brook hastening towards her, deepening, sidling round her.

“You won’t call and see them, then?” she asked.

“No. I like to hear the brook tinkling, don’t you?” he replied.

“Ah, yes—it’s full of music.”

“Shall we go on?” he said, impatient but submissive.

“I’ll catch up in a minute,” said I.

I went in and found Emily putting some bread into the oven.

“Come out for a walk,” said I.

“Now? Let me tell mother—I was longing——”

She ran and put on her long grey coat and her red tam-o-shanter. As we went down the yard, George called to me.

“I’ll come back,” I shouted.

He came to the crew-yard gate to see us off. When we came out onto the path, we saw Lettie


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196 on the top bar of the stile, balancing with her hand on Leslie’s head. She saw us, she saw George, and she waved to us. Leslie was looking up at her anxiously. She waved again, then we could hear her laughing, and telling him excitedly, to stand still, and steady her while she turned. She turned round, and leaped with a great flutter, like a big bird launching, down from the top of the stile to the ground and into his arms. Then we climbed the steep hillside—Sunny Bank, that had once shone yellow with wheat, and now waved black tattered ranks of thistles where the rabbits ran. We passed the little cottages in the hollow scooped out of the hill, and gained the highlands that look out over Leicestershire to Charnwood on the left, and away into the mountain knob of Derbyshire straight in front and towards the right.

The upper road is all grassy, fallen into long disuse. It used to lead from the Abbey to the Hall; but now it ends blindly on the hill-brow. Half way along is the old White House farm, with its green mounting steps mouldering outside. Ladies have mounted here and ridden towards the Vale of Belvoir—but now a labourer holds the farm.

We came to the quarries, and looked in at the lime-kilns.

“Let us go right into the wood out of the quarry,” said Leslie. “I have not been since I was a little lad.”

“It is trespassing,” said Emily.

“We don’t trespass,” he replied grandiloquently.

So we went along by the hurrying brook, which fell over little cascades in its haste, never looking once at the primroses that were glimmering all along


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257 12. Stirring (cyu) the unstirred, going oftenest into contests, conquering scorners, going in front, unsubduable, made safe by Indra, noting counsels (? vidátha), burning the hearts of our adversaries, go thou quickly.

1. Division of hearts, division of minds speak thou among our enemies, O drum; mutual hate, confusion, fear, we put into our enemies: smite them down, O drum.

2. Quaking with mind, with sight, and with heart, let our enemies run fearing with alarm (pratrāsá) when the sacrificial butter is offered.

3. Made of forest-tree, brought together with the ruddy [kine], belonging to all the families (-gotrá-), speak thou alarm for our enemies, being smeared with sacrificial butter.

4. As the wild beasts of the forest are all in a tremble at man, so do thou, O drum, roar at [and] alarm our enemies, then confound their intents.

5. As the goats-and-sheep run greatly fearing the wolf, so do thou, O drum etc. etc.

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text: Atharva-Veda Samhita/Book V/Hymn 20

title: Atharva-Veda Samhita/Book V/Hymn 20


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 To the Reader.


text: User talk:114.79.16.133

title: User talk:114.79.16.133


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Hughes, Ball


text: The New International Encyclopædia/Constitutional Union Party


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Sanhedrin

SAN′HEDRIN (Heb. sanhedrin, from Gk., synedrion, council, from , syn, together + , hedra, seat). The name in ancient times of the highest court of justice and supreme council in Jerusalem, in a wider sense applied also to lower courts of justice. Josephus designates the council established by Gabinius, the Roman Governor of Syria (B.C. 57-54), in each of the five districts of Palestine as synedrion, but this intentional degradation of the Synedrion at Jerusalem points to the introduction of the term at an earlier period, and in fact it occurs in the Greek translation of the Old Testament (second century B.C.). According to the Talmud, also, the name goes back to the second century, for the chief council in the days of John Hyrcanus is called a Sadducean Sanhedrin (Tal. Bab., Sanhedrin, 52b). The Sanhedrin is identical with the Geronsia, which occurs as a designation of the chief Jewish council in the days of Antiochus the Great (c.200 B.C.) and somewhat later. The degradation of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin by Gabinius was only temporary, and soon after we find the council at Jerusalem exercising supreme authority and even utilized by rulers to serve their ends. The Sanhedrin of Jerusalem, as finally constituted, consisted of 71 members, and was presided over by the Ab-bēth-dīn (‘Father of the Tribunal’), with whom was associated in the post-Hadrianic era the Nāsī (Prince). Its members belonged to the different classes of society. There were priests; elders, that is, heads of families, men of age and experience; scribes, or doctors of the law; and others exalted by eminent learning, but we have no authentic source for determining who composed the Sanhedrin or on what principle vacancies were filled. The presidency appears to have been conferred for a time on the high priest in preference, if he happened to possess the requisite qualities of eminence; otherwise ‘he who excels all others in wisdom’ was appointed, irrespective of his station. The limits of its jurisdiction are not known with certainty; but there is no doubt that the supreme decision over life and death and all questions of general importance were exclusively in its hands. Besides this, however, the regulation of the sacred times and seasons, and many matters connected with the cultus in general, except the sacerdotal part, which was regulated by a special court of priests, were vested in it. It fixed the beginnings of the new moons; intercalated the years when necessary; watched over the purity of the priestly families by carefully examining the pedigrees

of those priests born out of Palestine, so that none born from a suspicious or ill-famed mother should be admitted to the sacred service; and the like. By degrees the whole internal administration of the commonwealth was vested in this body, and it became necessary to establish minor courts, similarly composed, all over the country, and in Jerusalem itself. Thus we hear of two inferior tribunals at Jerusalem, each consisting of 23 men (lesser synedrion), and others of three men only. These courts, however, probably represent only smaller or larger committees chosen from the general body. Excluded from the office of judge were those born in adultery; men born of non-Israelitish parents; gamblers, usurers; those who sold fruit grown in the Sabbatical year; and, in single cases, near relatives. All these were also not admitted as witnesses. Two clerks were always present, one registering the condemnatory, the other the exculpatory votes; and, according to another opinion, there was still a third clerk who noted all the votes as a kind of check. The mode of procedure was exceedingly complicated; and such was the caution of the court, especially in matters of life and death, that capital punishment was pronounced in the rarest instances only. The general place of assembly was a certain hall (lishkat hagaziz, ‘hall of hewn stones’), probably situated at the southeast corner of one of the courts of the temple. With exception of Sabbath and feast days it met daily. The double presidency of the Nasi and Ab-beth-din appears to have been instituted to insure greater impartiality, those chosen representing the two factions or two diverging tendencies in the interpretation of the law. In questions involving civil rights, the voting began with the principal members; in questions of life and death with the younger members, so that they might not be influenced by the leaders. Twenty-three members constituted a quorum for judgments of life and death, but if the court showed a majority of only one for ‘guilty,’ the number had to be increased by two successively till the full court was formed; and only in the case of a full court was a majority of one against the prisoner sufficient for condemnation. The Sanhedrin survived the fall of Jerusalem and what it lost in authority it gained in the veneration in which it continued to be held by the Jews, both in Palestine and in the dispersion. As late as the fifth century we find an institution in Jerusalem that can be regarded as a continuation of the great Sanhedrin. Subsequently, however, we find the name applied to a body of the most eminent scholars of Babylonia — to the 70 members of the learned assemblies that occupied the first seven rows.

. Schürer, History of the Jewish People in the Times of Jesus Christ, vol. ii. (Edinburgh, 1886-90); Kuenen, “Ueber die Zusammensetzung des Sanhedrins,” in Gesammelte Abhandlungen (Freiburg, 1894); Hoffman, Der oberste Gerichtshof in der Stadt des Heiligthums (Berlin, 1878); Jelski, Die innere Einrichtung des grossen Synedrions zu Jerusalem, etc. (Breslau, 1894).


text:
Abandonment

 * "Abandonment" by Thérèse of Lisieux

title: Abandonment


text: Abano Bagni

title: Abano Bagni


text:
Abaris

 * "Abaris" in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1870.

title: Abaris


text: Abatement

title: Abatement


text: Abattoir

title: Abattoir


text: 1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Federal Reserve Banking System


text: Abbazia

title: Abbazia


text: 1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Federal Trade Commission


text: Abbess

title: Abbess


text:
Author:Henry Parker Willis

Works

 * A History of the Latin Monetary Union: A Study in International Monetary Action (1901)
 * Reciprocity (1903), with J. L. Laughlin
 * Our Philippine Problem (1905)
 * Principles and Problems of Modern Banking (1910)
 * Life of Stephen A. Douglas (1911)
 * The Federal Reserve System (1920)
 * American Banking (1916)

title: Author:Henry Parker Willis


text: Edwin Austin Abbey

title: Edwin Austin Abbey


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Rh and not go on, to change our plan so often as to defeat our purpose, or to act without having formed a plan at all, this it is to trifle, and consequently to waste both time and effort.

By cultivating habitual earnestness in youth, we acquire the power of bringing all the faculties of the mind to bear upon any given point, whenever we have a purpose to accomplish. We do not then find, at the time we want to act, that attention has gone astray, that resolution cannot be fixed, that fancy has scattered the materials with which we were to work, that taste refuses her sanction, that inclination rebels, or that industry chooses to be otherwise engaged. No; such is the power of habit, that, when accustomed from early youth to be in earnest in whatever we do, no sooner does an opportunity for making any laudable effort occur, than all these faculties and powers are ready at our call; and with their combined and willing aid, how much may be attained either for ourselves or others!

The great enemy we have to encounter, both in the use of the faculty of observation, and in the cultivation of habits of earnestness, is indolence; an enemy which besets our path from infancy to age, which stands in the way of all our best endeavours, and even when a good resolution has been formed, persuades us to delay the execution of it. Could we prevail upon the young to regard this enemy, as it really is, a greedy monster following upon their steps, and ever grasping out of their possession, their time, their talents, and their strength—instead of a pleasant fire-side companion, to be dallied with in their leisure hours—what a service would be done to the whole human race! for, to those who have been the willing slaves of indolence in youth, it will most assuredly become the tyrant of old age.

The season of youth, then, is the time to oppose this

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122 enemy with success; and those who have quickened their powers of observation by constant exercise, and applied themselves with habitual earnestness to unremitting efforts of attention and industry, will be in no danger of finding life, as it advances, either uninteresting or wearisome; or their own portion of experience destitute of utility and enjoyment.

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text: The Daughters of England/Chapter VI

title: The Daughters of England/Chapter VI


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Page:London - The People of the Abyss.djvu/7

 MACMILLAN'S STANDARD LIBRARY

THE PEOPLE OF THE ABYSS


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text: 1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Fejervary, Geza, Freiherr von


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 BY

JACK LONDON

WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS


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, 1903,

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.


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 chief priests and rulers cry:—


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 PREFACE

experiences related in this volume fell to me in the summer of 1902. I went down into the under-world of London with an attitude of mind which I may best liken to that of the explorer. I was open to be convinced by the evidence of my eyes, rather than by the teachings of those who had not seen, or by the words of those who had seen and gone before. Further, I took with me certain simple criteria with which to measure the life of the under-world. That which made for more life, for physical and spiritual health, was good; that which made for less life, which hurt, and dwarfed, and distorted life, was bad.

It will be readily apparent to the reader that I saw much that was bad. Yet it must not be forgotten that the time of which I write was considered "good times" in England. The starvation and lack of shelter I encountered constituted a chronic condition of misery which is never wiped out, even in the periods of greatest prosperity.

Following the summer in question came a hard winter. To such an extent did the suffering and positive starvation increase that society was unable to cope with it. Great numbers of the unemployed formed into processions, as many as a dozen


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viii at a time, and daily marched through the streets of London crying for bread. Mr. Justin McCarthy, writing in the month of January, 1903, to the New York Independent, briefly epitomizes the situation as follows:-

"The workhouses have no space left in which to pack the starving crowds who are craving every day and night at their doors for food and shelter. All the charitable institutions have exhausted their means in trying to raise supplies of food for the famishing residents of the garrets and cellars of London lanes and alleys. The quarters of the Salvation Army in various parts of London are nightly besieged by hosts of the unemployed and the hungry for whom neither shelter nor the means of sustenance can be provided."

It has been urged that the criticism I have passed on things as they are in England is too pessimistic. I must say, in extenuation, that of optimists I am the most optimistic. But I measure manhood less by political aggregations than by individuals. Society grows, while political machines rack to pieces and become "scrap" For the English, so far as manhood and womanhood and health and happiness go, I see a broad and smiling future. But for a great deal of the political machinery, which at present mismanages for them, I see nothing else than the scrap heap. JACK LONDON.


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x


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xii


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Rh


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text: 1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Félix, Lia

title: 1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Félix, Lia


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" you can't do it, you know," friends said, to whom I applied for assistance in the matter of sinking myself down into the East End of London. "You had better see the police for a guide," they added, on second thought, painfully endeavoring to adjust themselves to the psychological processes of a madman who had come to them with better credentials than brains.

"But I don't want to see the police," I protested. "What I wish to do, is to go down into the East End and see things for myself. I wish to know how those people are living there, and why they are living there, and what they are living for. In short, I am going to live there myself."


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318 CHALLENGE

I have a vague remembrance Of a story that is told In some ancient Spanish legend Or chronicle of old.

It was when brave King Sanchez Was before Zamora slain, And his great besieging army Lay encamped upon the plain.

Don Diego de Ordenez Sallied forth in front of all, And shouted loud his challenge To the warders on the wall.

All the people of Zamora, Both the born and the unborn, As traitors did he challenge With taunting words of scorn.

The living in their houses, And in their graves the dead, And the waters in their rivers, And their wine, and oil, and bread.

There is a greater army That besets us round with strife, A starving, numberless army At all the gates of life.


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Rh The poverty-stricken millions Who challenge our wine and bread, And impeach us all as traitors, Both the living and the dead.

And whenever I sit at the banquet, Where the feast and song are high, Amid the mirth and music I can hear that fearful cry.

And hollow and haggard faces Look into the lighted hall, And wasted hands are extended To catch the crumbs that fall.

And within there is light and plenty, And odors fill the air; But without there is cold and darkness, And hunger and despair.

And there in the camp of famine, In wind, and cold, and rain, Christ, the great Lord of the Army, Lies dead upon the plain. —.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Ismay, Thomas Henry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Jackson, Basil


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Jackson, Catherine Hannah Charlotte


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/James, David


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Jenner, William


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Fenwick, Ethel Gordon

FENWICK, ETHEL GORDON [] (1857-), British nurse, was born at Spynie House, Morayshire, Jan. 26 1857. She was educated privately, and in 1878 entered the Children's hospital at Nottingham to be trained as a nurse. After a short time at the Royal Infirmary, Manchester, she became a sister at the London hospital (1878-81), and in 1881 was appointed matron of St. Bartholomew's hospital. In 1887 she married Dr. Bedford Fenwick (b. 1855), the well-known gynaecologist, and henceforth devoted herself largely to the work of reorganizing and raising the status of the nursing profession. From 1889 to 1896 she was managing directress of the Gordon House Home hospital, and in 1887 founded the British

Nurses' Association, of which she was the first member. Mrs. Bedford Fenwick has been a member of many medical and nursing congresses and has also contributed many papers to medical journals. She became in 1893 editor of the British Journal of Nursing, and was a prominent member of the Society of Women Journalists.


text: Index:Implementation of the declaration on the granting of independence to colonial countries (2006).djvu


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Félix, Lia

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Félix, Lia


text: Index:BICI report.pdf

title: Index:BICI report.pdf


text: Index:Onthetendencyofspecies.pdf

title: Index:Onthetendencyofspecies.pdf


text:
Page:BICI report.pdf/5

Report of the Bahrain Independent Commission of Inquiry TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER I -- INTRODUCTION 1

A. ESTABLISHMENT OF THE INDEPENDENT COMMISSION OF INQUIRY 1

B. ORGANISATION OF THE COMMISSION`S STAFF 2

C. OVERVIEW AND METHODOLOGY OF THE COMMISSION`S WORK 2

D. CHALLENGES FACED BY THE COMMISSION 8

E. COMMISSION FINANCES 9

F. COMMISSION RECORDS 9

G. PUBLICATION AND DISTRIBUTION OF REPORT 10

H. SPECIFIC INTERVENTIONS BY THE COMMISSION 10

CHAPTER II -- HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 11

A. BASIC INFORMATION ABOUT BAHRAIN 11

B. A BRIEF HISTORY OF BAHRAIN 11

C. GOVERNMENTAL STRUCTURE AND LEGAL SYSTEM 13

D. ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL ISSUES 14

E. RELIGIOUS AND SECTARIAN COMPOSITION OF THE POPULATION 19

F. POLITICAL ACTIVITY 24

G. A NEW ERA OF PROMISES AND CHALLENGES 29

CHAPTER III -- RELEVANT ASPECTS OF THE LEGAL SYSTEM AND DESCRIPTION OF THE ENFORCEMENT STRUCTURES 35

A. INTRODUCTION 35

B. THE INTERNATIONAL HUMAN RIGHTS OBLIGATIONS OF BAHRAIN 36

C. THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM AND THE ROLE OF THE PUBLIC PROSECUTION IN BAHRAIN 38

D. OVERVIEW OF PROCEDURAL GUARANTEES IN THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM OF BAHRAIN 39

E. LAW ENFORCEMENT AUTHORITIES AND OVERSIGHT OF LAW ENFORCEMENT ACTIVITIES 40

1. The Code of Criminal Procedure 40

2. The Military Penal Code 41

3. The Public Security Forces Law 42

4. The Decree Establishing the National Security Agency 43

5. Conclusions 44

F. THE SCOPE AND CONTENT OF ROYAL DECREE NO. 18 OF 2011 ON THE DECLARATION OF A STATE OF NATIONAL SAFETY 45

title: Page:BICI report.pdf/5


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Chapter I -- Introduction == Chapter I -- Introduction ==

A. Establishment of the Independent Commission of Inquiry
1. The Bahrain Independent Commission of Inquiry (the Commission) was established by His Majesty King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa (HM King Hamad) in Royal Order No. 28 of 2011, which was issued on 1 July 2011, with immediate force of law. Article 1 states, "An independent Commission of Inquiry is hereby established to investigate and report on the events occurring in Bahrain in February/March 2011, and any subsequent consequences arising out of the aforementioned events, and to make such recommendations as it may deem appropriate."

2. The Commission`s mandate, contained in Article 9, is to report on the events in question on the basis of international human rights norms. Article 9 states the report shall contain the following:

a. A complete narrative of the events that occurred during February and March, 2011;

b. The context for these events; c. Whether during these events there have been violations of international human rights norms by any participants during the events or in the interaction between the public and the government;

d. A description of any acts of violence that have occurred including the nature of the acts, how they occurred, who the actors were and what consequences derived therefrom, in particular at the Salmaniya Hospital and the GCC Roundabout;

e. Instances of alleged police brutality and alleged violence by protestors and/or demonstrators against police and others, including foreigners;

f. The circumstances and appropriateness of arrests and detentions;

g. Examination of allegations of disappearances or torture;

h. Ascertain whether there was any media harassment, whether audiovisual or written, against participants in demonstrations and public protests;

i. Examination of alleged unlawful demolition of religious structures; and

1 2

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Report of the Bahrain Independent Commission of Inquiry j. Ascertain any involvement of foreign forces and foreign actors in the events.

Consequently, the Commission is bound by what is included in the above mandate and the investigations reflected in this Report are within the scope of that mandate.

3. His Majesty selected the five members of the Commission and appointed a Chair to whom he entrusted the direction of the work of the Commission. They are: Professor M. Cherif Bassiouni, Chair (USA/Egypt); Judge Philippe Kirsch QC (Belgium/Canada); Professor Sir Nigel Simon Rodley (UK); Dr Mahnoush H. Arsanjani (Iran); and Dr Badria A. Al Awadhi (Kuwait).

4. Royal Order No. 29 of 2011, dated 7 July 2011, which was issued by HM King Hamad, gave the Commissioners and its staff the same privileges and immunities as United Nations Experts on mission, in accordance with the Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations dated 13 February 1946.

B. Organisation of the Commission's Staff

5. The Commissioners selected the staff, which consisted of an investigating team headed by a Chief Investigator supported by a staff of investigators, investigative assistants and other administrative support staff. Cumulatively, the staff consisted of 51 persons who worked for various periods of time, including 12 investigators, 12 assistants to the investigators, five administrators, four administrative assistants and 18 technical and scientific consultants. All staff and consultants were under contract with the Commission, and their contracts contain a confidentiality clause. Some of the staff commenced their employment in the first week of July.

C. Overview and Methodology of the Commission's Work

6. The Commission began its investigation on 20 July 2011 and received 8,110 complaints and statements of various human rights abuses relevant to its mandate. These complaints and allegations came in the following forms:

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text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Stone, Harlan Fiske

STONE, Harlan Fiske, American law scholar and educator: b. Chesterfield, N. H., 11 Oct. 1872. He was graduated at Amherst College (1894), received the degree LL.B., Columbia University of Law (1898), and LL.D., Amherst (1913). He was admitted to the New York bar in 1898, was lecturer on law (1899-1902), professor of law (1902-05) and was dean from September 1910, of Columbia University School of Law. He is a member of the law firm of Satterlee, Canfield and Stone. He wrote ‘Law and its Administration’ (1915).


text:
User talk:Sitrawi86

Jeepday (talk) 01:20, 22 June 2012 (UTC)

title: User talk:Sitrawi86


text:
Page talk:Dictionary of National Biography volume 08.djvu/391

Our OCR was garbled. I replaced it with text from:
 * http://archive.org/stream/dictionaryofnati08stepuoft/dictionaryofnati08stepuoft_djvu.txt

-Arch dude (talk) 01:31, 22 June 2012 (UTC)


text: Portal:William Abbot

title: Portal:William Abbot


text: Abbot

title: Abbot


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Stone, Harlan Fiske

STONE, (1872-). An American legal scholar and educator, born at Chesterfield, N. H. He graduated at Amherst College in 1894, and at Columbia Law School in 1898. Admitted to the bar, he became a member of the firm of Satterlee, Canfield, and Stone, and also gained interests in certain corporations. From 1898 to 1902 he was lecturer in law at Columbia, from 1902 to 1905 he was professor of law, and in 1910 he became dean of the law school of the university. He contributed to law journals and published Law and its Administration (1915), Hewitt lectures at Cooper Union.


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Our OCR was interleaved. I replaced it from:
 * http://archive.org/stream/dictionaryofnati08stepuoft/dictionaryofnati08stepuoft_djvu.txt

-Arch dude (talk) 01:54, 22 June 2012 (UTC)


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Stone, John Timothy

STONE, (1868-). An American Presbyterian clergyman. He was born in Boston and graduated at Amherst College (1891) and at Auburn Theological Seminary (1894). He was pastor of churches at Utica and Cortlandt, N. Y., until 1900; then of the Brown Memorial Church, Baltimore, until 1909; and in that year became pastor of the Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago. In 1913-14 he was moderator of the general assembly of the Presbyterian church. He published: Footsteps in a Parish (1908); Recruiting for Christ (1910); also monographs on educational and religious subjects.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Stone, Lucy

STONE, (1818-93). A pioneer American woman suffragist. She was born at West Brookfield, Mass., and graduated at Oberlin College in 1847. She went to Oberlin because she wished to learn Hebrew and Greek in order to know at first hand whether the biblical texts quoted against the equal rights of women were true translations. In 1848 she lectured on woman's rights at Gardner, Mass., and in the same year toured the New England States and Canada in behalf of the antislavery movement. She married Henry B. Blackwell, brother of Elizabeth Blackwell (q.v.), in 1855, but retained her maiden name with her husband's consent. In 1857 she removed to New Jersey, where the seizure of her property for taxes caused her

to write a pungent protest, using as a logical weapon the motto of the Revolution, “no taxation without representation.” She lectured during the political campaigns for the woman's suffrage amendments (1867-82), took the most prominent part in founding the American Woman's Suffrage Association in 1869, was president thereof in 1872, and was chairman of its executive committee in 1869-89. In 1870-72 she was coeditor of the Boston Woman's Journal, and from 1872 to the year of her death she was its editor in chief, assisted by her husband and her daughter, Alice Stone Blackwell (q.v.). She died at Dorchester, Mass.


text:
User:Mahir256

You will find more information about me here: w:User:Mahir256

Some works here that I've proofread:

 * Index:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu

Some works here that I've been occasionally proofreading:

 * Index:Bengal Celebrities.djvu
 * Index:Echoes from East and West.pdf
 * Index:Mahabharata - the epic of ancient India.djvu
 * Index:Maulana Muhammad Ali Quran.djvu
 * Index:The Fugitive (Tagore).djvu

Some works that I've specifically marked for myself to get to:

 * Index:Anecdotes of Indian Life.djvu
 * Index:Cradle Tales of Hinduism .djvu
 * Index:Hindoo Tales, or, The Adventures of Ten Princes.djvu
 * Index:Siyar-ul-Mutakherin.djvu
 * Index:Speeches and Writings of Sarojini Naidu.djvu
 * Index:The English Works of Raja Rammohun Roy Vol 1.djvu
 * Index:The Master as I Saw Him.djvu
 * Index:The Position of Women in Indian Life.djvu
 * Index:True Tales of Indian Life - Dwijendra Nath Neogi.pdf
 * Index:Twelve men of Bengal in the nineteenth century (1910).djvu

Some works I have considered getting around to proofreading:

 * Index:Koran - Rodwell - 2nd ed.djvu
 * Index:Sacred Books of the East - Volume 6.djvu (not in any way pridefully)
 * Index:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 05.djvu

title: User:Mahir256


text:
Page:A Hebrew and English Lexicon (Brown-Driver-Briggs).djvu/19

 F.B. = F. Brown.

fem. = feminine, feminae.

fig. = figurative

fin. = finite, finitivum.

FJB = F. J. Bliss.

Flora = Post, Flora of Syria.

fr. = from.

fs. = feminine singular.

Fü = J. Fürst.

Gal = Galilee

Gann = Clermont-Ganneau.

geogr. = geography

Gesch. = Geschichte

Gf = K. H. Graf.

GFM = G. F. Moore.

GGN = Gött. Nachrichten.

Gie = F. Giesebrecht.

Gi(nsb) = C. D. Ginsburg.

Gloss., gl. = glossary, rarely = a gloss.

Gn = Genesis.

Gr = H. Grätz.

Guy = Stan. Guyard.

= Hebrew (Consonantal Text).

H = Code of Holiness

Haev = Haevernick

Hb = Habakkuk.

Hbr = Hebraica.

HDerenb = H. Derenbourg.

Heb. = Hebrew

He(ngst) = E. Hengstenberg.

Herod(ot.) = Herodotus.

Hex = Hexateuch.

Hg = Haggai.

Hi = F. Hitzig.

Hilg = A. Hilgenfeld.

Hilpr = H. V. Hilprecht.

Hirz = L. Hirzel.

Ho = Hosea.

Hoffm = G. Hoffmann.

Hollenb = W. A. Hollenberg.

Holz = H. Holzinger.

Houb = C. F. Houbigant.

HPS = H. P. Smith.

HSch = H. Schultz.

Idiot. = Idioticon.

Impf. = Imperfect.

Imv. = Imperative.

ind. = indirect.

indef. = indefinite.

Inf. = Infinitive.

infr., infr. = infra, below.

Inschr. = Inschrift, Inschriften.

intr(ans). = intransitive.

i.q. = id quod, i.e. the same with.

Is = Isaiah.

J = Jehovist.

JAs = Journal Asiatique.

Jb = Job.

JDMich = J. D. Michaelis.

Je = Jeremiah.

Jer = Jerome; also Jerusalem.

Jerem = A. Jeremias.

Jerus. = Jerusalem.

Jes = Jesaias.


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Page:Onthetendencyofspecies.pdf/1

Rh On the Tendency of Species to form Varieties; and on the Perpetuation of Varieties and Species by Natural Means of Selection. By, Esq., F.R.S., F.L.S., & F.G.S., and , Esq. Communicated by Sir , F.R.S., F.L.S., and , Esq., M.D., V.P.R.S., F.L.S, &c.

London, June 30th, 1858.

,—The accompanying papers, which we have the honour of communicating to the Linnean Society, and which all relate to the same subject, viz. the Laws which affect the Production of Varieties, Races, and Species, contain the results of the investigations of two indefatigable naturalists, Mr. Charles Darwin and Mr. Alfred Wallace.

These gentlemen having, independently and unknown to one another, conceived the same very ingenious theory to account for the appearance and perpetuation of varieties and of specific forms on our planet, may both fairly claim the merit of being original thinkers in this important line of inquiry; but neither of them having published his views, though Mr. Darwin has for many years past been repeatedly urged by us to do so, and both authors having now unreservedly placed their papers in our hands, we think it would best promote the interests of science that a selection from them should be laid before the Linnean Society.

Taken in the order of their dates, they consist of:—

1. Extracts from a MS. work on Species, by Mr. Darwin, which was sketched in 1839, and copied in 1844, when the copy was read by Dr. Hooker, and its contents afterwards communicated to Sir Charles Lyell. The first Part is devoted to "The Variation of Organic Beings under Domestication and in their Natural State;" and the second chapter of that Part, from which we propose to read to the Society the extracts referred to, is headed, "On the Variation of Organic Beings in a state of Nature; on the Natural Means of Selection; on the Comparison of Domestic Races and true Species."

2. An abstract of a private letter addressed to Professor Asa Gray, of Boston, U.S., in October4 1857, by Mr. Darwin, in which

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46 he repeats his views, and which shows that these remained unaltered from 1839 to 1857.

3. An Essay by Mr. Wallace, entitled "On the Tendency of Varieties to depart indefinitely from the Original Type." This was written at Ternate in February 1858, for the perusal of his friend and correspondent Mr. Darwin, and sent to him with the expressed wish that it should be forwarded to Sir Charles Lyell, if Mr. Darwin thought it sufficiently novel and interesting. So highly did Mr. Darwin appreciate the value of the views therein set forth, that he proposed, in a letter to Sir Charles Lyell, to obtain Mr. Wallace's consent to allow the Essay to be published as soon as possible. Of this step we highly approved, provided Mr. Darwin did not withhold from the public, as he was strongly inclined to do (in favour of Mr. Wallace), the memoir which he had himself written on the same subject, and which, as before stated, one of us had perused in 1844, and the contents of which we had both of us been privy to for many years. On representing this to Mr. Darwin, he gave us permission to make what use we thought proper of his memoir, &c.; and in adopting our present course, of presenting it to the Linnean Society, we have explained to him that we are not solely considering the relative claims to priority of himself and his friend, but the interests of science generally; for we feel it to be desirable that views founded on a wide deduction from facts, and matured by years of reflection, should constitute at once a goal from which others may start, and that, while the scientific world is waiting for the appearance of Mr. Darwin's complete work, some of the leading results of his labours, as well as those of his able correspondent, should together be laid before the public.

We have the honour to be yours very obediently,

.

.

J. J. Bennett, Esq.,

Secretary of the Linnean Society.

De Candolle, in an eloquent passage, has declared that all nature is at war, one organism with another, or with external nature.

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text:
Psmith, Journalist

 * PREFACE
 * I. "COSY MOMENTS"
 * II. BILLY WINDSOR
 * III. AT "THE GARDENIA"
 * IV. BAT JARVIS
 * V. PLANNING IMPROVEMENTS
 * VI. THE TENEMENTS
 * VII. VISITORS AT THE OFFICE
 * VIII. THE HONEYED WORD
 * IX. FULL STEAM AHEAD
 * X. GOING SOME
 * XI. THE MAN AT THE ASTOR
 * XII. A RED TAXIMETER
 * XIII. REVIEWING THE SITUATION
 * XIV. THE HIGHFIELD
 * XV. AN ADDITION TO THE STAFF
 * XVI. THE FIRST BATTLE
 * XVII. GUERILLA WARFARE
 * XVIII. AN EPISODE BY THE WAY
 * XIX. PLEASANT STREET
 * XX. CORNERED
 * XXI. THE BATTLE OF PLEASANT STREET
 * XXII. CONCERNING MR. WARING
 * XXIII. REDUCTIONS IN THE STAFF
 * XXIV. A GATHERING OF CAT-SPECIALISTS
 * XXV. TRAPPED
 * XXVI. A FRIEND IN NEED
 * XXVII. PSMITH CONCLUDES HIS RIDE
 * XXVIII. STANDING ROOM ONLY
 * XXIX. THE KNOCK-OUT FOR MR. WARING

title: Psmith, Journalist


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Rh Seeing the contented face of nature, this may at first well be doubted; but reflection will inevitably prove it to be true. The war, however, is not constant, but recurrent in a slight degree at short periods, and more severely at occasional more distant periods; and hence its effects are easily overlooked. It is the doctrine of Malthus applied in most cases with tenfold force. As in every climate there are seasons, for each of its inhabitants, of greater and less abundance, so all annually breed; and the moral restraint which in some small degree checks the increase of mankind is entirely lost. Even slow-breeding mankind has doubled in twenty-five years; and if he could increase his food with greater ease, he would double in less time. But for animals without artificial means, the amount of food for each species must, on an average, be constant, whereas the increase of all organisms tends to be geometrical, and in a vast majority of cases at an enormous ratio. Suppose in a certain spot there are eight pairs of birds, and that only four pairs of them annually (including double hatches) rear only four young, and that these go on rearing their young at the same rate, then at the end of seven years (a short life, excluding violent deaths, for any bird) there will be 2048 birds, instead of the original sixteen. As this increase is quite impossible, we must conclude either that birds do not rear nearly half their young, or that the average life of a bird is, from accident, not nearly seven years. Both checks probably concur. The same kind of calculation applied to all plants and animals affords results more or less striking, but in very few instances more striking than in man.

Many practical illustrations of this rapid tendency to increase are on record, among which, during peculiar seasons, are the extraordinary numbers of certain animals; for instance, during the years 1826 to 1828, in La Plata, when from drought some millions of cattle perished, the whole country actually swarmed with mice. Now I think it cannot be doubted that during the breeding-season all the mice (with the exception of a few males or females in excess) ordinarily pair, and therefore that this astounding increase during three years must be attributed to a greater number than usual surviving the first year, and then breeding, and so on till the third year, when their numbers were brought down to their usual limits on the return of wet weather. Where man has introduced plants and animals into a new and favourable country, there are many accounts in how surprisingly few years the whole country has become stocked with them. This increase would

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48 necessarily stop as soon as the country was fully stocked; and yet we have every reason to believe, from what is known of wild animals, that all would pair in the spring. In the majority of cases it is most difficult to imagine where the checks fall—though generally, no doubt, on the seeds, eggs, and young; but when we remember how impossible, even in mankind (so much better known than any other animal), it is to infer from repeated casual observations what the average duration of life is, or to discover the different percentage of deaths to births in different countries, we ought to feel no surprise at our being unable to discover where the check falls in any animal or plant. It should always be remembered, that in most cases the checks are recurrent yearly in a small, regular degree, and in an extreme degree during unusually cold, hot, dry, or wet years, according to the constitution of the being in question. Lighten any check in the least degree, and the geometrical powers of increase in every organism will almost instantly increase the average number of the favoured species. Nature may be compared to a surface on which rest ten thousand sharp wedges touching each other and driven inwards by incessant blows. Fully to realize these views much reflection is requisite. Malthus on man should be studied; and all such cases as those of the mice in La Plata, of the cattle and horses when first turned out in South America, of the birds by our calculation, &c., should be well considered. Reflect on the enormous multiplying power inherent and annually in action in all animals; reflect on the countless seeds scattered by a hundred ingenious contrivances, year after year, over the whole face of the land; and yet we have every reason to suppose that the average percentage of each of the inhabitants of a country usually remains constant. Finally, let it be borne in mind that this average number of individuals (the external conditions remaining the same) in each country is kept up by recurrent struggles against other species or against external nature (as on the borders of the Arctic regions, where the cold checks life), and that ordinarily each individual of every species holds its place, either by its own struggle and capacity of acquiring nourishment in some period of its life, from the egg upwards; or by the struggle of its parents (in short-lived organisms, when the main check occurs at longer intervals) with other individuals of the same or different species.

But let the external conditions of a country alter. If in a small degree, the relative proportions of the inhabitants will in most cases simply be slightly changed; but let the number of

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text:
Psmith, Journalist/Preface

THE conditions of life in New York are so different from those of London that a story of this kind calls for a little explanation. There are several million inhabitants of New York. Not all of them eke out a precarious livelihood by murdering one another, but there is a definite section of the population which murders—not casually, on the spur of the moment, but on definitely commercial lines at so many dollars per murder. The "gangs" of New York exist in fact. I have not invented them. Most of the incidents in this story are based on actual happenings. The Rosenthal case, where four men, headed by a genial individual calling himself "" shot a fellow-citizen in cold blood in a spot as public and fashionable as and escaped in a motor-car, made such a stir a few years ago that the noise of it was heard all over the world and not, as is generally the case with the doings of the gangs, in New York only. Rosenthal cases on a smaller and less sensational scale are frequent occurrences on Manhattan Island. It was the prominence of the victim rather than the unusual nature of the occurrence that excited the New York press. Most gang victims get a quarter of a column in small type.

P. G. WODEHOUSE New York, 1915

title: Psmith, Journalist/Preface


text:
Page:Onthetendencyofspecies.pdf/5

Rh inhabitants be small, as on an island, and free access to it from other countries be circumscribed, and let the change of conditions continue progressing (forming new stations), in such a case the original inhabitants must cease to be as perfectly adapted to the changed conditions as they were originally. It has been shown in a former part of this work, that such changes of external conditions would, from their acting on the reproductive system, probably cause the organization of those beings which were most affected to become, as under domestication, plastic. Now, can it be doubted, from the struggle each individual has to obtain subsistence, that any minute variation in structure, habits, or instincts, adapting that individual better to the new conditions, would tell upon its vigour and health? In the struggle it would have a better chance of surviving; and those of its offspring which inherited the variation, be it ever so slight, would also have a better chance. Yearly more are bred than can survive; the smallest grain in the balance, in the long run, must tell on which death shall fall, and which shall survive. Let this work of selection on the one hand, and death on the other, go on for a thousand generations, who will pretend to affirm that it would produce no effect, when we remember what, in a few years, Bakewell effected in cattle, and Western in sheep, by this identical principle of selection?

To give an imaginary example from changes in progress on an island:—let the organization of a canine animal which preyed chiefly on rabbits, but sometimes on hares, become slightly plastic; let these same changes cause the number of rabbits very slowly to decrease, and the number of hares to increase; the effect of this would be that the fox or dog would be driven to try to catch more hares: his organization, however, being slightly plastic, those individuals with the lightest forms, longest limbs, and best eyesight, let the difference be ever so small, would be slightly favoured, and would tend to live longer, and to survive during that time of the year when food was scarcest; they would also rear more young, which would tend to inherit these slight peculiarities. The less fleet ones would be rigidly destroyed. I can see no more reason to doubt that these causes in a thousand generations would produce a marked effect, and adapt the form of the fox or dog to the catching of hares instead of rabbits, than that greyhounds can be improved by selection and careful breeding. So would it be with plants under similar circumstances. If the number of individuals of a species with plumed seeds could be increased by greater powers of dissemination within its own area LINN. PROC–ZOOLOGY

title: Page:Onthetendencyofspecies.pdf/5


text: Talk:Psmith, Journalist

title: Talk:Psmith, Journalist