text:
User:Koavf/Todo

B •  D  •  C  •  M  •  MW  •  N  •  P  •  Q  •  Species  •  T  •  V  • Voy

 * en: 765,000+ / fr: 1,209,000+

 * Index:The Autobiography of a Catholic Anarchist.djvu
 * Fabella prevalence rate increases over 150 years, and rates of other sesamoid bones remain constant: a systematic review
 * Import texts from PG and Internet Archive
 * http://www.openculture.com/2014/01/read-dictator-kim-jong-ils-writings-on-cinema-art-opera.html
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 * War Resisters League
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 * Author:Abraham Johannes Muste
 * Old Indianapolis newspapers
 * Days of War, Nights of Love
 * w:Category:Creative_Commons-licensed_works
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 * A Mind That Found Itself
 * Index:Compendium of US Copyright Office Practices (1973).pdf
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 * Full names of authors, starting at last page move.
 * Glossary
 * https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Made-with-cc.pdf
 * https://constitution.congress.gov/
 * https://www.nps.gov/parkhistory/online_books/kcc/contents.htm
 * File:E. G. Lutz - Animated cartoons - how they are made - their origin and development.pdf (note that File:Animated cartoons; how they are made, their origin and development (IA cu31924075701304).pdf has the cover)

title: User:Koavf/Todo


text:
Index talk:David Baron – The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes.djvu

Other editions
Second Edition, instead o fourth, is available as djvu with text at http://archive.org/details/historyoftenlost00barouoft. Might be an option to swap.--Mpaa (talk) 22:36, 11 May 2012 (UTC)

Migration
The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes is proposed for migration here, but considering the low quality of the OCR, is there a better way to do this than just proofreading and replacing? -- xensyria T 12:52, 31 January 2013 (UTC)
 * "Migration" means over-writing the OCR with the mainspace text. This is something that can be done semi-automatically, but we need to be sure that the two texts are the same edition otherwise it has the potential to get messy. I've had a look, but can't establish which edition wikijeff used. Because it's the British Library copy it is most likely to be the first edition, so not a direct match. Personally, I think the best thing to do is to ignore this set of page images in png format and get the DjVu set that Mpaa refers to above. Beeswaxcandle (talk) 17:55, 31 January 2013 (UTC)
 * I see; it looks like the scans used here were uploaded by wikijeff though (with the British Library metadata), and they were linked to as pagescans on the talk page, so it looks to me like he was using this edition, but I agree we can't be sure. All other things being equal, I'd generally prefer a first edition, but, failing that, the later an edition the better, and in this case (which to be honest I came across through Category:Index - Text Layer Requested rather than out of interest), it would be a shame to start yet another completely new version of the same thing from scratch (I for one wouldn't really have the interest), so I've made the scans into a DJVU document, uploaded to the internet archive, and from there to Commons. All the pages in there now have OCR (except perhaps the cover), and I'd be happy to copy over the pages we've proofed here if that's ok, gradually work through it, and use text comparison with wikijeff's version as a final check before transcluding it into main. Does that sound alright? -- xensyria T 18:11, 1 February 2013 (UTC)
 * That sounds absolutely fine to me. Thank you for doing that extra work. Beeswaxcandle (talk) 18:47, 1 February 2013 (UTC)
 * Glad to help :D -- xensyria T 19:03, 1 February 2013 (UTC)

Migrated
Finally migrated to The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes after comparing and correcting the two versions (in plain text, there might be some formatting differences, e.g. italics). The original text is still in the page histories, and I didn't include any of the (quite extensive) links (both wiki and external). The non-transcluded adverts (originally called "Appendix II"), are still at The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes/Chapter XVI, now orphaned, and could be deleted. -- xensyria T 00:09, 17 October 2013 (UTC)
 * I've now compared the italics with the original non-transcluded version (no changes) and also checked text and italics against the Project Gutenberg version, making a few corrections from that and sending them a few more. Also, with the preface transcluded on the main page, The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes/Preface is orphaned too. -- xensyria T 01:54, 21 October 2013 (UTC)

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


text: Page:David Baron – The History of the Ten "Lost" Tribes.djvu/88


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/2

 {|
 * WeirdTalesv28n3pg257A Rosicrucians.png
 * }
 * }


text:
User talk:Radartooth

Welcome
Welcome

Hello, Radartooth, and welcome to Wikisource! Thank you for. I hope you like the place and decide to stay. Here are a few good links for newcomers:
 * Help pages
 * Style guide
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You may be interested in participating in Add the code active projects, PotM or CotW to your page for current wikisource projects.
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You can put a brief description of your interests on your user page and contributions to another Wikimedia project, such as Wikipedia and Commons.

I hope you enjoy contributing to Wikisource, the library that is free for everyone to use! In discussions, please "sign" your comments using four tildes ( ~ ); this will automatically produce your IP address (or username if you're logged in) and the date. If you need help, ask me on my talk page, or ask your question here (click  [ edit] ) and place  before your question.

Again, welcome! Beeswaxcandle (talk) 23:39, 11 May 2012 (UTC)

For subpages
Thought that I would show the current way that we format subpages of works [//en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=Jill_the_Reckless/Chapter_20&diff=3947368&oldid=3947340 example]. We try to do relative links rather than hard links, and this is in case of a need to move a work it means we can just move and not need to edit pages, plus for years and categories, we generally only put these at the top level of a work, rather than on every page. — billinghurst  sDrewth  11:41, 22 June 2012 (UTC)

Thanks Billinghurst. I shall keep that in mind. Radartooth (talk) 05:58, 25 June 2012 (UTC)
 * And I have run through with my tools, and updated the previous works, and the last lot there was little to do. To note that I have also moved a couple of works.  We do not disambiguate with words like (novel) as if there are different versions, then it is quite possible that all versions will be novels, so if we need to disambiguate we use author's name, translatorr's name, or a year version. If we don't need to disambiguate, we usually will not, leaving that to another day, if at all a requirement.  — billinghurst  sDrewth  13:57, 25 June 2012 (UTC)

 * Thanks again. Radartooth (talk) 03:18, 26 June 2012 (UTC)

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Thank you! --EGalvez (WMF) (talk) 21:27, 13 January 2017 (UTC)

Empty works
Hi. It is the community's preference that blank works are not created. It is felt that they end up being left empty and misrepresent the site. If there are not immediate plans to proofread and transclude the works, then probably should delete the main ns pages until there are works ready to transclude. — billinghurst  sDrewth  08:22, 10 November 2017 (UTC)

Thanks for this, billinghurst. I shall proofread and transclude as soon as possible. - radartooth --Radartooth (talk) 09:14, 10 November 2017 (UTC)

Copyright tags
Hi Radartooth. I noticed that you uploaded The Intruder (Georgia Wood Pangborn) today, but you didn't add a copyright tag. Per the copyright policy works should be tagged to indicate their copyright status. Please could you ensure that this and previous contributions of yours are properly tagged. Please do ask me or at the Scriptorium if you're not sure about anything. Thanks, BethNaught (talk) 21:10, 15 March 2018 (UTC)

Hi BethNaught. Thanks for this. I have added the appropriate copyright tag.

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Death Comes for the Archbishop
I can't see that you have noted the source for your recent addition. What was it ? -- Beardo (talk) 23:00, 25 January 2023 (UTC)

Hi Beardo. I have mentioned the Archive.org file as the source. Radartooth (talk) 06:14, 26 January 2023 (UTC)

 * Thanks for adding that. -- Beardo (talk) 07:32, 27 January 2023 (UTC)
 * Thanks. Radartooth (talk) 10:24, 27 January 2023 (UTC)

Awareness that straight paste is less preferred
Hi. Checking that you are aware that English Wikisource has a preference for works to be provided as scan-backed versions as this is a better way to get proofread and validated pages, per Help:Proofread. We do allow copy and paste however where there is a scan available, it is definitely the preference. Thanks. — billinghurst  sDrewth  04:12, 10 May 2023 (UTC)

 * Thanks for this. Radartooth (talk) 06:50, 10 May 2023 (UTC)

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title: User talk:Radartooth


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/5

260 Something's going to happen—something dreadful I just know it!"

"Oh—be sensible, Vilma!" There was a hint of impatience in Cliff's deep voice. A gorgeous girl in his arms—dark-haired, dark-eyed, made for love—and she talked of dreadful things which were going to happen because the moon looked screwy.

She released herself and glanced out over the sea, "I know I'm silly, but" Her voice froze and her slender body stiffened. "Cliff—look!"

Darrell spun around, and as he stared, he felt a dryness seeping into his throat, choking him...

Out of the winding-sheet of fog into the moonlight crept a strange, strange craft, her crumbling timbers blackened and rotted with incredible age. The corpse of a ship, she seemed, resurrected from the grave of the sea. Her prow thrust upward like a simitar bent backward, hovering over the gaunt ruin of a cabin whose seaward sides were formed by port and starboard bows. From a shallow pit amidships jutted the broken arm of a mast, its splintered tip pointing toward the blindly watching moon. The stern, thickly covered with the moldering encrustations of age, curved inward above the strange high poop, beneath which lay another cabin. And along either side of her worm-eaten freeboard ran a row of apertures like oblong portholes. Out of these projected great oars, long, unwieldy, as somberly black as the rest of the ancient bulk.

Now a sound drifted across the waters, the steady, rhythmic br-rr-oom, br-rr-oom, br-rr-oom of a drum beating time for the rowers, Its hollow thud checked the heart, set it to throbbing in tempo with its own weary pulse. Ghostly fingers, dripping dread, crawled up Darrell's spine.

Stiff-lipped, Vilma gasped: "What—what is it?"

Cliff answered in a dry husky voice, the words seeming to trip over an awkward tongue. "It's—it's—it can't be, damn it!—but it's a galley, a ship from the days of Alexander the Great! What's it doing—here—now?"

Closer she came through the moon-path, a frothing lip of brine curling away from her swelling prow. Closer—her course crossing that of the Ariel—and the watchers saw her crew! They gasped, and the blood ebbed from their faces.

Men of ancient Persia, clad in leather kirtles and rusted armor, and they were hideous! In the yellow moon-glow Cliff could see them clearly now—a lookout standing motionless in the stem, the steersman on the poop-deck, the drummer squatting beside the broken mast, the rowers in the pit—and all, all were a bloodless white, the skin of their faces puffed and bloated and horribly wrinkled, like flesh that had been under water a long time.

Dead men ... men whose movements were stiffly wooden ... as dead as their faces. But most horrible was the fact that they were there, that they moved at all!

mirage, isn't it?" A hollow voice spoke suavely behind them. Vilma gasped at the sudden sound, and they whirled. A foot away stood the tall, lean figure of the Ariel's captain, Leon Corio. A queer smile twisted his thin lips.

"What's the idea—sneaking up on us?" Darrell demanded angrily. He didn't like this man, hadn't liked him from the moment he had approached Cliff to sell him the yacht. But Cliff had bought the craft because she was a bargain, and in accordance with their agreement he had hired Corio as captain.

The tall man's smile remained fixed, and he bowed gravely. "Sorry, sir. I always walk softly, A habit, I suppose."


text: Page:Dickens - Our Mutual Friend, New York, Continental Press.djvu/5


text: Page:Dickens - Our Mutual Friend, New York, Continental Press.djvu/6


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/299

THE OLD COACHING-INN YARD


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/305

FRANKLIN'S GRAVE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/311

ARCH STREET MEETING


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/315

CLIVEDEN, THE CHEW HOUSE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/321

BARTRAM'S


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/325

CARPENTER'S HALL INTERIOR


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/331

MAIN STREET, GERMANTOWN


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/337

ARCH STREET MEETING—INTERIOR


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/341

FRONT AND CALLOWHILL


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/347

THE ELEVATED AT MARKET STREET WHARF


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/353

DR. FURNESS'S HOUSE, WEST WASHINGTON SQUARE


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/359

THE GERMANTOWN ACADEMY


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/365

THE STATE HOUSE FROM INDEPENDENCE SQUARE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/369

"THE LITTLE STREET OF CLUBS," CAMAC STREET ABOVE SPRUCE STREET


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/373

DOWN SANSOM STREET FROM EIGHTH STREET


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/379

THE DOUBLE STAIRWAY IN THE PENNSYLVANIA HOSPITAL


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/385

CARPENTER'S HALL, BUILT 1771


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/389

INDEPENDENCE HALL—LENGTHWISE VIEW


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/397

GIRARD COLLEGE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/403

UPSALA, GERMANTOWN


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/407

THE HALL AT CLIVEDEN, THE CHEW HOUSE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/411

THE OLD WATER-WORKS, FAIRMOUNT PARK


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/417

THE STAIRWAY, STATE HOUSE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/423

UPPER ROOM, STENTON


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/429

WYCK


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/435

THE PHILADELPHIA DISPENSARY FROM INDEPENDENCE SQUARE


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/439

MORRIS HOUSE, GERMANTOWN


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/445

THE STATE HOUSE COLONNADE


text:
Page:Freud - The interpretation of dreams.djvu/367

Rh holidays, my friend from Berlin and I. A little girl asked me to tell her the way to a certain street; I had to tell her I did not know it, whereupon I remarked to my friend, "I hope that later on in life the little one will show more perspicacity in selecting the persons by whom she allows herself to be guided." Shortly afterwards a sign caught my eye: "Dr, Herod, office hours...." I said to myself: "I hope this colleague does not happen to be a children's specialist." Meanwhile my friend had been developing his views on the biological significance of bilateral symmetry, and had begun a sentence as follows: "If we had but one eye in the middle of our foreheads like Cyclops...." This leads us to the speech of the professor in the preliminary dream: "My son, the myopic." And now I have been led to the chief source for Geseres. Many years ago, when this son of Professor M., who is to-day an independent thinker, was still sitting on his school-bench, he contracted a disease of the eye, which the doctor declared gave cause for anxiety. He was of the opinion that as long as it remained in one eye it would not matter; if, however, it should extend to the other eye, it would be serious. The disease healed in the one eye without leaving any bad effects; shortly afterwards, however, its symptoms actually appeared in the other eye. The terrified mother of the boy immediately summoned the physician to the seclusion of her country resort. But he took another view of the matter. "What sort of 'Geseres' is this you are making?" he said to his mother with impatience. "If one side got well, the other side will get well too." And so it turned out.

And now as to the connection between this and myself and those dear to me. The school-bench upon which the son of Professor M. learned his first lessons has become the property of my eldest son—it was given to his mother—into whose lips I put the words of parting in the dream. One of the wishes that can be attached to this transference may now easily be guessed. This school-bench is intended by its construction to guard the child from becoming shortsighted and one-sided. Hence, myopia (and behind the Cyclops) and the discussion about bilateralism. The concern about one-sidedness is of two-fold signification; along with the bodily


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/451

THE SMITH MEMORIAL, WEST FAIRMOUNT PARK


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/455

THE BASIN, OLD WATER-WORKS


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/461

GIRARD STREET


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/465

THE UNION LEAGUE, FROM BROAD AND CHESTNUT STREETS


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/473

BROAD STREET STATION


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/477

WANAMAKER'S


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/481

ST. PETERS CHURCHYARD


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/485

CITY HALL FROM THE SCHUYLKILL


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/489

CHESTNUT STREET BRIDGE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/495

THE NARROW STREET


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/499

THE MARKET STREET ELEVATED AT THE DELAWARE END


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/503

THE RAILROAD BRIDGES AT FALLS OF SCHUYLKILL


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/507

THE PARKWAY PERGOLAS


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/511

MARKET STREET WEST OF THE SCHUYLKILL


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/517

MANHEIM CRICKET GROUND


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/521

DOCK STREET AND THE EXCHANGE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/527

THE LOCOMOTIVE YARD, WEST PHILADELPHIA


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/531

THE GIRARD TRUST COMPANY


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/535

TWELFTH STREET MEETING HOUSE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/539

WYCK


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/543

THE MASSED SKY-SCRAPERS ABOVE THE HOUSETOPS


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/547

SUNSET. PHILADELPHIA FROM ACROSS THE DELAWARE


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/551

THE UNION LEAGUE BETWEEN THE SKY-SCRAPERS


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/555

UP BROAD STREET FROM LEAGUE ISLAND


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Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/559

FROM GRAY'S FERRY


text: Neville Butler to Franklin D. Roosevelt (December 20, 1940)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitchell, Thomas (fl.1735-1790)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitchell, Thomas (1743-1845)


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitchell, William (1811-1878)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitchell, William Henry Fancourt


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitford, John Thomas Freeman-


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mitford, Mary Russell


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


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


text:
Page:Life of Octavia Hill as told in her letters.djvu/53

 September 17th, 1854.

(In the Lake Country.)

I have spent three happy evenings with Miss Rogers. I have had a very interesting conversation on religion with Charlie Bennett, Harry and Mr. Rogers. … You cannot think what pleasure your notes have been, telling us, as they do, of a life of rest and beauty. One doesn't seem to know much about that sort of thing, and yet they seem to speak of home to you, as not many things do. One thing will be that you will be able to understand Ruskin infinitely better than you would have done. I imagine that some of the descriptions, that appear to us bright images of things almost vague at times (they are so far off), will remind you of actual beauties that you have really seen, memories connected with life. Ruskin has done something to rescue many things from vagueness. He has embodied them in words which will convey these impressions they gave you, as nobody else ever has, I believe. …

I have been to Westminster Abbey with Miss Cons, have I ever spoken about her to you? It seems to me that she is capable of a very great deal. She said something the other day about Mr. Maurice and Walter Cooper that made me very angry. I told her I would never tell her anything again; however, instead of that, I told her a great deal more than I ever did before. I told her that it was he who had led me to the Church, who had shown me a life in the creeds, the services and the Bible; who had interpreted for me much that was dark and puzzling in life; how the belief in a Father, a Son and a Holy Ghost might be the most real


text:
Author:Thomas Southwood Smith

Works

 * A Treatise on Fever (1830)

title: Author:Thomas Southwood Smith


text:
Page:Indiscretions of Archie.djvu/272

HE main dining-room of the Hotel Cosmopolis is a decorous place. The lighting is artistically dim, and the genuine old tapestries on the walls seem, with their mediæval calm, to discourage any essay in the riotous. Soft-footed waiters shimmer to and fro over thick, expensive carpets to the music of an orchestra which abstains wholly from the noisy modernity of jazz. To Archie, who during the past few days had been privileged to hear Miss Huskisson rehearsing, the place had a sort of brooding quiet, like the ocean just before the arrival of a cyclone. As Lucille had said, Miss Huskisson's voice was loud. It was a powerful organ, and there was no doubt that it would take the cloistered stillness of the Cosmopolis dining-room and stand it on one ear. Almost unconsciously, Archie found himself bracing his muscles and holding his breath as he had done in France at the approach of the zero hour, when awaiting the first roar of a barrage. He listened mechanically to the conversation of Mr. Blumenthal.

The music-publisher was talking with some vehemence on the subject of Labour. A recent printers' strike had bitten deeply into Mr. Blumenthal's soul. The working man, he considered, was rapidly landing God's Country in the soup, and he had twice upset his glass with

title: Page:Indiscretions of Archie.djvu/272


text:
Page:Indiscretions of Archie.djvu/273

 the vehemence of his gesticulation. He was an energetic right-and-left-hand talker.

"The more you give 'em the more they want!" he complained. "There's no pleasing 'em! It isn't only in my business. There's your father, Mrs. Moffam!"

"Good God! Where?" said Archie, starting.

"I say, take your father's case. He's doing all he knows to get this new hotel of his finished, and what happens? A man gets fired for loafing on his job, and Connolly calls a strike. And the building operations are held up till the thing's settled! It isn't right!"

"It's a great shame," agreed Lucille. "I was reading about it in the paper this morning."

"That man Connolly's a tough guy. You'd think, being a personal friend of your father, he would"

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Been friends for years. But a lot of difference that makes. Out come the men just the same. It isn't right! I was saying it wasn't right!" repeated Mr. Blumenthal to Archie, for he was a man who liked the attention of every member of his audience.

Archie did not reply. He was staring glassily across the room at two men who had just come in. One was a large, stout, square-faced man of commanding personality. The other was Mr. Daniel Brewster.

Mr. Blumenthal followed his gaze.

"Why, there is Connolly coming in now!"

"Father!" gasped Lucille.

Her eyes met Archie's. Archie took a hasty drink of ice-water.

"This," he murmured, "has torn it!"

"Archie, you must do something!"

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270 "I know! But what?"

"What's the trouble?" enquired Mr. Blumenthal, mystified.

"Go over to their table and talk to them," said Lucille.

"Me!" Archie quivered. "No, I say, old thing, really!"

"Get them away!"

"How do you mean?"

"I know!" cried Lucille, inspired. "Father promised that you should be manager of the new hotel when it was built. Well, then, this strike affects you just as much as anybody else. You have a perfect right to talk it over with them. Go and ask them to have dinner up in our suite where you can discuss it quietly. Say that up there they won't be disturbed by the—the music."

At this moment, while Archie wavered, hesitating like a diver on the edge of a spring-board who is trying to summon up the necessary nerve to project himself into the deep, a bell-boy approached the table where the Messrs. Brewster and Connolly had seated themselves. He murmured something in Mr. Brewster's ear, and the proprietor of the Cosmopolis rose and followed him out of the room.

"Quick! Now's your chance!" said Lucille, eagerly, "Father's been called to the telephone. Hurry!"

Archie took another drink of ice-water to steady his shaking nerve-centers, pulled down his waistcoat, straightened his tie, and then, with something of the air of a Roman gladiator entering the arena, tottered across the room. Lucille turned to entertain the perplexed music-publisher.

The nearer Archie got to Mr. Aloysius Connolly the

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Rh less did he like the looks of him. Even at a distance the Labour leader had had a formidable aspect. Seen close to, he looked even more uninviting. His face had the appearance of having been carved out of granite, and the eye which collided with Archie's as the latter, with an attempt at an ingratiating smile, pulled up a chair and sat down at the table was hard and frosty. Mr. Connolly gave the impression that he would be a good man to have on your side during a rough-and-tumble fight down on the water-front or in some lumber-camp, but he did not look chummy.

"Hallo-allo-allo!" said Archie.

"Who the devil," inquired Mr. Connolly, "are you?"

"My name's Archibald Moffam."

"That's not my fault."

"I'm jolly old Brewster's son-in-law."

"Glad to meet you."

"Glad to meet you," said Archie, handsomely.

"Well, good-bye!" said Mr. Connolly.

"Eh?"

"Run along and sell your papers. Your father-in-law and I have business to discuss."

"Yes, I know."

"Private," added Mr. Connolly.

"Oh, but I'm in on this binge, you know. I'm going to be the manager of the new hotel."

"You!"

"Absolutely!"

"Well, well!" said Mr. Connolly, noncommittally.

Archie, pleased with the smoothness with which matters had opened, bent forward winsomely.

"I say, you know! It won't do, you know!

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272 no! Not a bit like it! No, no, far from it! Well, how about it? How do we go? What? Yes? No?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Call it off, old thing!"

"Call what off?"

'This festive old strike."

"Not on your—hallo, Dan! Back again?"

Mr. Brewster, looming over the table like a thundercloud, regarded Archie with more than his customary hostility. Life was no pleasant thing for the proprietor of the Cosmopolis just now. Once a man starts building hotels, the thing becomes like dram-drinking. Any hitch, any sudden cutting-off of the daily dose, has the worst effects; and the strike which was holding up the construction of his latest effort had plunged Mr. Brewster into a restless gloom. In addition to having this strike on his hands, he had had to abandon his annual fishing-trip just when he had begun to enjoy it; and, as if all this were not enough, here was his son-in-law sitting at his table. Mr. Brewster had a feeling that this was more than man was meant to bear.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Hallo, old thing!" said Archie. "Come and join the party!"

"Don't call me old thing!"

"Right-o, old companion, just as you say. I say, I was just going to suggest to Mr. Connolly that we should all go up to my suite and talk this business over quietly."

"He says he's the manager of your new hotel," said Mr. Connolly. "Is that right?"

"I suppose so," said Mr. Brewster, gloomily.

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Rh "Then I'm doing you a kindness," said Mr. Connolly, "in not letting it be built."

Archie dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. The moments were flying, and it began to seem impossible to shift these two men. Mr. Connolly was as firmly settled in his chair as some primeval rock. As for Mr. Brewster, he, too, had seated himself, and was gazing at Archie with a weary repulsion. Mr. Brewster's glance always made Archie feel as though there were soup on his shirt-front.

And suddenly from the orchestra at the other end of the room there came a familiar sound, the prelude of "Mother's Knee."

"So you've started a cabaret, Dan?" said Mr. Connolly, in a satisfied voice. "I always told you you were behind the times here!"

Mr. Brewster jumped.

"Cabaret!"

He stared unbelievingly at the white-robed figure which had just mounted the orchestra dais, and then concentrated his gaze on Archie.

Archie would not have looked at his father-in-law at this juncture if he had had a free and untrammelled choice; but Mr. Brewster's eye drew his with something of the fascination which a snake's has for a rabbit. Mr. Brewster's eye was fiery and intimidating. A basilisk might have gone to him with advantage for a course of lessons. His gaze went right through Archie till the latter seemed to feel his back-hair curling crisply in the flames.

"Is this one of your fool-tricks?"

Even in this tense moment Archie found time almost unconsciously to admire his father-in-law's penetration

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 and intuition. He seemed to have a sort of sixth sense. No doubt this was how great fortunes were made.

"Well, as a matter of fact—to be absolutely accurate—it was like this"

"Say, cut it out!" said Mr. Connolly. "Can the chatter! I want to listen."

Archie was only too ready to oblige him. Conversation at the moment was the last thing he himself desired. He managed with a strong effort to disengage himself from Mr. Brewster's eye, and turned to the orchestra dais, where Miss Spectatia Huskisson was now beginning the first verse of Wilson Hymack's masterpiece.

Miss Huskisson, like so many of the female denizens of the Middle West, was tall and blonde and constructed on substantial lines. She was a girl whose appearance suggested the old homestead and fried pancakes and pop coming home to dinner after the morning's ploughing. Even her bobbed hair did not altogether destroy this impression. She looked big and strong and healthy, and her lungs were obviously good. She attacked the verse of the song with something of the vigour and breadth of treatment with which in other days she had reasoned with refractory mules. Her diction was the diction of one trained to call the cattle home in the teeth of Western hurricanes. Whether you wanted to or not, you heard every word.

The subdued clatter of knives and forks had ceased. The diners, unused to this sort of thing at the Cosmopolis, were trying to adjust their faculties to cope with the outburst. Waiters stood transfixed, frozen in attitudes of service. In the momentary lull between verse and

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 refrain Archie could hear the deep breathing of Mr. Brewster. Involuntarily he turned to gaze at him once more, as refugees from Pompeii may have turned to gaze upon Vesuvius; and, as he did so, he caught sight of Mr. Connolly, and paused in astonishment.

Mr. Connolly was an altered man. His whole personality had undergone a subtle change. His face still looked as though hewn from the living rock, but into his eyes had crept an expression which in another man might almost have been called sentimental. Incredible as it seemed to Archie, Mr. Connolly's eyes were dreamy. There was even in them a suggestion of unshed tears. And when with a vast culmination of sound Miss Huskisson reached the high note at the end of the refrain and, after holding it as some storming-party, spent but victorious, holds the summit of a hard-won redoubt, broke off suddenly, in the stillness which followed there proceeded from Mr. Connolly a deep sigh.

Miss Huskisson began the second verse. And Mr. Brewster, seeming to recover from some kind of a trance, leaped to his feet.

"Great Godfrey!"

"Sit down!" said Mr. Connolly, in a broken voice. "Sit down, Dan!"

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 The last high note screeched across the room like a shell, and the applause that followed was like a shell's bursting. One could hardly have recognised the refined interior of the Cosmopolis dining-room. Fair women were waving napkins; brave men were hammering on the tables with the butt-end of knives, for all the world as if they imagined themselves to be in one of those distressing midnight-revue places. Miss Huskisson bowed, retired, returned, bowed, and retired again, the tears streaming down her ample face. Over in a corner Archie could see his brother-in-law clapping strenuously. A waiter, with a display of manly emotion that did him credit, dropped an order of new peas.

"Thirty years ago last October," said Mr. Connolly, in a shaking voice, "I"

Mr. Brewster interuptedinterrupted [sic] him violently.

"I'll fire that orchestra-leader! He goes to-morrow! I'll fire" He turned on Archie. "What the devil do you mean by it, you—you"

"Thirty years ago," said Mr. Connolly, wiping away a tear with his napkin, "I left me dear old home in the old country"

"My hotel a bear-garden!"

"Frightfully sorry and all that, old companion"

"Thirty years ago last October! 'Twas a fine autumn evening, the finest ye'd ever wish to see. Me old mother, she came to the station to see me off."

Mr. Brewster, who was not deeply interested in Mr. Connolly's old mother, continued to splutter inarticulately, like a firework trying to go off.

"'Ye'll always be a good boy, Aloysius?" she said to me," said Mr. Connolly, proceeding with his

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. "And I said: "Yes, mother, I will!'" Mr. Connolly sighed and applied the napkin again. "'Twas a liar I was!" he observed, remorsefully. "Many's the dirty I've played since then. 'It's a long way back to mother's knee.' 'Tis a true word!" He turned impulsively to Mr. Brewster. "Dan, there's a deal of trouble in this world without me going out of me way to make more. The strike is over! I'll send the men back tomorrow! There's me hand on it!"

Mr. Brewster, who had just managed to co-ordinate his views on the situation and was about to express them with the generous strength which was ever his custom when dealing with his son-in-law, checked himself abruptly. He stared at his old friend and business enemy, wondering if he could have heard aright. Hope began to creep back into Mr. Brewster's heart, like a shamefaced dog that has been away from home hunting for a day or two.

"You'll what!"

"I'll send the men back to-morrow! That song was sent to guide me, Dan! It was meant! Thirty years ago last October me dear old mother"

Mr. Brewster bent forward attentively. His views on Mr. Connolly's dear old mother had changed. He wanted to hear all about her.

"'Twas that last note that girl sang brought it all back to me as if 'twas yesterday. As we waited on the platform, me old mother and I, out comes the train from the tunnel, and the engine lets off a screech the way ye'd hear it ten miles away. 'Twas thirty years ago"

Archie stole softly from the table. He felt that his presence, if it had ever been required, was required no

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 longer. Looking back, he could see his father-in-law patting Mr. Connolly affectionately on the shoulder.

Archie and Lucille lingered over their coffee. Mr. Blumenthal was out in the telephone-box settling the business end with Wilson Hymack. The music-publisher had been unstinted in his praise of "Mother's Knee." It was sure-fire, he said. The words, stated Mr. Blumenthal, were gooey enough to hurt, and the tune reminded him of every other song-hit he had ever heard. There was, in Mr. Blumenthal's opinion, nothing to stop the thing selling a million copies.

Archie smoked contentedly.

"Not a bad evening's work, old thing," he said. "Talk about birds with one stone!" He looked at Lucille reproachfully. "You don't seem bubbling over with joy."

"Oh, I am, precious!" Lucille sighed. "I was only thinking about Bill."

"What about Bill?"

"Well, it's rather awful to think of him tied for life to that—that steam-siren."

"Oh, we mustn't look on the jolly old dark side. Perhaps Hallo, Bill, old top! We were just talking about you."

"Were you?" said Bill Brewster, in a dispirited voice.

"I take it that you want congratulations, what?"

"I want sympathy!"

"Sympathy?"

"Sympathy! And lots of it! She's gone!"

"Gone! Who?"

"Spectatia!"

"How do you mean, gone?"

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Rh Bill glowered at the tablecloth.

"Gone home. I've just seen her off in a cab. She's gone back to Washington Square to pack. She's catching the ten o'clock train back to Snake Bite. It was that damned song!" muttered Bill, in a stricken voice. "She says she never realised before she sang it to-night how hollow New York was. She said it suddenly came over her. She says she's going to give up her career and go back to her mother. What the deuce are you twiddling your fingers for?" he broke off, irritably.

"Sorry, old man. I was just counting."

"Counting? Counting what?"

"Birds, old thing. Only birds!" said Archie.

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 and assistance which you always have in trying circumstances.

How happy you will be, when the little ones are older, when you get beyond the merely physical part of their education. I am sure your children will all be beautiful, good and wise, for they come into the world finely organized and are watched and trained under your gentle and elevating influence.

I heartily rejoice that the baby is a girl; you will give her strength to endure and struggle with the evils which are the birthright of her sex. She will add to the number of well educated women, who, I am afraid form but a very small portion of humanity. But I forget the difference in age. This little baby belongs almost to the third generation. She will be in her bloom, when we shall be old women, if not dead. Great changes may take place before she attains womanhood.

Very affectionately yours,

to her little daughter. 81, St. Mark's Place, Leeds. September 1st, 1843.

Ockey can now read quite well, and spends a great deal of time every day in reading to herself. Do you know she can scarcely walk, she goes leaping as if she were a little kangaroo—that is because she is such a merry little girl.

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 always ready for a joke. To-day her Papa said, "Take care or you will have a downfall." "That I should not mind," said Ockey, "if the down was there when I fell," and then she laughed.

Leeds, 1843.

Ockey learns to read very nicely. She is a very funny little girl; this is the way she talks. "Mama, I am as hot as if I were on the fire." "Mama, I shall never button this shoe if I were to try till the world is knocked down." She says things are as ugly as coal. The other day she told Minnie that she should "like to have a field so large that she could run about in it for ever."

From (at the age of four).

This letter shows her early love of colour, especially red.

We have a box full of silks. I gave Miranda a beautiful piece, it was velvet and the colours were black, purple, yellow and white and green. Miranda gave me a beautiful piece of crimson plush. Miranda has a book called The Peacock at Home and it has three stories in it.

to. November, 1845. On Monday it is Ockey's birthday. She will be seven years old. She intends to give me a patchwork bag on that day—and she sits on a play box placed on a window-board, and looks so pretty, sewing earnestly away, never thinking that I am watching her. Every now and then she looks out at the passers by: they know every boy and girl, cat, dog, and donkey in the


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to a tale, which is no mere tale, but a true story which has been handed down and kept in memory, of John the Apostle. For when the Roman Emperor was dead, and St. John had returned to Ephesus from [his banishment in] the island of Patmos, he went over the neighbouring countries; in some places to appoint Bishops, in some to establish new Churches, in others to separate to the Ministry some one of those whom the Spirit pointed out to him. At length he arrived at a city not very far from Ephesus, of which some even give the name; and after he had refreshed the brethren, he turned at last to the Bishop, whom he had appointed, and having observed a youth of goodly stature, comely appearance, and of an ardent spirit, "Here," he said, "is a deposit which I earnestly commend to your care, in the sight of and the Church." And after the Bishop had accepted the charge, and had promised all that was required of him, he repeated the same request, and with the same solemn form of words. Accordingly the Elder, taking to his home the youth intrusted to him, bred, controlled, fostered, and at last admitted him to baptism. After this he relaxed somewhat of his constant care and watchfulness, as having placed upon him the seal of the Lord, that last and best preservative from evil. But the other, having thus obtained his liberty too early, was taken hold of by certain idle and profligate youths of his own age, themselves habituated to wickedness. At first they lure him on by expensive revellings, next they carry him along with them on a thieving expedition by


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HE morning was so brilliantly fine; the populace popped to and fro in so active and cheery a manner; and everybody appeared to be so absolutely in the pink, that a casual observer of the city of New York would have said that it was one of those happy days. Yet Archie Moffam, as he turned out of the sun-bathed street into the ramshackle building on the third floor of which was the studio belonging to his artist friend, James B. Wheeler, was faintly oppressed with a sort of a kind of feeling that something was wrong. He would not have gone so far as to say that he had the pip—it was more a vague sense of discomfort. And, searching for first causes as he made his way upstairs, he came to the conclusion that the person responsible for this nebulous depression was his wife, Lucille. It seemed to Archie that at breakfast that morning Lucille's manner had been subtly rummy. Nothing you could put your finger on, still—rummy.

Musing thus, he reached the studio, and found the door open and the room empty. It had the air of a room whose owner has dashed in to fetch his golf-clubs and biffed off, after the casual fashion of the artist temperament, without bothering to close up behind him. And such, indeed, was the case. The studio had seen the

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Rh last of J. B. Wheeler for that day: but Archie, not realising this and feeling that a chat with Mr. Wheeler, who was a light-hearted bird, was what he needed this morning, sat down to wait. After a few moments, his gaze, straying over the room, encountered a handsomely framed picture, and he went across to take a look at it.

J. B. Wheeler was an artist who made a large annual income as an illustrator for the magazines, and it was a surprise to Archie to find that he also went in for this kind of thing. For the picture, dashingly painted in oils, represented a comfortably plump young woman who, from her rather weak-minded simper and the fact that she wore absolutely nothing except a small dove on her left shoulder, was plainly intended to be the goddess Venus. Archie was not much of a lad around the picture-galleries, but he knew enough about Art to recognise Venus when he saw her; though once or twice, it is true, artists had double-crossed him by ringing in some such title as "Day Dreams," or "When the Heart is Young."

He inspected this picture for awhile, then, returning to his seat, lit a cigarette and began to meditate on Lucille once more. Yes, the dear girl had been rummy at breakfast. She had not exactly said anything or done anything out of the ordinary; but—well, you know how it is. We husbands, we lads of the for-better-or-for-worse brigade, we learn to pierce the mask. There had been in Lucille's manner that curious, strained sweetness which comes to women whose husbands have failed to match the piece of silk or forgotten to post an important letter. If his conscience had not been as clear as crystal, Archie would have said that that was what must have

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 been the matter. But, when Lucille wrote letters, she just stepped out of the suite and dropped them in the mail-chute attached to the elevator. It couldn't be that. And he couldn't have forgotten anything else, because"

"Oh my sainted aunt!"

Archie's cigarette smouldered, neglected, between his fingers. His jaw had fallen and his eyes were staring glassily before him. He was appalled. His memory was weak, he knew; but never before had it let him down so scurvily as this. This was a record. It stood in a class by itself, printed in red ink and marked with a star, as the bloomer of a lifetime. For a man may forget many things: he may forget his name, his umbrella, his nationality, his spats, and the friends of his youth: but there is one thing which your married man, your in-sickness-and-in-health lizard must not forget: and that is the anniversary of his wedding-day.

Remorse swept over Archie like a wave. His heart bled for Lucille. No wonder the poor girl had been rummy at breakfast. What girl wouldn't be rummy at breakfast, tied for life to a ghastly outsider like himself? He groaned hollowly, and sagged forlornly in his chair: and, as he did so, the Venus caught his eye. For it was an eye-catching picture. You might like it or dislike it, but you could not ignore it.

As a strong swimmer shoots to the surface after a high dive, Archie's soul rose suddenly from the depths to which it had descended. He did not often get inspirations, but he got one now. Hope dawned with a jerk. The one way out had presented itself to him. A rich present! That was the wheeze. If he returned to her bearing a rich

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 night, and then they beg him to join them in some still greater crime. By little and little he became habituated to vice, and then through the hotness of his nature, starting like a hard-mouthed and spirited horse out of the right path, and taking as it were the bit into his mouth, rushed so much the more violently down the precipice. Finally despairing of the salvation which is by, he was no longer contented with more petty offences; but, as he was now altogether lost, would fain do some great thing, and disdained to suffer but an equal punishment with the rest. He took therefore with him these same companions, and having got together a band of robbers, became their ready leader, and of all the most violent, the most bloody, the most cruel.

An interval elapsed; and upon some need falling out in the Church, the men of the city again called upon John to visit them. After he had set in order the things for which he came, "Come," said he to the Bishop, "give me back the deposit which I and committed to thee in the sight of the Church over which you preside." The Bishop was at first amazed, for he thought that John was unjustly charging him with money which had not been really given him, and knew not either how to credit a demand for what he had never received, or how to discredit the Apostle. But when he said plainly, "It is the youth I demand of thee, the soul of a brother," the old man groaned from the bottom of his heart, and shedding a few tears at the thought, answered him, "He is dead." "How then did he die, and by what death?" "He is dead," he said, "to, for he has ended in becoming wicked and abandoned, and to sum up all, a robber, and now instead of the Church, he has taken to the hills with an armed band of robbers like himself." Then the Apostle tore his garment, and uttering a loud wail, beat his head, and said, "A careful guardian truly, I left of the soul of my brother, but bring me a horse, and let me have some one to guide me on my way. So he rode away from the Church, just as he was, and when he came to the place, being taken, by the outposts of the robbers, he neither fled from them, nor asked for mercy, but cried out, "For this purpose came I, bring me to your chief." He in the mean time, in the armour he wore, waited for his approach. When, however, he recognized St. John, as he drew near, he was filled with shame, and turned and fled. But the Apostle followed after him with all his strength,


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Rh present, he might, with the help of Heaven and a face of brass, succeed in making her believe that he had merely pretended to forget the vital date in order to enhance the surprise.

It was a scheme. Like some great general forming his plan of campaign on the eve of battle, Archie had the whole binge neatly worked out inside a minute. He scribbled a note to Mr. Wheeler, explaining the situation and promising reasonable payment on the instalment system; then, placing the note in a conspicuous position on the easel, he leaped to the telephone: and presently found himself connected with Lucille's room at the Cosmopolis.

"Hullo, darling," he cooed.

There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.

"Oh, hullo, Archie!"

Lucille's voice was dull and listless, and Archie's experienced ear could detect that she had been crying. He raised his right foot, and kicked himself indignantly on the left ankle.

"Many happy returns of the day, old thing!"

A muffled sob floated over the wire.

"Have you only just remembered?" said Lucille in a small voice.

Archie, bracing himself up, cackled gleefully into the receiver.

"Did I take you in, light of my home? Do you mean to say you really thought I had forgotten? For Heaven's sake!"

"You didn't say a word at breakfast."

"Ah, but that was all part of the devilish cunning. I hadn't got a present for you then. At least, I didn't know whether it was ready."

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284 "Oh, Archie, you darling!" Lucille's voice had lost its crushed melancholy. She trilled like a thrush, or a linnet, or any bird that goes in largely for trilling. "Have you really got me a present?"

"It's here now. The dickens of a fruity picture. One of J. B. Wheeler's things. You'll like it."

"Oh, I know I shall. I love his work. You are an angel. We'll hang it over the piano."

"I'll be round with it in something under three ticks, star of my soul. I'll take a taxi."

"Yes, do hurry! I want to hug you!"

"Right-o!" said Archie. "I'll take two taxis."

It is not far from Washington Square to the Hotel Cosmopolis, and Archie made the journey without mishap. There was a little unpleasantness with the cabman before starting—he, on the prudish plea that he was a married man with a local reputation to keep up, declining at first to be seen in company with the masterpiece. But, on Archie giving a promise to keep the front of the picture away from the public gaze, he consented to take the job on; and, some ten minutes later, having made his way blushfully through the hotel lobby and endured the frank curiosity of the boy who worked the elevator, Archie entered his suite, the picture under his arm.

He placed it carefully against the wall in order to leave himself more scope for embracing Lucille, and when the joyful reunion—or the sacred scene, if you prefer so to call it, was concluded, he stepped forward to turn it round and exhibit it.

"Why, it's enormous," said Lucille. "I didn't know Mr. Wheeler ever painted pictures that size. When you

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 forgetful of his years, and calling out, "Why do you fly from me, my son, me your father, unarmed, and stricken in years; pity me, my son, and fear me not. Thou hast yet hope of life. I will give account for thee to ; yea, if it be needful, I will willingly undergo the death for thee, even as our the death for us. For thee will I render up my breath. Stay and believe,  hath sent me." But the young man, when he heard his words, first stood still, with eyes cast down to the ground; next threw away his arms, and then trembling, wept bitterly. And when the old man drew nigh to him, he threw his arms around him, and besought pardon, as best he could, with his groans, and was baptized as it were a second time, with tears, hiding only his blood-stained hand. But John, with promises and solemn protestations of his having obtained his pardon from the, besought him, nay, knelt to him, and kissed the very right hand he had withheld from him, as already cleansed by change of heart; and so brought him back to the Church. Finally interceding for him, sometimes in frequent prayers, sometimes striving together with him in long continued fasts, and sometimes soothing his spirit with various holy text, he departed not, so they tell us, till he had fully reinstated him in the Church, and had thus set forth a mighty example of true change of heart, and a mighty proof of regeneration, a trophy as it were of a visible resurrection.

Here we see sinners baptized, taught, and brought to repentance by the holy Church, at the hands of the Bishops, whom the Apostles have appointed.


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 said it was one of his, I thought it must be the original of a magazine drawing or something like Oh!"

Archie had moved back and given her an uninterrupted view of the work of art, and she had started as if some unkindly disposed person had driven a bradawl into her.

"Pretty ripe, what?" said Archie enthusiastically.

Lucille did not speak for a moment. It may have been sudden joy that kept her silent. Or, on the other hand, it may not. She stood looking at the picture with wide eyes and parted lips.

"A bird, eh?" said Archie.

"Y-yes," said Lucille.

"I knew you'd like it," proceeded Archie with animation. "You see, you're by way of being a picture-hound—know all about the things, and what not—inherit it from the dear old dad, I shouldn't wonder. Personally, I can't tell one picture from another as a rule, but I'm bound to say, the moment I set eyes on this, I said to myself 'What ho!' or words to that effect. I rather think this will add a touch of distinction to the home, yes, no? I'll hang it up, shall I? 'Phone down to the office, light of my soul, and tell them to send up a nail, a bit of string, and the hotel hammer."

"One moment, darling. I'm not quite sure."

"Eh?"

"Where it ought to hang, I mean. You see"

"Over the piano, you said. The jolly old piano."

"Yes, but I hadn't seen it then."

A monstrous suspicion flitted for an instant into Archie's mind.

"I say, you do like it, don't you?" he said anxiously.

"Oh, Archie, darling! Of course I do! And it was so

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 sweet of you to give it to me. But, what I was trying to say was that this picture is so—so striking that I feel that we ought to wait a little while and decide where it would have the best effect. The light over the piano is rather strong."

"You thing it ought to hang in a dimmish light, what?"

"Yes, yes. The dimmer the I mean, yes, in a dim light. Suppose we leave it in the corner for the moment—over there—behind the sofa, and—and I'll think it over. It wants a lot of thought, you know."

"Right-o! Here?"

"Yes, that will do splendidly. Oh, and, Archie."

"Hullo?"

"I think perhaps … Just turn its face to the wall, will you?" Lucille gave a little gulp. "It will prevent it getting dusty."

It perplexed Archie a little during the next few days to notice in Lucille, whom he had always looked on as preëminently a girl who knew her own mind, a curious streak of vacillation. Quite half a dozen times he suggested various spots on the wall as suitable for the Venus, but Lucille seemed unable to decide. Archie wished that she would settle on something definite, for he wanted to invite J. B. Wheeler to the suite to see the thing. He had heard nothing from the artist since the day he had removed the picture, and one morning, encountering him on Broadway, he expressed his appreciation of the very decent manner in which the other had taken the whole affair.

"Oh, that!" said J. B. Wheeler. "My dear fellow, you're welcome." He paused for a moment "More than

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Rh welcome," he added. "You aren't much of an expert on pictures, are you?"

"Well," said Archie, "I don't know that you'd call me an absolute nib, don't you know, but of course I know enough to see that this particular exhibit is not a little fruity. Absolutely one of the best things you've ever done, laddie."

A slight purple tinge manifested itself in Mr. Wheeler's round and rosy face. His eyes bulged.

"What are you talking about, you Tishbite? You misguided son of Belial, are you under the impression that I painted that thing?"

"Didn't you?"

Mr. Wheeler swallowed a little convulsively.

"My fiancée painted it," he said shortly.

"Your fiancée? My dear old lad, I didn't know you were engaged. Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Her name is Alice Wigmore. You don't know her."

"And she painted that picture?" Archie was perturbed. "But, I say! Won't she be apt to wonder where the thing has got to?"

"I told her it had been stolen. She thought it a great compliment, and was tickled to death. So that's all right."

"And, of course, she'll paint you another."

"Not while I have my strength she won't," said J. B. Wheeler firmly. "She's given up painting since I taught her golf, thank goodness, and my best efforts shall be employed in seeing that she doesn't have a relapse."

"But, laddie," said Archie, puzzled, "you talk as though there were something wrong with the picture. I thought it dashed hot stuff."

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288 "God bless you!" said J. B. Wheeler.

Archie proceeded on his way, still mystified. Then he reflected that artists as a class were all pretty weird and rummy and talked more or less consistently through their hats. You couldn't ever take an artist's opinion on a picture. Nine out of ten of them had views on Art which would have admitted them to any looney-bin, and no questions asked. He had met several of the species who absolutely raved over things which any reasonable chappie would decline to be found dead in a ditch with. His admiration for the Wigmore Venus, which had faltered for a moment during his conversation with J. B. Wheeler, returned in all its pristine vigour. Absolute rot, he meant to say, to try to make out that it wasn't one of the ones and just like mother used to make. Look how Lucille had liked it!

At breakfast next morning, Archie once more brought up the question of the hanging of the picture. It was absurd to let a thing like that go on wasting its sweetness behind a sofa with its face to the wall.

"Touching the jolly old masterpiece," he said, "how about it? I think it's time we hoisted it up somewhere."

Lucille fiddled pensively with her coffee-spoon.

"Archie, dear," she said, "I've been thinking."

"And a very good thing to do," said Archie. "I've often meant to do it myself when I got a bit of time."

"About that picture, I mean. Did you know it was father's birthday to-morrow?"

"Why no, old thing, I didn't, to be absolutely honest. Your revered parent doesn't confide in me much these days, as a matter of fact."

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 "Well, it is. And I think we ought to give him a present."

"Absolutely. But how? I'm all for spreading sweetness and light, and cheering up the jolly old pater's sorrowful existence, but I haven't a bean. And, what is more, things have come to such a pass that I scan the horizon without seeing a single soul I can touch. I suppose I could get into Reggie van Tuyl's ribs for a bit, but—I don't know—touching poor old Reggie always seems to me rather like potting a sitting bird.

"Of course, I don't want you to do anything like that. I was thinking Archie, darling, would you be very hurt if I gave father the picture?"

"Oh, I say!"

"Well, I can't think of anything else."

"But wouldn't you miss it most frightfully?"

"Oh, of course I should. But you see—father's birthday"

Archie had always thought Lucille the dearest and most unselfish angel in the world, but never had the fact come home to him so forcibly as now. He kissed her fondly.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "You really are, you know! This is the biggest thing since jolly old Sir Philip What's-his-name gave the drink of water to the poor blighter whose need was greater than his, if you recall the incident. I had to sweat it up at school, I remember. Sir Philip, poor old bean, had a most ghastly thirst on, and he was just going to have one on the house, so to speak, when … but it's all in the history-books. This is the sort of thing Boy Scouts do! Well, of course, it's up to you, queen of my soul. If you feel like making the

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, Bishop of Alexandria, in noticing certain facts concerning the Revelation of St. John, derived from ancient tradition, makes mention of this Cerinthus, and affirms that the doctrine which he taught was, that the reign of Christ would be upon earth, and that it would consist, for so he wickedly dreamt in the pleasures, which he himself desired, being a lover of the body, and altogether carnal, in the gratification, that is, of the fleshly lusts, in meats namely, and drinks and marriages, or as he thought in fairer words, to reach the same meaning, in feastings, and in sacrifices, and in the slaughter of victims.

Thus far Dionysius; moreover certain of his more secret and false opinions are added by Irenæus, who has also handed down to us in writing a story, which ought never to be forgotten, and which he gives us on the authority of Polycarp, [the disciple of St. John himself, and whom Irenæus had known in his youth.] "John the Apostle," he says, "entering for the purpose of bathing into some public baths, and learning that Cerinthus was within them, recoiled from the spot, and rushed out of doors, not even enduring to be under the same roof with him; and exhorting them also that were with him to adopt the same conduct, in these words; 'Let us flee, lest the very building should fall in, within which Cerinthus, the enemy of the truth, is abiding.'"

Hence we learn to avoid false teachers, after the pattern of the Blessed Apostle, even though it inconvenience us to do so.


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290 sacrifice, right-o! Shall I bring the pater up here and show him the picture?"

"No, I shouldn't do that. Do you think you could get into his suite to-morrow morning and hang it up somewhere? You see, if he had the chance of—what I mean is, if—yes, I think it would be best to hang it up and let him discover it there."

"It would give him a surprise, you mean, what?"

"Yes."

Lucille sighed inaudibly. She was a girl with a conscience, and that conscience was troubling her a little. She agreed with Archie that the discovery of the Wigmore Venus in his artistically furnished suite would give Mr. Brewster a surprise. Surprise, indeed, was perhaps an inadequate word. She was sorry for her father, but the instinct of self-preservation is stronger than any other emotion.

Archie whistled merrily on the following morning as, having driven a nail into his father-in-law's wallpaper, he adjusted the cord from which the Wigmore Venus was suspended. He was a kind-hearted young man, and, though Mr. Daniel Brewster had on many occasions treated him with a good deal of austerity, his simple soul was pleased at the thought of doing him a good turn. He had just completed his work and was stepping cautiously down, when a voice behind him nearly caused him to overbalance.

"What the devil?"

Archie turned beamingly.

"Hullo, old thing! Many happy returns of the day!"

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 Mr. Brewster was standing in a frozen attitude. His strong face was slightly flushed.

"What—what?" he gurgled.

Mr. Brewster was not in one of his sunniest moods that morning. The proprietor of a large hotel has many things to disturb him, and to-day things had been going wrong. He had come up to his suite with the idea of restoring his shaken nerve-system with a quiet cigar, and the sight of his son-in-law had, as so frequently happened, made him feel worse than ever. But, when Archie had descended from the chair and moved aside to allow him an uninterrupted view of the picture, Mr. Brewster realised that a worse thing had befallen him than a mere visit from one who always made him feel that the world was a bleak place.

He stared at the Venus dumbly. Unlike most hotel-proprietors, Daniel Brewster was a connoisseur of Art. Connoisseuring was, in fact, his hobby. Even the public rooms of the Cosmopolis were decorated with taste, and his own private suite was a shrine of all that was best and most artistic. His tastes were quiet and restrained, and it is not too much to say that the Wigmore Venus hit him behind the ear like a stuffed eel-skin.

So great was the shock that for some moments it kept him silent, and before he could recover speech Archie had explained.

"It's a birthday present from Lucille, don't you know."

Mr. Brewster crushed down the breezy speech he had intended to utter.

"Lucille gave me—that?" he muttered.

He swallowed pathetically. He was suffering, but the iron courage of the Brewsters stood him in good stead.

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292 This man was no weakling. Presently the rigidity of his face relaxed. He was himself again. Of all things in the world he loved his daughter most, and if, in whatever mood of temporary insanity, she had brought herself to suppose that this beastly daub was the sort of thing he would like for a birthday present, he must accept the situation like a man. He would on the whole have preferred death to a life lived in the society of the Wigmore Venus, but even that torment must be endured if the alternative was the hurting of Lucille's feelings.

"I think I've chosen a pretty likely spot to hang the thing, what?" said Archie cheerfully. "It looks well alongside those Japanese prints, don't you think? Sort of stands out."

Mr. Brewster licked his dry lips and grinned a ghastly grin.

"It does stand out!" he agreed.

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RCHIE was not a man who readily allowed himself to become worried, especially about people who were not in his own immediate circle of friends, but in the course of the next week he was bound to admit that he was not altogether easy in his mind about his father-in-law's mental condition. He had read all sorts of things in the Sunday papers and elsewhere about the constant strain to which captains of industry are subjected, a strain which sooner or later is only too apt to make the victim go all blooey, and it seemed to him that Mr. Brewster was beginning to find the going a trifle too tough for his stamina. Undeniably he was behaving in an odd manner, and Archie, though no physician, was aware that, when the American business-man, that restless, ever-active human machine, starts behaving in an odd manner, the next thing you know is that two strong men, one attached to each arm, are hurrying him into the cab bound for Bloomingdale.

He did not confide his misgivings to Lucille, not wishing to cause her anxiety. He hunted up Reggie van Tuyl at the club, and sought advice from him.

"I say, Reggie, old thing—present company excepted—have there been any loonies in your family?"

Reggie stirred in the slumber which always gripped him in the early afternoon.

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294 "Loonies?" he mumbled, sleeplysleepily [sic]. "Rather! My uncle Edgar thought he was twins."

"Twins, eh?"

"Yes. Silly idea! I mean, you'd have thought one of my uncle Edgar would have been enough for any man."

"How did the thing start?" asked Archie.

"Start? Well, the first thing we noticed was when he began wanting two of everything. Had to set two places for him at dinner and so on. Always wanted two seats at the theatre. Ran into money, I can tell you."

"He didn't behave rummily up till then? I mean to say, wasn't sort of jumpy and all that?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

Archie's tone became grave.

"Well, I'll tell you, old man, though I don't want it to go any farther, that I'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law. I believe he's about to go in off the deep-end. I think he's cracking under the strain. Dashed weird his behaviour has been the last few days."

"Such as?" murmured Mr. van Tuyl.

"Well, the other morning I happened to be in his suite—incidentally he wouldn't go above ten dollars, and I wanted twenty-five—and he suddenly picked up a whacking big paper-weight and bunged it for all he was worth."

"At you?"

"Not at me. That was the rummy part of it. At a mosquito on the wall, he said. Well, I mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weights at mosquitoes? I mean, is it done?"

"Smash anything?"

"Curiously enough, no. But he only just missed a

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Rh rather decent picture which Lucille had given him for his birthday. Another foot to the left and it would have been a goner."

"Sounds queer."

"And, talking of that picture, I looked in on him about a couple of afternoons later, and he'd taken it down from the wall and laid it on the floor and was staring at it in a dashed marked sort of manner. That was peculiar, what?"

"On the floor?"

"On the jolly old carpet. When I came in, he was goggling at it in a sort of glassy way. Absolutely rapt, don't you know. My coming in gave him a start—seemed to rouse him from a kind of trance, you know—and he jumped like an antelope; and, if I hadn't happened to grab him, he would have trampled bang on the thing. It was deuced unpleasant, you know. His manner was rummy. He seemed to be brooding on something. What ought I to do about it, do you think? It's not my affair, of course, but it seems to me that, if he goes on like this, one of these days he'll be stabbing someone with a pickle-fork."

To Archie's relief, his father-in-law's symptoms showed no signs of development. In fact, his manner reverted to the normal once more, and a few days later, meeting Archie in the lobby of the hotel, he seemed quite cheerful. It was not often that he wasted his time talking to his son-in-law, but on this occasion he chatted with him for several minutes about the big picture-robbery which had formed the chief item of news on the front pages of the morning papers that day. It was Mr. Brewster's

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296 opinion that the outrage had been the work of a gang, and that nobody was safe.

Daniel Brewster had spoken of this matter with a strange earnestness, but his words had slipped from Archie's mind when he made his way that night to his father-in-law's suite. Archie was in an exalted mood. In the course of dinner he had had a bit of good news which was occupying his thoughts to the exclusion of all other matters. It had left him in a comfortable, if rather dizzy, condition of benevolence to all created things. He had smiled at the room-clerk as he crossed the lobby, and, if he had had a dollar, he would have given it to the boy who took him up in the elevator.

He found the door of the Brewster suite unlocked, which at any other time would have struck him as unusual; but to-night he was in no frame of mind to notice these trivialities. He went in, and, finding the room dark and no one at home, sat down, too absorbed in his thoughts to switch on the lights, and gave himself up to dreamy meditation.

There are certain moods in which one loses count of time, and Archie could not have said how long he had been sitting in the deep arm-chair near the window when he first became aware that he was not alone in the room. He had closed his eyes, the better to meditate, so had not seen anyone enter. Nor had he heard the door open. The first intimation he had that somebody had come in was when some hard substance knocked against some other hard object, producing a sharp sound which brought him back to earth with a jerk.

He sat up silently. The fact that the room was still in darkness made it obvious that something nefarious was

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Rh afoot. Plainly there was dirty work in preparation at the cross-roads. He stared into the blackness, and, as his eyes grew accustomed to it, was presently able to see an indistinct form bending over something on the floor. The sound of rather stertorous breathing came to him.

Archie had many defects which prevented him being the perfect man, but lack of courage was not one of them. His somewhat rudimentary intelligence had occasionally led his superior officers during the war to thank God that Great Britain had a Navy, but even these stern critics had found nothing to complain of in the manner in which he bounded over the top. Some of us are thinkers, others men of action. Archie was a man of action, and he was out of his chair and sailing in the direction of the back of the intruder's neck before a wiser man would have completed his plan of campaign. The miscreant collapsed under him with a squashy sound, like the wind going out of a pair of bellows, and Archie, taking a firm seat on his spine, rubbed the other's face in the carpet and awaited the progress of events.

At the end of half a minute it became apparent that there was going to be no counter-attack. The dashing swiftness of the assault had apparently had the effect of depriving the marauder of his entire stock of breath. He was gurgling to himself in a pained sort of way and making no effort to rise. Archie, feeling that it would be safe to get up and switch on the light, did so, and, turning after completing this manœuvre, was greeted by the spectacle of his father-in-law, seated on the floor in a breathless and dishevelled condition, blinking at the sudden illumination. On the carpet beside Mr. Brewster lay a long knife, and beside the knife lay the handsomely

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 framed masterpiece of J. B. Wheeler's fiancée, Miss Alice Wigmore. Archie stared at this collection dumbly.

"Oh, what-ho!" he observed at length, feebly.

A distinct chill manifested itself in the region of Archie's spine. This could mean only one thing. His fears had been realised. The strain of modern life, with all its hustle and excitement, had at last proved too much for Mr. Brewster. Crushed by the thousand and one anxieties and worries of a millionaire's existence, Daniel Brewster had gone off his onion.

Archie was nonplussed. This was his first experience of this kind of thing. What, he asked himself, was the proper procedure in a situation of this sort? What was the local rule? Where, in a word, did he go from here? He was still musing in an embarrassed and baffled way, having taken the precaution of kicking the knife under the sofa, when Mr. Brewster spoke. And there was in both the words and the method of their delivery so much of his old familiar self that Archie felt quite relieved.

"So it's you, is it, you wretched blight, you miserable weed!" said Mr. Brewster, having recovered enough breath to be going on with. He glowered at his son-in-law despondently. "I might have expected it! If I was at the North Pole, I could count on you butting in!"

"Shall I get you a drink of water?" said Archie.

"What the devil," demanded Mr. Brewster, "do you imagine I want with a drink of water?"

"Well" Archie hesitated delicately. "I had a sort of idea that you had been feeling the strain a bit. I mean to say, rush of modern life and all that sort of thing"

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 "What are you doing in my room?" said Mr. Brewster, changing the subject.

"Well, I came to tell you something, and I came in here and was waiting for you, and I saw some chappie biffing about in the dark, and I thought it was a burglar or something after some of your things, so, thinking it over, I got the idea that it would be a fairly juicy scheme to land on him with both feet. No idea it was you, old thing! Frightfully sorry and all that. Meant well!"

Mr. Brewster sighed deeply. He was a just man, and he could not but realise that, in the circumstances, Archie had behaved not unnaturally.

"Oh, well!" he said. "I might have known something would go wrong."

"Awfully sorry!"

"It can't be helped. What was it you wanted to tell me?" He eyed his son-in-law piercingly. "Not a cent over twenty dollars!" he said coldly.

Archie hastened to dispel the pardonable error.

"Oh, it wasn't anything like that," he said. "As a matter of fact, I think it's a good egg. It has bucked me up to no inconsiderable degree. I was dining with Lucille just now, and, as we dallied with the food-stuffs, she told me something which—well, I'm bound to say, it made me feel considerably braced. She told me to trot along and ask you if you would mind"

"I gave Lucille a hundred dollars only last Tuesday."

Archie was pained.

"Adjust this sordid outlook, old thing!" he urged. "You simply aren't anywhere near it. Right off the target, absolutely! What Lucille told me to ask you was if you would mind—at some tolerably near date—being a

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 grandfather! Rotten thing to be, of course," proceeded Archie commiseratingly, "for a chappie of your age, but there it is!"

Mr. Brewster gulped.

"Do you mean to say?"

"I mean, apt to make a fellow feel a bit of a patriarch. Snowy hair and what not. And, of course, for a chappie in the prime of life like you"

"Do you mean to tell me? Is this true?"

"Absolutely! Of course, speaking for myself, I'm all for it. I don't know when I've felt more bucked. I sang as I came up here—absolutely warbled in the elevator. But you"

A curious change had come over Mr. Brewster. He was one of those men who have the appearance of having been hewn out of the solid rock, but now in some indescribable way he seemed to have melted. For a moment he gazed at Archie, then, moving quickly forward, he grasped his hand in an iron grip.

"This is the best news I've ever had!" he mumbled.

"Awfully good of you to take it like this," said Archie cordially. "I mean, being a grandfather"

Mr. Brewster smiled. Of a man of his appearance one could hardly say that he smiled playfully; but there was something in his expression that remotely suggested playfulness.

"My dear old bean," he said.

Archie started.

"My dear old bean," repeated Mr. Brewster firmly, "I'm the happiest man in America!" His eye fell on the picture which lay on the floor. He gave a slight shudder, but recovered himself immediately. "After this,"

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 (Communicated in the meeting of October 28, 1916).

§ 53. The expressions for the stress-energy-components of the gravitation field found in the preceding paper call for some further remarks. If by $$\delta_{h}^{e}$$ we denote a quantity having the value 1 for $$e = h$$ and being 0 for $$e\ne h$$, those expressions can be written in the form (comp. equations (52) and (78))

They contain the first and second derivatives of the quantities $$g_{ab}$$. on the contrary has given values for the stress-energy-components which contain the first derivatives only and which therefore are in many respects much more fit for application.

It will now be shown how we can also find formulae without second derivatives, if we start from (88).

§ 54. For this purpose we shall consider the complex $$\mathfrak{u}$$ defined by

and we shall seek its divergency.

We have

$(div\ \mathfrak{u})_{h} =\sum(e)\frac{\partial\mathfrak{u}^{e}}{\partial x_{e}}=\frac{1}{2\varkappa}\left\{ \frac{\partial Q}{\partial x_{h}}-\sum(abfe)\frac{Q^{2}}{\partial x_{e}\partial x_{h}}\left(\frac{\partial Q}{\partial g_{ab,fe}}g_{ab,f}\right)\right\} $|undefined

or

if we put

Now $$Q=\sqrt{-g}G$$ can be divided into two parts, the first of which $$Q_{1}$$ contains differential coefficients of the quantities $$g_{ab}$$ of the first order only, while the second $$Q_{2}$$ is a homogeneous linear function

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 he said, "I can reconcile myself to living with that thing for the rest of my life. I feel it doesn't matter."

"I say," said Archie, "how about that? Wouldn't have brought the thing up if you hadn't introduced the topic, but, speaking as man to man, what the dickens were you up to when I landed on your spine just now?"

"I suppose you thought I had gone off my head?"

"Well, I'm bound to say"

Mr. Brewster cast an unfriendly glance at the picture.

"Well, I had every excuse, after living with that infernal thing for a week!"

Archie looked at him, astonished.

"I say, old thing, I don't know if I have got your meaning exactly, but you somehow give me the impression that you don't like that jolly old work of Art."

"Like it!" cried Mr. Brewster. "It's nearly driven me mad! Every time it caught my eye, it gave me a pain in the neck. To-night I felt as if I couldn't stand it any longer. I didn't want to hurt Lucille's feelings by telling her, so I made up my mind I would cut the damned thing out of its frame and tell her it had been stolen."

"What an extraordinary thing! Why, that's exactly what old Wheeler did."

"Who is old Wheeler?"

"Artist chappie. Pal of mine. His fiancée painted the thing, and, when I lifted it off him, he told her it had been stolen. He didn't seem frightfully keen on it, either."

"Your friend Wheeler has evidently good taste."

Archie was thinking.

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 of the second derivatives of those quantities. This latter involves that, if we replace (91) by

$R=Q_{1}+Q_{2}-\sum(abfe)\left(\frac{\partial Q}{\partial g_{ab,fe}}g_{ab,fe}\right)-\sum(abfe)\frac{\partial}{\partial x_{e}}\left(\frac{\partial Q}{\partial g_{ab,fe}}\right)g_{ab,f}$|undefined

the second and the third term annul each other. Thus

If now we define a complex $$\mathfrak{v}$$ by the equation

we have

If finally we put

$\mathfrak{t'=t+u+v}$

we infer from (90) and (94)

and from (88), (89), (93) and (92)

and for $$e\ne h$$

Formula (95) shows that the quantities $$\mathfrak{t}_{h}^{'e}$$ can be taken just as well as the expressions (88) for the stress-energy-components and we see from (96) and (97) that these new expressions contain only the first derivatives of the coefficients $$g_{ab}$$; they are homogeneous quadratic functions of these differential coefficients.

This becomes clear when we remember that $$Q_{1}$$ is a function of this kind and that only $$Q_{1}$$ contributes something to the second term of (96) and the first of (97); further that the derivatives of $$Q$$ occurring in the following terms contain only the quantities $$g_{ab}$$ and not their derivatives.

§ 55. 's stress-energy-components have a form widely different from that of the above mentioned ones. They are

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 $\mathfrak{t}_{(E)h}^{e}=\frac{1}{2\varkappa}\delta_{h}^{e}\sum(abcf)g^{ab}\Gamma_{ac}^{f}\Gamma_{bf}^{c}-\frac{1}{\varkappa}\sum(abc)g^{ab}\Gamma_{ac}^{e}\Gamma_{bh}^{c}$

where for the sake of simplicity it has been assumed that $$\sqrt{-g}=1$$. Further we have

$\Gamma_{ab}^{c}=-\left\{ \begin{array}{c} ab\\ c \end{array}\right\} =-\sum(e)g^{ce}\left[\begin{array}{c} ab\\ e \end{array}\right]$

If now our formulae (96) and (97) are likewise simplified by the assumption $$\sqrt{-g}=1$$ (so that $$Q$$ becomes equal to $$G$$), we may expect that $$\mathfrak{t}'$$ will become identical with $$\mathfrak{t}_{(E)}$$. This is really so in the case $$g_{ab}=0$$ for $$a\ne b$$; by which it seems very probable that the agreement will exist in general.

In the preceding paper it was shown already that the stress-energy-components $$\mathfrak{t}_{h}^{e}$$ do not form a "tensor", but what was called a "complex". The same may be said of the quantities $$\mathfrak{t}_{h}^{'e}$$ defined by (96) and (97) and of the expressions given by. If we want a stress-energy-tensor, there are only left the quantities $$\mathfrak{t}_{0h}^{e}$$ defined by (86) and (57), the values of which are always equal and opposite to the corresponding stress-energy-components $$\mathfrak{T}_{h}^{e}$$ for the matter or the electromagnetic field.

It must be noticed that the four equations

$\sum(e)\frac{\partial}{\partial x_{e}}\left(\mathfrak{T}_{h}^{e}+\mathfrak{T}_{(g)h}^{e}\right)=0$|undefined

always express the same relations, whether we choose $$\mathfrak{t}_{0h}^{e},\ \mathfrak{t}_{h}^{e},\ \mathfrak{t}_{h}^{'e}$$ or $$\mathfrak{t}_{(E)h}^{e}$$ as stress-energy-components $$\mathfrak{T}_{(g)h}^{e}$$ of the gravitation field. If however in a definite case we want to use the equations in order to calculate how the momentum and the energy of the matter and the electromagnetic field change by the gravitational actions, it is best to use $$\mathfrak{t}_{h}^{'e}$$ or $$\mathfrak{t}_{(E)h}^{e}$$, just because these quantities are homogeneous quadratic functions of the derivatives $$g_{ab,c}$$.

Experience namely teaches us that the gravitation fields occurring in nature may be regarded as feeble, in this sense that the values of the $$g_{ab}$$'s are little different from those which might be assumed if no gravitation field existed. For these latter values, which will be called the "normal" ones, we may write in orthogonal coordinates

In a first approximation, which most times will be sufficient, the deviations of the values of the $$g_{ab}$$'s from these normal ones may be taken proportional to the gravitation constant $$\varkappa$$. This factor also appears in the differential coefficients $$g_{ab,c}$$; hence, according to the character of the functions $$\mathfrak{t}_{h}^{'e}$$ mentioned above (and on account

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 of the factor $$\tfrac{1}{\varkappa}$$ in (96) and (97)) these functions become proportional to $$\varkappa$$, so that in a feeble gravitation field they have low values.

§ 56. Because of the complicated form of equations (96) and (97), we shall confine ourselves to the calculation for some cases of $$\mathfrak{t}_{4}^{'4}$$, i.e. of the energy per unit of volume. This calculation is considerably simplified if we consider stationary fields only. Then all differential coefficients with respect to $$x_{4}$$ vanish, so that we have according to (96)

We shall work out the calculation, first for a field without gravitation and secondly for the case of an attracting spherical body in which the matter is distributed symmetrically round the centre.

If there is no gravitation field we may take for the quantities $$g_{ab}$$ the "normal" values. For the case of orthogonal coordinates these are given by (98). When we want to use the polar coordinates introduced into § 48 we have the corresponding formulae

{{MathForm2|(100)|$$\left.\begin{array}{c} g_{11}=-\frac{r^{2}}{1-x_{1}^{2}},\ g_{22}=-r^{2}\left(1-x_{1}^{2}\right),\ g_{33}=-1,\ g_{44}=c^{2},\\ \\ g_{ab}=0,\quad\textrm{for}\quad a\ne b \end{array}\right\} $$}}

If, using polar coordinates, we have to do with an attracting sphere and if we take its centre as origin, we may put

where $$u, v, w$$ are functions of $$r$$. The $$g_{ab}$$'s which belong to an orthogonal system of coordinates may be expressed in the same functions.

These $$g_{ab}$$'s are

$\begin{array}{l} g_{11}=-\frac{u}{r^{2}}+\frac{x_{1}^{2}}{r^{2}}\left(\frac{u}{r^{2}}-v\right),\ etc.\\ \\ g_{12}=\frac{x_{1}x_{2}}{r^{2}}\left(\frac{u}{r^{2}}-v\right),\ etc.\\ \\ g_{14}=g_{24}=g_{34}=0,\ g_{44}=w. \end{array}$|undefined

The "etc." means that for $$g_{22},g_{33}$$ we have similar expressions as for $$g_{11}$$ and for$$g_{23},g_{31}$$ similar ones as for $$g_{12}$$.

§ 57. In order to deduce the differential equations determining $$u, v, w$$ we may arbitrarily use rectangular or polar coordinates; the latter however are here to be preferred. If differentiations

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 with respect to $$r$$ are indicated by accents, we have according to (40) and (101)

$\begin{array}{l} G_{11}=\frac{1}{1-x_{1}^{2}}\left(-1+\frac{u''}{2v}-\frac{u'v'}{4v^{2}}+\frac{u'w'}{4vw}\right),\\ \\ G_{22}=\left(1-x_{1}^{2}\right)\left(-1+\frac{u''}{2v}-\frac{u'v'}{4v^{2}}+\frac{u'w'}{4vw}\right),\\ \\ G_{33}=\frac{u}{u}-\frac{u'^{2}}{2u^{2}}-\frac{u'v'}{2uv}-\frac{v'w'}{4vw}+\frac{w}{2w}-\frac{w'^{2}}{4w^{2}},\\ \\ G_{44}=-\frac{u'w'}{2uv}+\frac{v'w'}{4v^{2}}-\frac{w''}{2v}+\frac{w'^{2}}{4vw}, \end{array}$|undefined

$G_{ab}=0$ for $a\ne b$

So we have found the left hand sides of the field equations (65). Before considering these equations more closely we shall introduce the simplification that the $$g_{ab}$$'s, are very little different from the normal values (100). For these latter we have

and therefore we now put

The quantities $$\lambda,\mu,\nu$$, which depend on r, will be regarded as infinitely small of the first order and in the field equations we shall neglect quantities of second and higher orders.

Then we may write for $$G_{11}$$ etc.

$\begin{array}{l} G_{11}=\frac{1}{1-x_{1}^{2}}\left(\lambda+2r\lambda'+\frac{1}{2}r^{2}\lambda''-\mu-\frac{1}{2}r\mu'+\frac{1}{2}r\nu'\right)\\ \\ G_{22}=1-x_{1}^{2}\left(\lambda+2r\lambda'+\frac{1}{2}r^{2}\lambda''-\mu-\frac{1}{2}r\mu'+\frac{1}{2}r\nu'\right)\\ \\ G_{33}=\frac{2}{r}\lambda'+\lambda-\frac{1}{r}\mu'+\frac{1}{2}\nu,\\ \\ G_{44}=-c^{2}\left(\frac{1}{r}\nu'+\frac{1}{2}\nu''\right) \end{array}$|undefined

On the right hand-sides of the field equations (65) we may take for $$g_{ab}$$ the normal value; moreover we shall take for $$T_{ab}$$ and $$T$$ the values which hold for a system of incoherent material points. We may do so if we assume no other internal stresses but those caused by the mutual attractions; these stresses may be neglected in the present approximation.

As we supposed the attracting matter to be at rest we have according to (10), (16) and (15) (1915) $$w_{1}=w_{2}=w_{3}=0$$, $$w_{4}=\varrho$$, $$u_{1}=u_{2}=u_{3}=0$$, $$u_{4}=c^{2}\varrho$$, $$P=c\varrho$$.

In the notations we are now using we have further, according to (23) (1915),

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