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 even the days of the month and the twenty-four hours of day and night, became the great and everlasting gods.

There is another Egyptian expression extremely frequent in the religious texts, the accurate meaning of which has never been recognized. Em ser en maāt is now generally allowed to mean "rightly," "perfectly," but it does not literally signify "in calculo veritatis," as Brugsch says in his Lexicon. Ser is the measuring line used by builders, and em ser signifies "ad amussim," "nach der Schnur," "au cordeau," "according to the line;" hence, "with the strictest accuracy." The whole expression therefore means, "according to the strict accuracy of Law," to which is constantly added, hehu en sep, "millions of times." Maāt is Law, not in the forensic sense of a command issued either by a human sovereign authority or by a divine legislator, like the Law of the Hebrews, but in the sense of that unerring order which governs the


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 universe, whether in its physical or in its moral aspect. This is surely a great and noble conception.

You will not be surprised to learn that Maāt is spoken of as a mythical personage. She is called mistress of heaven, ruler of earth and president of the nether world, which indeed is recognized as her special domain. She is called the daughter of Rā, but she might as truly have been called his mother. Each of the great gods is said to be neb maāt, literally, "lord or master of Maāt;" but it is equally said that "she knows no lord or master." If she is brought into closer connection with Thoth than with other gods, this is because Thoth is essentially the "Measurer;" and if certain texts speak of the winds as proceeding from either Thoth or Maāt, it is not because these personages are wind-gods, but because the cardinal points from which the winds come are naturally the domain of the god who has measured and mapped out the universe, and because the winds themselves are obedient to Law.

Such were the gods of Egypt. They were not the ghosts of ancestors or other dead men, or representatives of abstract principles, as ancient and modern philosophers have supposed, nor were they impure spirits or foul demons, as an uncritical though not unnatural interpretation of their Scriptures led the early Christian missionaries to imagine. "All the gods of the nations are nought," says the Psalmist; but the Greek and Latin translators used the word "dæmonia," which

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 in Christian times never meant anything but "devils." The gods of the Egyptian, as well as those of the Indian, Greek or Teutonic mythologies, were the "powers" of nature, the "strong ones," whose might was seen and felt to be irresistible, yet so constant, unchanging and orderly in its operations, as to leave no doubt as to the presence of an ever living and active Intelligence.


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To show thereby that He was really dead.

And He made His grave with the wicked, and with the rich in His death; because He had done no violence, neither was any deceit in His mouth. Isa. 53, 9.

1 Cor. 15, 3. 4.

Our death is not a satisfaction for our sin, but only a dying to sins and entering into eternal life.

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Phil. 1, 21.

That by His power our old man is with Him crucified, slain and buried; that so the evil lusts of the flesh may no more reign in us, but that we may offer ourselves unto Him a sacrifice of thanksgiving.

title: Page:Heidelberg catechism.pdf/33


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Page:Cadet Handbook and Section Roll.pdf/20

 {|
 * + (a) REGIMENTAL DUTIES. For Rank of Colour-Sergeant.
 * | Subject.
 * | Text Books.
 * | Organization and training of Senior Cadets; appointment and promotion of Senior Cadets to be non-commissioned officers and officers; discipline
 * | U.T. Regulations, Part III., 25-33, 44-48.
 * }
 * | U.T. Regulations, Part III., 25-33, 44-48.
 * }


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Author:John James Taylor

Works

 * Retrospect of the Religious Life of England

title: Author:John James Taylor


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 Wells, Charles, 2s. George, of Wiston, Sussex, cler. , matric. 5 March, 1825, aged 18; fellow 1825-34, B.A. 1829, M.A. 1832, curate of Beeding, Sussex, died 27 May, 1834, brother of Edward 1831, and of Francis B. 1830, etc.  Wells, Charles Arthur, 3s. George, of Boxford, Berks, cler. , matric. 20 Jan., 1864, aged 19, B.A. 1871; assistant-chaplain at Riga 1873-5, etc.  Wells, Charles William, 1s. William, of Cricklade, Wilts, gent. , matric. 21 Nov., 1822, aged 21.  Wells, Christopher, s. Nath., of Cardiff, co. Glamorgan, pleb. , matric. 28 March, 1721, aged 15; B.A. 1724, M.A. 1727, B.D. 1735.  Wells, Christopher, s. Nathaniel, of Cardiff, co. Glamorgan, cler. , matric. 15 July, 1774, aged 25; army chaplain, rector of Leigh, co. Worcester, 1784, died at Bangalore 1792.  [5]

Wells, Dymoke, s. Robert, of Lea, co. Lincoln, doctor. , matric. 14 Feb., 1791, aged 18; of Grebby Hall, co. Lincoln, died 12 Aug., 1832.  Wells, Edward, 6s. George, of Wiston, Sussex, cler. , matric. 10 Nov., 1831, aged 16; fellow New Coll. 1832-43, B.A. 1836, M.A. 1839, B.Med. 1840; Radcliffe travelling fellow 1840-9, D.Med. 1845, surgeon Reading Hospital, died in 1885, brother of Charles 1825, and of Francis B. 1830, etc.  Wells, Edward, 1s. Edward Cornish, of Halesworth, Suffolk, cler. , matric. 15 March, 1849, aged 18; B.A. 1852, held various curacies 1854-69, consular chaplain Rotterdam 1869-74, rector of St. John's, March, co. Cambridge, 1872 (curate 1863-9).

Wells, Edward, 1s. Edward, of Wallingford, Berks, arm. , matric. 11 Oct., 1872, aged 18; B.A. 1876, a student of the Inner Temple 1875, vicar of Hempstead, Herts, 1880-4, rector of West Dean, Wilts. 1886, brother of Alfred C.

Wells, Edward Arthur, 2s. Algernon W., of Hackney, Middlesex, gent. , matric. 27 June, 1870, aged 18; scholar 1870-7, B.A. 1874, M.A. 1877, brother of George Henry. See Robinson, 346.
 [10]

Wells, Edward Cornish, o.s. Edward, of Lowestoft, Suffolk, arm. , matric. 14 Jan., 1819, aged 19; B.A. 1823, M.A. 1826, chaplain to the County Gaol (Bury St. Edmund's) 1847, until his death 3 Dec., 1870, father of Edward 1849.

Wells, Eudo George Gresham, o.s. Mordaunt Lawson, of London, equitis. , matric. 16 Oct., 1861, aged 20; B.A. 1865, M.A. 1867, sometime curate of Great Marlow, Bucks, bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1876. See Foster's Men at the Bar & Rugby School Reg.

Wells, Francis Ballard, 5s. George, of Wiston, Sussex, cler. , matric. 27 May, 1830, aged 19; demy 1832-41, B.A. 1835, M.A. 1836, private secretary to Archbishop Howley 1837-42, rector of Woodchurch, Kent, 1841, until his death 21 March, 1888, brother of Charles 1825, and of Edward 1831, etc. See Bloxam, vii. 331.

Wells, Frederick Burd, 5s. Walter Warwick, of Cheltenham, arm. , matric. 17 Jan., 1880, aged 19; commoner, died 3 June, 1881.

Wells, George, s. John, of Manningford Bruce, Wilts, cler. , matric. 30 March, 1757, aged 17; B.A. 1760, M.A. 1773, D.C.L. 1773, rector of Manningford Bruce at his death 26 Aug., 1815, father of John 1789, and of the next named.
 [15]

Wells, George, s. George, of Manningford, Wilts, cler. , matric. 24 Jan., 1787, aged 19; B.C.L. 1794, rector of Wiston, Sussex, 1796, preb. of Chichester 1822, rector of Alborne 1826, until his death 24 May, 1839, father of Charles 1825, Edward 1831. Francis B., Henry 1828, and of the next named.

Wells, George, 1s. George, of Wiston, Sussex, cler. , matric. 21 June, 1821, aged 18; demy 1823-9, B.A. 1825, M.A. 1828, fellow 1829-35, junior dean of arts 1831, bursar 1834, curate of Tadmarton, Oxon, 1827-9, of Boxford, Berks, 1830-42, rector 1842, until his death 11 June, 1872. See Bloxam, vii. 289.

Wells, Rev. George Ashton, 1s. Henry George, of Kingston, Surrey, cler. , matric. 18 April, 1856, aged 19; B.A. 1860, M.A. 1863.

Wells, George Francis, 1s. George, of Woodspeen, Berks, cler. , matric. 18 Jan., 1856, aged 19; B.A. 1860, held various curacies 1860-72, rector (and patron) of Boxford, Berks, 1872.

Wells, George Henry, 3s. Algernon, of London, arm. , matric. 17 Oct., 1874, aged 18; scholar 1874-81, B.A. 1878, M.A. 1881, under-master Merchant Taylors' School, brother of Edward Arthur. See Robinson, 362.
 [20]

Wells, Henry, 3s. George, of Wiston, Sussex, cler. , matric. 27 March, 1828, aged 19; B.A. 1831, brother of Charles 1825, etc.

Wells, Henry George, 2s. John, of Blackwall, Middlesex, arm. , matric. 1 April, 1824, aged 18; B.A. 1829, M.A. 1837, rector of Kingsworthy, Hants, 1841, until his death 18 Aug., 1852. See Eton School Lists.

Wells, Rev. Herbert Methuen, 2s. Thomas Frederick, of Wallingford, Berks, gent. , matric. 14 Oct., 1882, aged 20; B.A. 1885.

Wells, Hubert Hedworth Grenville, 2s. Granville Grenville, of London, arm. , matric. 23 Nov., 1876, aged 19. See Eton School Lists.

Wells, James, s. John, of Cricklade, Wilts, gent. , matric. 10 Oct., 1721, aged 18; B.A. 1725.
 [25]

Wells, John, s. John, of Leigh, co. Gloucester, gent. , matric. 14 May, 1741, aged 17. See Gent.'s Mag., 1803, i. 478.

Wells, John, s. George, of Manningford Bruce, Wilts, doctor. , matric. 7 July, 1789, aged 19; B.A. 1793, M.A. 1797, rector of Boxford, Berks, 1805, until his death 20 July, 1842.

Wells, John, 2s. Thomas, of Witney, Oxon, gent. , matric. 24 June, 1823, aged 35; B.A. 1827. See Gent.'s Mag., 1851, i. 446; See Eton School Lists.

Wells, John, 1s. James Henry, of Nailsworth, co. Gloucester, gent. , matric. 9 May, 1860, aged 17; exhibitioner 1861-5, B.A. 1866, M.A. 1868.

Wells, John Tighe, y.s. Nathaniel, of Piercefield St. Arvans, co. Monmouth, arm. , matric. 8 March, 1827, aged 18; B.A. 1830.
 [30]

Wells, Jonathan, s. Jonathan, of Kingston, Surrey, gent. , matric. 5 April, 1743, aged 18; B.A. 1745.

Wells, Joseph, s. John, of Manningford, Wilts, cler. , matric. 2 July, 1745, aged 16; B.A. from 1749, M.A. 1753, B.D. 1761, rector of Letcomb Bassett, Berks, 1763-78, and Everley, Wilts, 1769, died in May, 1805.

Wells, Joseph, s. Richard, of Cookham, Berks, cler. , matric. 21 April, 1773, aged 17; B.A. 1777, M.A. 1781, B. & D.D. 1804, of Cowley Place, Exeter, F.A.S., rector of Croughton, Northants, and of Ellesborough, Bucks, died 14 March, 1818.

Wells, Joseph, 3s. Thomas William, of Reading, gent. , matric. 23 Oct., 1875, aged 19, scholar 1875-9, B.A. 1879, M.A. 1882; fellow 1882, junior bursar and lecturer, tutor 1883.
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 Trotter, Henry Eden, 3s. William Brown (after Trotter), of Wimbledon, Surrey, arm. , matric. 27 May, 1863, aged 18; B.A. 1868, M.A. 1870, vicar of Northam, Hants, 1873-83.  Trotter, Henry John, 2s. William, of Bishop Auckland, co. Durham, arm. , matric. 25 Oct., 1855, aged 19; B.A. 1859, M.A. 1862, of Langton Grange, co. Durham, J.P., D.L., bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1864, F.S.A., M.P. Colchester 1885. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Trotter, John George, 1s. Thomas Lowis, of Great Stainton, co. Durham, cler. , matric. 17 Oct., 1868, aged 20; B.A. 1872, M.A. 1878, vicar of Polesworth, co. Warwick, 1882, brother of Thomas Henry.

Trotter, Lionel James, 1s. Edward, of Calcutta, East Indies, arm. , matric. 24 May, 1845, aged 17; postmaster 1845-7.

Trotter, Nathaniel, s. Ralph, of Newbold Verdon, co. Leicester, gent. , matric. 26 March, 1743, aged 18; B.C.L. 1757, rector of Blisworth, Northants, and of Thurleston, co. Leicester, at his death 15 Feb., 1797.[5]

Trotter, Stephen, s. Thomas, of Dublin (city), arm. , matric. 18 April, 1787, aged 17.  Trotter, Thomas Henry Yorke, 3s. Thomas Lowis, of Great Stainton, co. Durham, cler. , matric. 16 Oct., 1874, aged 19; B.A. 1878, B.Mus. & M,A. 1887, a student of Inner Temple 1876, brother of John G.  Trotter, Thomas Lowis, 7s. John, of Houghton, co. Durham, arm. , matric. 5 May, 1828, aged 19; exhibitioner 1829-35, B.A. 1832, M.A. 1836, rector of Great Stainton, co. Durham, 1841, father of John George, and of the last named.

Troughear, Leonard, s. Thomas, of Northwood, Isle of Wight, doctor. , matric. 22 March, 1749-50, aged 17; demy 1750-3. See ''Coll. Reg.'', vi. 289.

Troughton, Arthur Perceval, 3s. George, of Seaforth, Lancashire, cler. , matric. 14 Oct., 1878, aged 20; B.A. 1882, domestic chaplain to Bishop of Maritzburg in South Africa.
 [10]
Troughton, Leslie Wycliffe, 5s. George, of Bebington, Cheshire, cler. , matric. 22 Oct., 1885, aged 19.

Troughton, James, s. James, of Coventry (city), arm. , matric. 27 Oct., 1814, aged 19; B.A. 1818, M.A. 1827, perp. curate of Binley 1821, and of Wyken, co. Warwick, 1823, rector of Ashley, co. Stafford, 1827, until his death 1 March, 1836.

Troughton, John Ellis, s. John, of St. Mary's, London, arm. , matric. 26 Nov., 1783, aged 27, B.A. 1787; M.A. from, Cambridge, 1791, vicar of Weobley 1790, and preb. of Hereford 1823, until his death in 1826.

Troughton, Nathaniel, s. Nath., of St. Michael's, Coventry (city), pleb. , matric. 23 June, 1720, aged 18; B.A. 1724, rector of Baxterley 1733, and vicar of Polesworth and Badgley Ensor, co. Warwick, at his death 20 Oct., 1788.

Troughton, Nathaniel, 1s. Nathaniel, of St. Michael's, Coventry (city), gent. , matric. 11 Feb., 1841, aged 18; B.A. 1846.
 [15]

Troup, Charles Edward, 1s. Robert, of Huntly, co. Aberdeen, cler. , matric. 21 Jan., 1880, aged 22; exhibitioner 1877-83, B.A. 1883, a student of the Middle Temple 1882.

Trousdale, Valentine Richard, 4s. Richard Sawdon, of Harmer House, near Gravesend, Kent, gent. , matric. 24 Jan., 1874, aged 17; exhibitioner 1873. See Robinson, 365.

Trousdale, Rev. William George, 2s. Richard Sawdon, of Gravesend, Kent, gent. , matric. 26 June, 1871, aged 18; B.A. 1875. See Robinson, 348.

Troutbeck, Edward, s. John, of Wellingborough, Northants, cler. , matric. 30 March, 1726, aged 16; B.A. from 6 March, 1730-1, M.A. 1732.

Troutbeck, George, s. William, of Dacre Blencow, Cumberland, gent. , matric. 18 March, 1812, aged 16.
 [20]
Troutbeck, John, s. George, of Blencow, Cumberland, pleb. , matric. 1 July, 1737, aged 18; B.A. 1741.

Troutbeck, John, 1s. George, of Dacre, Cumberland, arm. , matric. 26 May, 1852, aged 19; S.C.L. 1855, B.A. 1856, M.A. 1858, vicar of Dacre 1858-64, minor canon of Manchester 1864-9, precentor 1865-9, secretary to New Testament Revision Company 1870-81, priest in ordinary to the Queen, hon. chaplain in ordinary 1884, minor canon of Westminster Abbey 1869. See Rugby School Reg., 276.

Troutbeck, John, 1s. John, of Dacre, Cumberland, cler. , matric. 7 Dec., 1877 aged 18; B.A. 1880, B.C.L. & M.A. 1884.

Troutbeck, John Ewan, s. William, of Dacre, Cumberland, gent. , matric. 27 March, 1816, aged 19.

Trower, Arthur, 5s. George, of Bloomsbury, London, gent. , matric. 29 Nov., 1838, aged 19; B.A. 1842, M.A, 1849, perp. curate Codsall, co. Stafford, 1847-59, of Hook, Yorks, 1859-64, rector of St. Mary-at-Hill, London, 1874.
 [25]
Trower, Charles Francis, 4s. John, of St. George's, Hanover Square, arm. , matric. 18 Feb., 1835, aged 17; scholar 1835-40, B.A. 1839; fellow  1840-3, M.A. 1842, bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1842. See Foster's Men at the Bar & Boase, 132.

Trower, Cuthbert Fetherston, 6s. George Stonestreet, of London, arm. , matric. 27 April, 1881, aged 20; B.A. 1886, M.A. 1888.

Trower, Gerard, 5s. Arthur, of Hook, Yorks, cler. , matric. 18 Oct., 1881, aged 20; B.A. 1885, M.A. 1888.

Trower, Harold Edward, o.s. Charles Francis, of Southampton, arm. , matric. 1 Feb., 1873, aged 19; B.A. 1877, bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1879. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Trower, Henry Snaith, o.s. James, of Teddington, Middlesex, arm. , matric. 10 June, 1819, aged 17; a student of Lincoln's Inn 1819.

Trower, John, 1s. Edward Spencer, of Watton, Herts, gent. , matric. 26 May, 1863, aged 19; B.A. 1868, M.A. 1870, held various curacies 1868-80, vicar of Wortley, Yorks, 1880. See Eton School Lists.
 [31]
Trower, Walter John, 1s. John, of St. George's, Hanover Square, London, arm. , matric. 11 March, 1823, aged 18, B.A. 1828; fellow 1828-30, M.A. 1829, B. & D.D. 1849, a student of Lincoln's Inn 1825, rector of Wiston, Sussex, 1839-49, bishop of Glasgow and Galloway 1848-59, of Gibraltar 1863-8, sub-dean of Exeter 1860, rector of Ashington, Sussex, 1871, until his death 24 Oct., 1877. See Eton School Lists.

Trower, William Baker, 3s. John, of Berkeley Square, London, arm. , matric. 4 March, 1829, aged 17; B.A. 1832, M.A. 1835.

Troyte, Arthur Henry Dyke, 2s. Thomas Dyke-Acland, of Broad Clyst, Devon, baronet (see page 5). , matric. 10 Feb., 1829, aged 17; B.A. 1832, M.A. 1836, of Huntsham, Devon, assumed the name of in lieu of his patronymic by royal licence 13 Aug., 1852, a student of the Inner Temple 1833-48, died 19 June, 1857. See Foster's Baronetage,

Troyte, Edward (Berkeley), s. William, of Huntsham, Devon, arm. , matric. 15 Dec., 1781, aged 18; B.C.L. & D.C.L. 1796, rector of Huntsham and Packington, Somerset, 1787, until his death 9 May, 1852.
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 Thornhill, Bache, s. Bache, of Youlgreave, co. Derby, arm. , matric. 7 Nov., 1804, aged 18; B.A. 1808, M.A. 1812, perp. curate of Winster and Ashford, co. Derby, 1812, until his death 27 Dec., 1827.

Thornhill, Charles Edward, 1s. Thomas, of Steeple Aston, Oxon, arm. , matric. 23 Oct., 1834, aged 17; B.A. 1838, M.A. 1842, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1842, chairman Oxford Quarter Sessions 1878. See Foster's Men at the Bar & Rugby School Reg., 161.

Thornhill, Coell, s. Richard, of St. Ann's, London, arm. , matric. 19 April, 1721, aged 18.

Thornhill, Henry, s. Henry, of Isle of Barbados, arm. , matric. 14 Sep., 1762, aged 19; bar.-at-law, Middle Temple, 1766.[4]

Thornhill, Henry Bache, s. Bache, of Youlgreave, co. Derby, arm. , matric. 27 April, 1798, aged 18; died in 1822, brother of Bache 1804.

Thornhill, John, s. Hodgson, of Darlington, co. Durham, gent. , matric. 22 June, 1784, aged 17; B.A. 1788, M.A. 1792 (? rector of Cold Ashby and Weedon Beck, Northants, 1790).

Thornhill, Thomas Bryan Clarke-, 1s. William Capel, of London, arm. , matric. 20 Jan., 1877, aged I9; B.A. 1881, M.A. 1886, of the diplomatic service. See Eton School Lists.

Thornhill, William, o.s. Henry, of Langworth, Notts, arm. , matric. 15 Oct., 1825, aged 19.

Thornhill, William Robert, 2s. Cuthbert Bensley, of East Indies, arm. , matric. 13 Oct., 1866, aged 19.
[9]
Thornley, Alfred, 5s. John, of Preston, Lancashire, gent. , matric. 16 Oct., 1875, aged 19; B.A. 1879, M.A. 1882, vicar of South Leverton, Notts, 1885.

Thornley, John, s. Edmund, of Prestbury, Cheshire, pleb. , matric. 10 Dec., 1726, aged 29.

Thornton, Albert James, 2s. Richard, of Folkestone, Kent, arm. , matric, 16 Jan., 1875, aged 18.

Thornton, Arthur Stephen, 3s. Harry, of Turvey, Beds, arm. , matric. 16 Oct., 1868, aged 18; B.A. 1872, of Kempston Grange, Beds, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1877. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection & Eton School Lists.

Thornton, Bonnell, s. John, of Chandos Street, Westminster, gent. , matric. 1 June, 1743, aged 17; B.A. 1747, M.A. 1750, B.Med. 1754, humourist and poet, died 9 May, 1768. See Alumni West., 327.

Thornton, Butler Edmond, s. Edmond, of Whittington, Lancashire, arm. , matric. 19 Jan., 1816, aged 18; of Skerton and Whittington, died in 1848.
[15]

Thornton, Rev. Charles, y.s. Henry, of Battersea, Surrey, arm. , matric. 1 July, 1828, aged 17; B.A. 1833, M.A. 1835, died 24 June, 1839. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection.

Thornton, Charles Stuart, 1s. Harry, of Mayfair, London, arm. , matric. 27 May, 1863, aged 19; S.C.L. & B.A. 1870. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection.

Thornton, Edward, 4s. Thomas Reeve, of Brockhall, Northants, arm. , matric. 7 July, 1830, aged 17; student 1832-47, B.A. 1834, M.A. 1837, of Brockhall Hall, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1840. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Thornton, Sir Edward,, created D.C.L. 13 June, (s. Right Hon. Sir Edward Thornton, G.C.B., envoy to Sweden), and Count de Cassilhas in Portugal, senior optime & B.A. from , Cambridge, 1840, M.A. 1877, hon. fellow 1887; hon. LL.D. Harvard University, U.S., 1879, minister Argentine Republic 1859-65, to Brazil 1865-7, and to Portugal 1867, envoy and minister plenipotentiary to United States 1867-81, ambassador to Russia 1881-4, and to Turkey 1884-6, C.B. 1863, K.C.B. 9 Aug., 1870, P.C. 1871, G.C.B. 21 Aug., 1883. See Foster's Baronetage.

Thornton, Francis Vansittart, scholar, Cambridge, 1837 (21 class in classics 1838, B.A. 1838, M.A. 1841); adm. 'ad eundem' 3 Feb., 1842, vicar of Bisham, Berks, 1840-8, rector of Brown Candover, Hants, 1848-64, and of South-Hill with Callington, Cornwall, 1864
[20]

Thornton, George Marmaduke, 1s. John Lean Thomson, of London, arm. , matric. 16 Oct., 1868, aged 19; B.A, 1874, M.A. 1876.

Thornton, John, s. James, of Horsham, Sussex, gent. , matric. 6 Dec., 1804, aged 16; B.A. 1808, scholar 1812-3, M.A. 1813, fellow 1813-20, B. & D.D. 1824.

Thornton, John Gidley, 1s. Robinson, of Epsom, Surrey, D.D., matric. 26 Jan., 1886, aged 19.

Thornton, Leslie Melville, 2s. Reginald, of Clapham, Middlesex, arm. , matric. 13 Oct., 1876, aged 18; scholar 1876-81, B.A. 1880, M.A. 1883, of the Indian Civil Service 1878. See Foster's Yorkshire Collection.

Thornton, Louis Edmund, 1s. William Wheeler, of Benenden, Kent, cler. , matric. 29 Oct., 1874, aged 19; B.A. 1879.
[25]

Thornton, Rev. Philip, senior optime from, Cambridge, and B.A. from , 1804 (M.A. 1807); adm, 'ad eundem' 17 May, 1826.

Thornton, Richard Napoleon, 1s, Richard Lee, of Brixton, Surrey, arm. , matric. 19 March, 1851, aged 18; bar,-at-law, Middle Temple, 1860, assumed the surname of in lieu of, father of Walter Alfred and of the next named. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Thornton, Rev. Richard Thornton, 1s. Richard Napoleon (formerly Lee), of Folkestone, Kent, arm. , matric. 25 Jan., 1873, aged 19; B.A. 1876, M.A. 1880.

Thornton, Robert, s. Robert, of Stanton, co. Worcester, cler. , matric. 13 March, 1721-2, aged 18; B.A. 1725, M.A. 1728.

Thornton, Robinson, 1s. Thomas, of Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, gent. , matric. 26 June, 1843, aged 18; scholar and fellow 1843-55, B.A. 1847, M.A. 1851, B.D. 1856, D.D. 1860, dean of arts 1851, lecturer 1850-5, assistant tutor 1854-5, Boyle lecturer 1881-3, head-master and chaplain Royal Medical College, Epsom, 1855-70, warden Trinity College, Glenalmond and Pantonian professor of theology 1870-3, vicar of St. John's, Notting Hill, 1878, father of John G., and brother of Thomas Henry and the next named. See Robinson, 253; and for list of his works see Crockford.
[30]

Thornton, Samuel, 3s. Thomas, of Christ Church, Southwark, Surrey, gent. , matric. 18 March, 1852, aged 16; Michel exhibitioner 1852-5, B.A. 1855, scholar 1855-8, M.A. 1858, fellow 1858-61, created D.D. 22 Dec, 1874, bishop of Ballarat 1875, perp. curate St. Jude's, Whitechapel, 1860-4, rector of St. George's, Birmingham, 1864-74, brother of Thomas Henry and of the last named. See Robinson, 289.

Thornton, Swinford Leslie, s. William Henry, of Margate, Kent, gent. , matric. 18 Oct., 1871, aged 18; B.A. 1876, bar.-at-law, Lincoln's Inn, 1877. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Thornton, Thomas, s. Thomas, of Brockhall, Northants, arm. , matric. 20 May 1715, aged 17; of Brockhall, died 15 March, 1783, father of Thomas Lee and of William 1746.

Thornton, Thomas Henry, 2s. Thomas, of Christ Church, Southwark, Surrey, gent. ,, matric. 30 June, 1851, aged 18; scholar and fellow 1851-62, S.C.L. 1855, B.C.L. 1856, D.C.L. 1862, entered Indian Civil Service 1855, a student of Gray's Inn 1862, secretary to Punjaub Government 1864-76, judge Small Cause Court, Lahore, 1878-81, and a member of Legislative Council, India, 1877-9, C.S.I. 1 Jan., 1877, fellow Calcutta University 1875, vice-president Lahore University 1879, brother of Robinson and of Samuel. See Robinson, 282.
 [ 1414 ]


text:
Page:Bobbsey Twins at School.djvu/56

" have to carry them in," said Mr. Bobbsey, as he looked in the rear of the auto, and saw his two little twins fast asleep on the dog's back.

"I'll take 'em," said Sam kindly. "Many a time I'se carried 'em in offen de porch when dey failed asleep. I'll carry 'em in."

And he did, first taking Flossie, and then Freddie. Then he and Dinah brought in the bundles and valises, while Nan and Bert and Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey followed, having bidden good-night to Mr. Blake, and thanking him for the ride.

"Where—where are we?" asked Flossie, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room which she had not seen in some months.

"An'—an' where's our dog?" demanded Freddie.

title: Page:Bobbsey Twins at School.djvu/56


text:
Page:Alumni Oxoniensis (1715-1886) volume 4.djvu/179

 Taylor, Edward, s. Edward, of Kidderminster, co. Worcester, pleb. , matric. 21 March, 1742-3, aged 16.  Taylor, Edward, s. Edward, of Ballynort, in par. Askeaton, co. Limerick, arm. , matric. 15 Oct., 1768, aged 17.  Taylor, Edward, s. Edward, of Patrixbourn, Kent, cler. , matric. 15 May, 1793, aged 18; of Bifrons, Kent, M.P. Canterbury 1807-12, died 21 June, 1843.  Taylor, Edward, s. Christopher, of Moyles Court, Hants, doctor. , matric. 10 Dec., 1806, aged 18; B.A. 1810.  Taylor, Edward Robert, s. George, of Madras, East Indies, arm. , matric. 20 June, 1816, aged 18; B.A. 1820, M.A. 1823.  [5]

Taylor, Elias, s. Elias, of Odcombe, Somerset, gent. , matric. 1 Dec., 1779, aged 18; scholar 1780, B.A. 1783, M.A. 1786, fellow 1786-1805, B.D. 1796, of Shapwick House, Somerset, J.P., rector of Lufton, Somerset, and of Hayes, Middlesex, died 5 Feb., 1827.  Taylor, Elliot, s. Elliot, of St. Andrew's, Holborn, London, arm. , matric. 9 April, 1767, aged 18.  Taylor, Ernest George, 1s. George, of Wolverhampton, co. Stafford, arm. , matric. 5 Dec., 1866, aged 18; B.A. 1870, a student of the Inner Temple 1870.

Taylor, Farmer, s. Farmer, of Cloverley, Salop, arm. , matric. 27 April, 1798, aged 17; B.A. 1802, of Chyknell, Salop, high sheriff 1815, died 24 June, 1852. See Eton School Lists.

Taylor, Fitzwilliam John, 3s. Thomas William, of Moulsey, Surrey, arm. , matric. 10 Dec., 1835, aged 17; B.A. 1839, vicar of Rattery, Devon, 1844-5, rector of West Ogwell, Devon, 1844, and of East Ogwell 1845.
 [10]

Taylor, Francis, s. Fran., of Winscombe, Somerset, cler. , matric. 19 March, 1723-4, aged 16; B.A. 1727, vicar of Wedmore, Somerset, 1742, until his death 1 April, 1779.

Taylor, Francis Barnard, 1s. Samuel Barnard, of Kingswood, Surrey, cler. , matric. 15 Oct., 1879, aged 19; scholar 1878-83.

Taylor, Francis Willis, 1s. Francis, of Cheetham Hill, near Manchester, arm. , matric. 13 Oct., 1866, aged 19; S.C.L. & B.A. 1870, M.A. 1873, bar.-at-law, Inner Temple, 1872, registrar Liverpool district, of Lancaster Chancery Court. See Foster's Men at the Bar.

Taylor, Frank Stanley, 4s. Henry, of Nottingham (town), arm. , matric. 13 April, 1864, aged 17; chorister 1856-60, servitor 1864-7, B.A. 1867, M.A. 1870, head-master Magdalen College School, Brackley, 1870-9, vicar of Littleton, co. Worcester, 1879.

Taylor, Frederick Henry, 1s. Henry, of London, gent. , matric. 18 Oct., 1883, aged 20.
 [15]
Taylor, Garnett Thomas, 4s. Samuel, of Isle of Barbados, gent. , matric. 6 Feb., 1872, aged 19.

Taylor, George, s. John, of London, gent. , matric. 13 March, 1730-1, aged 20; B.A. 1734.

Taylor, George, s. Charles, of St. George's, London, arm. , matric. 2 June, 1747, aged 17; B.A. 4 Feb., 1750-1, M.A. 1753.

Taylor, George, s. Nicholas, of Isle of St. Christopher, arm. , matric. 27 March, 1754, aged 17; created M.A. 6 July, 1757, and also D.C.L. July, 1773.

Taylor, George, s. Clement, of Maidstone, Kent, arm. , matric. 8 Feb., 1779, aged 16.
 [20]
Taylor, George, s. George, of Stanbury, Yorks, pleb. , matric. 4 Nov., 1779, aged 18; B.A. 1783.

Taylor, George, s. John, of Isle of St. Christopher, gent. , matric. 12 June, 1789, aged 17; B.A. 1793, M.A. 1796. See Alumni West., 428.

Taylor, George, s. George, of London, arm. , matric. 19 March, 1796, aged 18; drowned at Oxford 24 May, 1796.

Taylor, George, 2s. William, of Swanage, Dorset, cler. , matric. 30 Nov., 1825, aged 17; B.A. 1829, M.A. 1832, died curate of Langton Matravers, Dorset, 7 July, 1834.

Taylor, George, M.A. from, Cambridge, 1821 (senior optime & B.A. 1815), 3s. John, of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, London, gent. , incorp. 16 Dec., 1826, aged 33; D.C.L. 22 Feb., 1827, rector of Dedham, Essex, died 5 Dec., 1871.
 [25]

Taylor, George, 4s. John, of Crediton, Devon, gent. , matric. 22 March, 1849, aged 22; B.A. 1852, M.A. 1857, held various curacies 1852-81, vicar of Kirdford, Sussex, 1881, until his death 22 June, 1887.

Taylor, George, of, Cambridge (B.A. 1848, M.A. 1851); adm. 'ad eundem' 8 May, 1856.

Taylor, George Watson, created D.C.L. 14 June, 1820 (s. George Watson, arm.), of Erlestoke Park, Wilts, assumed the additional surname of by royal licence 19 June, 1815, M.P. Newport, Isle of Wight, 1816-8, Seaford 1818-20, East Looe 1820-6, Devizes 1826-32, died 6 May, 1841, father of John 1830.

Taylor, Harrison, s. James, of Treton, Yorks, arm. , matric. 5 July, 1808, aged 19; B.A. 1812, scholar 1812-7, M.A. 1815, vicar of Marton-in-Cleveland, Yorks, 1847, until his death 4 Jan., 1855.

Taylor, Harry Ashworth, 1s. Henry, of Sheen, Surrey, knight. , matric. 16 Oct., 1873, aged 19; a Queen's messenger 1883, brother of Aubrey C. A. See Rugby School Reg.
 [30]

Taylor, Haydon Aldersey, 3s. Daniel, of St. George's, Southwark, London, arm. , matric. 5 March, 1845, aged 18; B.A. 1848, M.A. 1852, chaplain to the forces in Crimea, etc., chaplain Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight, 1873. See Robinson, 267.

Taylor, Henry, s. Richard, of Kensington, Middlesex, cler. , matric. 10 March, 1796, aged 18; B.A. 1799, M.A. 1802, rector of Liddington, Wilts, 1801.

Taylor, Henry, s. Thomas, of St. Bride's, London, gent. , matric. 15 Dec., 1806, aged 20; B.A. 1810, M.A. 1823. See Gent.'s Mag., 1860, i. 189; & St. Paul's School Reg., 216.

Taylor, Henry, 2s. William, of Purbrook, Hants, arm. , matric. 7 March, 1822, aged 19; B.A. 1826.

Taylor, Henry, 2s. Thomas, of Greenwich, Kent, gent. , matric. 21 April, 1828, aged 17; bible clerk 1828-30.
 [35]

Taylor, Henry, o.s. Henry, of Newport, Rhode Island, America, arm. , matric. 12 Feb., 1859, aged 18.

Taylor, Sir Henry, K.C.M.G., created D.C.L. 2 July, 1862 (s. George, of Witton Hall, co. Durham), served in Colonial Office 1824-72, K.C.M.G. 30 June, 1869, author of 'Philip Van Artevelde,' etc., died 27 March, 1886, father of Aubrey C. A. and of Harry A. See Foster's Baronetage.

Taylor, Henry John, o.s. James, of Minehead, Somerset, gent. , matric. 29 Jan., 1828, aged 18.
 [ 1393 ]


text:
Page:Cadet Handbook and Section Roll.pdf/21

 {|
 * + For Rank of Sergeant. As for Corporal, and―
 * | Subject.
 * | Text Books.
 * | Rifle Exercises and Musketry Instructions for Cadets, Chap. III.
 * | Rifle Exercises and Musketry Instructions for Cadets, Chap. III.
 * | Infantry Training, 1911, Secs. 93-29.
 * }
 * | Rifle Exercises and Musketry Instructions for Cadets, Chap. III.
 * | Infantry Training, 1911, Secs. 93-29.
 * }
 * | Infantry Training, 1911, Secs. 93-29.
 * }
 * | Infantry Training, 1911, Secs. 93-29.
 * }

1. The examination will be practical and oral.

2. The Boards appointed by the District Commandant will be composed of one or more officers of the Permanent Forces and an Area Officer.

3. Examinations will usually be held twice in each year in the various localities.

4. When there is more than one candidate at any locality, arrangements will be made so that, while the examination in the oral test is being conducted,


text:
Page:Pentagon-Papers-Part IV. A. 4.djvu/31

Declassified per Executive Order 13526, Section 3.3 NND Project Number: NND 63316. By: NWD Date: 2011 29 091054 A DIEM AGENT INFILTRATED THE ARMY GENERAL STAFF MEETING AND DISCOVERED COUP WAS BEING PLANNED BY GENERAL HINH TO DEPOSE DIEM. DIEM REMOVED HINH AS ARMY CHIEF AND ORDERED HIM OUT OF THE COUNTRY. HINH'S ACTIVITIES DISRUPTED PLANNING ACTIVITIES AT THE VIETNAMESE ARMY GENERAL STAFF, AND CREATED AN IRRESPONSIBLE INSUBORDINATE ATTITUDE WITHIN VNA RANKS. /JCS HIST.

090854 EIGHT POWERS SIGNED THE S.E.ASIA COLLECTIVE DEFENSE TREATY, INCLUDING A PROTOCOL WHICH EXTENDED TO SOUTHERN VIETNAM, CAMBODIA, AND LAOS PROTECTION AGAINST AGGRESSION AND ELIGIBILITY FOR ECONOMIC AID.

091754 OFFICE FOR REFUGEES WAS SET UP UNDER A COMMISSIONER GENERAL WHO WAS GIVEN THE RANK OF SEC. OF STATE. /LANCASTER.

092254 IN A MEMO TO SECRETARY OF DEFENSE, JCS STATED THAT THE GENEVA AGREEMENT WOULD HINDER THE U.S. IN TRAINING AND EQUIPPING THE VIETNAMESE. THEY ESTIMATED THAT EQUIPMENT IN VIETNAM WAS SUFFICIENT TO SUPPLY VIETNAM. TRAINING OF THE VIETNAMESE ARMY WOULD TAKE 3–5 YEARS AND SHOULD HAVE LOW PRIORITY TO OTHER U.S. MILITARY PROGRAMS. NOT A GOOD TIME TO FURTHER INDICATE U.S. TRAINING INTENTIONS RE VIETNAMESE FORCES. THEY WANTED TO RETAIN THE FEC. /JCS HIST.

092454 WASHINGTON CONFERENCE BROUGHT TO LIGHT DIFFICULTIES IN TRAINING THE VNA. DULLES VIEWED THE VNA AS A SMALL FORCE DEVELOPED TO INSURE INTERNAL SECURITY. THE JCS VIEW WAS THAT A FORCE TWICE AS LARGE WAS NEEDED TO PROVIDE TROOPS TO DETER OVERT AGGRESSION ACROSS THE DMZ. /JCS HIST.

THE FRENCH DELEGATES (GUY LACHAMBRE, EDGAR FAURE, GENERAL ELY, AND AMBASSADOR HENRI BONNET) AGREED IN PRINCIPLE THAT THE STEPS TO ACHIEVE TOTAL INDEPENDENCE WOULD BE 1) THE CANCELLATION OF THE PAU AGREEMENTS WHICH GAVE FRANCE EFFECTIVE CONTROL OVER THE ECONOMY, COMMERCE AND FINANCES OF VIETNAM, 2) THE TRANSFER OF THE OVERALL COMMAND OF THE NATIONAL ARMY TO THE VIETNAMESE GOVERNMENT, 3) TO PUT THE U.S. MILITARY MISSION IN CHARGE OF TRAINING THE VIETNAMESE ARMY, 4) TO GIVE THE GOVERNMENT OF VIETNAM FULL CONTROL OVER ALL AID FUNDS FROM THE U.S., FINALLY 5) TO WITHDRAW THE EXPEDITIONARY CORPS UPON REQUEST OF THE VIETNAMESE GOVERNMENT. /J.B. DRAGON.

092554 NGO DINH DIEM REORGANIZED HIS CABINET WITH THE AIM OF WINNING THE COOPERATION OF SOME LEADERS OF THE SECTS.

092754 FRENCH EXPEDITIONARY CORPS OF 176,000 WAS SCHEDULED FOR PROGRESSIVE REDUCTION TO 100,000 BY THE END OF 1955. /JCS HIST.

092854 AT A CONFERENCE IN WASHINGTON BETWEEN THE FRENCH AND U.S. THE DISPOSITION OF EQUIPMENT WAS DISCUSSED AND THE BUILD-UP OF THE VIETNAMESE ARMY WITH THE WITHDRAWAL OF FRENCH FORCES.

092954 FRANCO-AMERICAN MINUTE OF UNDERSTANDING ON ASSISTING, DEVELOPING AND STRENGTHENING FREE VIETNAM SIGNED. /STATE MESSAGE 12292.

093054 U.S. WAS CAUTIOUS IN ITS ESTABLISHMENT OF VNA UNTIL DIEM'S POSITION WAS SECURE. /TELG. /JCS HIST. S


text:
User:Econterms

me

 * See my main identity at my English Wikipedia user page.

Underway

 * Roster of Registered U.S. Patent Attorneys 1903 - my first entry into main space
 * The Mueller Report
 * Samuel Hopkins's U.S. license (?) #366 from 1791
 * Popular Science Monthly of 1916
 * to do: Francis Galton's work, cited in Benoit Godin's paper on early statistics of science

Wikisource community links

 * Wiki source user group List: https://lists.wikimedia.org/mailman/listinfo/wikisource-l
 * Tool for uploading things from Internet Archive to Commons  https://toolserver.org/~tpt/iaUploadBot/step1.php
 * Wikisource statistics; http://toolserver.org/~phe/statistics.php?diff=1
 * Draft q for scriptorium: Hands-on training on wikisource would be useful for many of us. I have proposed that there be a meeting in North America for training. I put the idea at the new "IdeaLab" space for discussion.  If there is some community support it will be easier to get a grant to make it happen.  https://meta.wikimedia.org/wiki/Grants:IdeaLab/Wikisource_training_conference_or_videos

Early aeronautics and aviation
I have a professional interest in aeronautics and aviation before 1916 and there's a lot here on Wikisource to use and to work on. Need to apply these wonderful categories: Category:Aviation, Category:Aeronautics, and add to Author:Octave Chanute and Author:Cleveland Abbe

 * Octave Chanute. 1904. Aerial Navigation.  Popular Science Monthly, vol. 64, 385-393.  (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Mayer, Alfred M. 1876. Flying-Machines and Penaud's Artificial Bird. Popular Science Monthly Popular Science Monthly/Volume 8/February 1876/Flying-Machines and Penaud's Artificial Bird  (not cited by Brockett, 1910, but should have been -- add it to database --- work on this text!!!
 * Flower, W.H. 1886. The wings of birds. Popular Science Monthly 30:16, 240-242. (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Samuel Pierpont Langley. Experiments with the Langley aerodrome. Popular Science Monthly 73:5 (Nov. 1908), 462-474, ill. 1. (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Joseph Le Conte. 1888. The Problem of a Flying-Machine. Popular Science Monthly 34 (Nov.), 69-76.  (cited by Le Conte, 1894.)  (not cited by Brockett, 1910, but should have been' -- add it to database)
 * Joseph Le Conte. 1894. New lights on the problem of flying. Popular Science Monthly 44 (April), 744-757. (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Lucas, Frederick A. 1900. Birds as flying machines. Popular Science Monthly 57:5, 473-478. (Popular_Science_Monthly/Volume_57/September_1900/Birds_as_Flying_Machines) (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Cochrane, Charles H. Recent progress in aerial navigation. Popular Science Monthly 58:6, 1901, 616-624, figs 1-15 (Popular_Science_Monthly/Volume_58/April_1901/Recent_Progress_in_Aerial_Navigation]) (cited by Brockett, 1910) -- get back to work:  Page:Popular_Science_Monthly_Volume_58.djvu/627)
 * Gilbert Grosvenor. The tetrahedral kites of Dr. Alexander Graham Bell. Popular Science Monthly 64:2 (Dec., 1903), 131-151, figs 1-22. (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Aerial navigation. Popular Science Monthly 73:4, 1908, 381-382. (Brockett # 83)  (cited by Brockett, 1910)
 * Author:Gaston Tissandier!  See list:
 * |Travels in the Air
 * Author:Wilfrid de Fonvielle
 * 1911 Britannica articles on aeronautics and aerostation
 * search 1911 Britannica
 * Helene Bonfort. 1895. Wellner's Sail-Wheel Flying Machine. Popular Science Monthly, March 1895. (thanks, Ineuw!)  Note this statement:  ". . . the aëronautic problem will most probably admit of a satisfactory solution only by means of dynamic flying machines. Prof. Wellner is of the opinion that . . . this end . . . is likely to be attained before the close of our century."  (by 1900)  And at the end of the article:  "The prominent English physicists. Lord Kelvin, Lord Rayleigh, etc., speak of Maxim's air-ship with the greatest enthusiasm; they expect him actually to solve the problem in a near future."
 * to do: add Index:United States patent 821393 and connect it to the main page page header and the pdf and put it in the works of orville and wilbur
 * started on work of Besio Moreno: https://es.wikisource.org/wiki/P%C3%A1gina:Anales_de_la_Sociedad_Cient%C3%ADfica_Argentina_-_Tomo_77.djvu/261

Notes on The Education of Henry Adams
This book difficult to follow, partly because it makes so many oblique references to specifics of the author's time and place. I am reading and taking notes on basic underlying facts of it. The notes are on various discussion pages and clarify the text. Here are key bits:
 * page 21 -- relevant locations in Massachusetts: Boston, Quincy, and Medford
 * page 22 -- the styles of the many historic houses of his family's, and what the author preferred
 * page 32 -- lays out his mother's proximate family tree of notables named Brooks and Adams
 * page 37 -- views on American division about slavery circa 1850, in which the author's father Charles Francis Adams Sr was an important figure

BLS portal category
I work at BLS and transcribe some of its historic work now and then:
 * Use this: Portal:United_States_Department_of_Labor
 * and this: Category:PD-USGov

Wikisource techniques
To show a hyphenated word at the end of a page: and at the beginning of the next page:

Making an index

 * create index with exactly the name of the commons file, prefixed simply by Index:
 * save with minimal info filled in
 * Then, at least for simple modern docs, add 1=1 and save again
 * Then add "Ready to Match"; documents with pagination changes are harder but I don't need to address those cases now

title: User:Econterms


text:
Author:Little Crow

Works

 * Little Crow is Not a Coward, August 1862

title: Author:Little Crow


text: The Cadet Hand Book and Section Roll/Syllabus of Examination


text: Index:Land Mollusca of North America (north of Mexico) Vol. I Part 2 (1st half).pdf


text: Index:Land Mollusca of North America (north of Mexico) Vol. I Part 2 (2nd half).pdf


text:
Page:Land Mollusca of North America (north of Mexico) Vol. I Part 2 (1st half).pdf/3

 PREFACE

The present Part contains the remaining families of Helicacea, being mainly occupied with the Polygyridae.

This is the most ubiquitous and widely-spread North American family of helices, being found in all states of the Union but four (Wyoming, Colorado, Utah and Nevada), in Canada, Alaska and in Mexico. It is also more numerous in species than any other land snail family of our area, and it comprises many shells of large size.

The other family included here, Sagdidae, is a tropical group, represented in the United States mainly by stragglers from the West Indies and Mexico.

The name of my late assistant, Edward G. Vanatta, was inadvertently omitted from those to whom acknowledgments for assistance were made in Part I. Through many years he was my right hand in the long task of assorting, determining and labelling material on which this work is based.

I am indebted also to Dr. Harald A. Rehder for the generous gift of a synopsis of his notes on the apical sculpture of Polygyridae in relation to taxonomy.

As in Part I, the photographic figures for this Part are by Miss Helen Winchester, the line drawings of anatomy and shells by the author.

July, 1940.


text:
Lawgivers

THE bronze clangor of the cathedral bells marks the hours. Out of the night day bursts with an abruptness of light and of birdcalls. Newsboys' voices announce the first editions of Mexican morning papers and the fall of Tampico. There are dog yelps, the rattle and grind of big-wheeled mule carts, a clatter of cavalry hoofs on the asphalt, bugle calls, and Vera Cruz has begun another day.

Bareheaded women, betraying little of Spanish and much of Indian in their faces, pass on their way to market. Cargadores slither by on leather sandals, and peddlers carrying their stocks in trade on their heads. Spigotty police, in wrinkled linen uniforms, swing their clubs valiantly, and, in contrast with our husky sentries of the regular army, appear pathetically small of stature, pinched of chest, and narrow of shoulder. And in the cathedral Indians and mixed breeds pray to the gods and saints of their believing, perplexed by the incomprehensible situation of their beloved city in the possession of armed white-skinned men from over the sea.

These natives of Mexico have never possessed more than a skeleton of law. They were two entire ethnic periods behind the Spanish when Cortes landed his mail-clad adventurers on their shore. And Cortes and the generations of acquisitive adventurers that followed him, themselves no genius for government, intermarried with the Indian population and made no improvements in government.

Improvised Proconsuls

PRIMITIVE government is simple, religious, and rigid. When the Indian governmental machinery was thrown out of gear, with here and there a smashed cog, lacking in plasticity, the millions of Indians fell an easy prey to the Spanish conquistadores. The compromise, resulting from the blending of a people backward in governmental development with a people unpossessed of the genius for government, brought about the weak and inefficient government that has been Mexico's for the last four centuries.

Come now, in the year 1914, from the United States, the white-skinned armed men with an inherited genius for government. Here is Vera Cruz with a population of 30,000; here, in addition, there are thousands of American soldiers and thousands of American and Mexican refugees from the interior. Problem: how to get these many thousands up out of bed in the morning and to work or play; how to get them home and to bed at night, all in decent and orderly fashion.

There must be safety for all. They must not quarrel with one another. They must keep themselves clean and the city clean. They must pursue the multifarious activities by which only can a city exist. They must not hurt one another, either by theft or violence, or by squalidly cultivating infection. And they must not even hurt, by excess of cruelty, the scrubby four-legged creatures that are their draft animals.

And the thing is done, decency and order made to reign, and all by the white-skinned fighting men who know how to rule as well as fight. Never, in the long history of Vera Cruz, has the city been so decent, so orderly, so safe, so clean. And it is accomplished, not by civilians from the United States, but by soldiers from the United States, and it is done without graft.

Captain Turner of the Seventh Infantry makes the following interesting announcement in the Mexican newspapers:

"As I have taken charge of the administration of the State taxes for this canton, by order of the Provost Marshal General, I beg to advise the public that from the seventh day of this month this office will proceed with its usual business under my orders.

"The public is hereby advised that persons who have not paid up taxes on city property which were due on the thirtieth day of April, 1914, will be allowed until the twenty-fifth day of the present month in which to pay them; but if any or all of them are not paid by the date mentioned above the property will be subject to the usual legal processes."

Comes Major Miller, his sword for the time being laid aside while he serves as chief of the Department of Education, with this advertisement:

"Professors and teachers formerly employed in the public schools of Vera Cruz, and who have not already signified their intention to resume work, but who desire to do so, and others who are qualified to teach and desire such employment, are requested to make application to this department. The latter class of applicants should present proper credentials and proof of qualification."

Also, Major Miller announces that the Biblioteca del Publico will reopen on May 20.

Colonel Plummer of the Twenty-eighth Infantry advertises that the sale of cocaine and marihuana is prohibited except on a doctor's prescription, and that violation of this order will be severely punished. Since Colonel Plummer is Provost Marshal General, his advertisements include all sorts of prohibitions, from spitting on sidewalks and in public places to warning shopkeepers not to extend credit to soldiers, and pawnbrokers not to receive pledges of Government property.

General Funston serves notice that every inhabitant of Vera Cruz must forthwith be vaccinated.

The Business of Justice

THE work of war is not forgotten. The lines of outposts and trenches circle the city; the waterworks are protected; the hydroplanes scout overhead; and night and day, on lookout and in the trenches, men and officers stand their regular shifts. But, inside the lines, colonels and majors, captains and first lieutenants turn their hands to governing and operating the Departments of Law, Public Work, Public Safety, Finance, and Education. Then there is the Military Commission, with powers of life and death, grimly sitting on the cases of persons charged with infractions of the Laws of Hostile Occupation and the Laws of War. Further, there are four Inferior Provost Courts and one Superior Provost Court sitting regularly every day. The jurisdiction of the Provost Court is limited to criminal cases, and these courts are far from idle.

The Captain-Judge in Action

THE ordinary citizen in any city at home may pursue his routine of life for days, weeks, and months, and see nothing out of the way or disorderly. And yet, day and night, and all days and nights, disorderly acts will have taken place and the many offenders will have been combed by the police from the riffraff of the city and brought before the courts.

Vera Cruz, at the present time, despite its military occupation, has all the seeming of such a city. All is quiet and seemly on the streets, where just the other day men were killing one another on the sidewalks and housetops. The very spigotty police, known, some of them, to have engaged in sniping our men, have been put back to work under our army administration. And yet, for a city of this size, more than the usual combing of the riffraff is necessary. It is the desire of the military government, among other things, to rid the city of all able-bodied loafers, whether Mexican or foreign. If Mexican, they are sent out through the lines; if foreign, they are deported to their respective countries. On the other hand, there is nothing hasty in this cavalier treatment. Petty offenders continually receive dismissals or suspended sentences for first offences. Nor is the right to be represented by counsel denied anyone.

A visit to the Inferior Provost Court in the Municipal Palace proved most illuminating. Here, at a desk across which flowed a steady stream of documents, in olive-drab shirt and riding trousers, with a .45 automatic at his hip, sat a blond lawgiver, taken from the command of his company in the Nineteenth Infantry to administer the law of Mexico and the orders, above Mexican law, which have been issued by the Provost Marshal General.

At the desk beside the Captain-Judge, an enlisted man, in uniform, pounded a typewriter, kept a record of decisions, fines, imprisonments, and probations, and performed the rest of the tasks of a police-court clerk. Soldiers clacked across the square marble flags of the court-room floor, and came and went, carrying messages, appearing and disappearing through high doorways and under broad arches. In one corner a soldier telegrapher operated an army telegraph.

Strapping soldiers, with bayonets fixed, guarded the doorway that led both to freedom and to the cells. Between these guards, small people, furtive or sullen, came and went—if witnesses, summoned from without by an alert little spigotty bailiff; if prisoners, escorted by armed soldiers.

"Tell the Lady She Was Drunk," Says the Court

AS IS usual with our police courts at home, not one but many cases are going on simultaneously. A fresh witness in a case of theft, sent for half an hour before, arrives and gives evidence between the payment of a fine and the fuddled protestations of an Indian woman that she was not drunk the preceding evening. While the court interpreter has halted the testimony of a suspected fence in order to look up in the dictionary the English equivalent for a Spanish phrase the Captain-Judge admonishes a hotel keeper on the conduct of his house, dispatches a policeman to bring into court two pairs of stolen trousers evidently germane to some other case that is somehow in process of being tried, and listens to the remarks of a Spanish lawyer appearing for some man not yet brought from the cells.

The stream of many cases thins for a moment, and the Captain-Judge, who has the bluest of blue eyes and the fairest of fair hair, calls the name, "Francisco Ibanez de Paralta."

A peon, covered with rags for the price of which six cents would be an extortion, shambles up and bows humbly.

"Tell him that he was drunk and disorderly on the street last night," the Captain-Judge says to the interpreter.

This being duly communicated, the culprit makes brief reply, which is translated by the interpreter as: "That's right. He says he was drunk all right and is sorry."

"Has he steady work?" asked the Captain-Judge.

"No. He says he is a cargador and works when he can."

"Tell him if he is brought here again he will be given sixteen days—turn him loose," is the verdict.

Next appears Serafina Cruz. She is blear-eyed and semicomatose.

"Tell the lady she was drunk again yesterday," says the Court to the interpreter.

Serafina acknowledges the soft impeachment with a "Si," a nod, and a yawn.

"Second offense, sixteen days in which to sober up—she needs it," is the Court's judgment, and Sefafina is trailed away to the cells by a big American soldier.

Maria and the Handcart

MARIA DE LA CONCEPCION DE HENRIQUEZ, a gentle-faced, soft-voiced woman whose ancestors, by the tokens of race in her face, pronounced their names by means of many Aztec "z's" and "x's," denies flatly that she was drunk the preceding morning. The arresting spigotty officer, being duly sworn, deposes that she was so drunk that he was compelled to transport her to the lockup in a handcart. Maria de la Concepcion assures the Court that the arresting officer is a dog and worse than a dog; he is the broken mustaches of a gutter cat, a grubless buzzard, a wingless pelican; that the truth is not in him; and, furthermore, that she was not drunk.

Captain Callahan, a blond Celt in American uniform, taking oath, affirms that he did see the lady arrive, dead drunk, in a handcart propelled by the aforesaid spigotty policeman.

Maria de la Concepcion rolls her eyes in an expression of grieved shock at such unveracity on the part of such a gentlemanly appearing American gentleman, and assures the Court that she was far from drunk—so far from drunk, in fact, that she had not taken even a drop.

The patient Captain-Judge settles the matter out of hand.

"Tell her," he commands the interpreter, "that it happens I saw her myself when she was brought in on the handcart. Ask her where is her home."

Back, via the interpreter, comes the information that she has no home.

"First offense—five days—what is the matter with that man?" says the Captain-Judge all in one breath.

"That man," from his bright, keen, elderly face, evidently is not a drunk. Also, in his face there are no signs of evil, so one wonders what he has done.

His name is José de Garro, the interpreter says for him. During the days of street fighting, while he lay hid, the United States sailors made use of his handcart, which happens to be his sole means of livelihood. He has now discovered his handcart. It is being used by the servants of the proprietor of the Hotel Diligencia, and said proprietor has declined to return it to him.

The Court does not ponder the matter. Like the crack of a whiplash, his orders are issued:

"Send a policeman to the Hotel Diligencia and bring the handcart and the proprietor here. Find from the complainant two men who will swear to his identity and to his ownership of the handcart, and send a policemen to bring the two men he names. Mercedes de Villagran!"

While Mercedes de Villagran is being brought from the cells, two thieves, Messrs. Bravo de Saravio and Pedro Sorez de Ulloa, already sent for and just brought from the cells, are considered. Captain Callahan is interrogated by the Court from without through an open window, and Captain Callahan's information causes the Court to command that the two thieves be remanded, the case being grave, and be kept incommunicado waiting the evidence in process of being gathered.

His Name Upon His Arm

MERCEDES DE VILLAGRAN proves to be a wizened little old woman, very worn, very miserable, very frightened, who is charged with having in her possession munitions of war. Worst of all, a double handful of Mauser cartridges is exhibited in evidence. In a thin, quavering falsetto she explains that after the street fighting, pursuing her regular vocation of garbage picking, she did find and retain possession of the munitions of war, deeming them of value and unaware that possession of them constituted a grave offense or any offense at all.

"Case dismissed—turn her loose," and the captain-judge has forgotten her on the instant and forever in the thick rush of his crowded life, but him she will ever remember, to her last breath, in her chatter of gossip with her garbage-picking sisters of Vera Cruz.

A prisoner is called, whose entry on the docket causes the Court's brows to corrugate; for the man has no name, and is entered as "P," with a note to the effect that Captain Callahan will explain.

Captain Callahan, not for the moment findable, possibly engaged in receiving another lady in a handcart, the Court tries two more cases of drunk, one, a second offense, receiving sixteen days and a warning that on a third offense he will be sent out through the lines.

Captain Callahan arrives, rolls up the sleeve of the man "P," shows a letter "P" inked on the man's arm, and explains that the defendant, arriving at jail so hopelessly drunk as to be speechless, could be entered in no other safely identifiable way, wherefore he had inked the man's arm, and there was the proof of it. Mr. "P," somewhat recovered after a night's sleep, is able to state that his name is Alonzo de Codova y Figueroa. The soldier clerk, remembering the face and searching the record, announces that Alonze de Codova y Figueroa is a second-timer, and Alonze de Codova y Figueroa, in debt to the United States with his time to the extent of sixteen days, is taken away.

Patience, Swiftness, and Certitude

THE handcart, the proprietor of the Hotel Diligencia, and the policeman arrive in high garrulity. The proprietor is a squat, stoop-shouldered, pock-marked, white-haired Cuban, whose state of mind is one of amazement in that the handcart, on which he never laid eyes before, should have been found on his premises.

The handcart man looks on his property with joy, and cannot understand why the Captain-Judge does not immediately permit him to take it away, while the Captain-Judge receives particulars of a house raid the previous night in which four Mausers and a thousand rounds of ammunition had been unearthed.

Appears Tomas Martin de Poveda, charged with the ghastly crime of maintaining unclean premises. After a brief lecture on hygiene and sanitation, the Court gives the culprit twenty-four hours in which to clean up, and Thomas Martin de Poveda departs, shaking his had at such administration of justice by the thrice lunatice gringos.

A shopkeeper and a cigar maker arrive, take oath, and testify that José de Garro is truly José de Garro and that the handcart is truly his property, and José de Garro goes on his way rejoicing that God's still in heaven and justice in Vera Cruz.

The cases of three thieves, charged with stealing from the customhouse, and of a fence who bought the stolen property, are inquired into and continued. Follows a Jamaica negro cook and a cockney steward from an English steamer, jointly charged with stealing a gold watch from a Spanish refugee.

The Court interrogates all three, discharges the negro, holds the cockney for trial, and dispatches a summons for the master of the ship to appear in court next morning, accompanied by a polite request first to search the cockney's belongings on board ship.

More men are warned for maintaining unclean premises; and one man, for having struck his wife, a dark-skinned, bovine-eyed Indian Madonna who testifies reluctantly, receives ten days, and is thunderstruck that such maladministration of justice can be. A thin-face widow, in a blight of black, pays the fine of her roistering eldest born, who, while crazed with several centavos' worth of ninety-proof aguardiente, demolished a window and portions of the anatomy of a spigotty policeman. The Captain-Judge has seen service in Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines, and his "Carabao English," so learned, stands him in good stead. Not merely on occasion, but on many occasions, he corrects and checks the interpreter when that worthy fails properly to interpret shades of meaning or engages in animated discussions with prisoners and witnesses on irrelevant topics. Another thing that characterized the efficiency of this blond lawgiver of a regular army captain, whose ancestors must have been more than closely related to Hengist and Horsa, is his combined patience, swiftness, and certitude. Rough and ready his justice is, but legal always, and unswayed by the seriousness or lightness of any case. He opposes directness and simplicity to the garrulity and immateriality of the Vera Cruzans. His patient questions go to the point, he achieves his conclusion in the midst of some longwinded explanation of things concerning other things and not the things at issue, and suddenly, like a shot, he enunciates his decision: "I find you guilty—forty days"; or: "Not guilty—next case."

Sentencing a Leech

HE finds Martin Onez de Loyola, a full-blooded Spaniard, guilty of a particularly mean crime and sentences him to six months—this merely to hold him until he can be deported to his native country, which is Spain. But the Captain-Judge is thorough. He gives instructions that when the convicted man is deported the Chief of Police of Barcelona be warned to nab him when he disembarks on his native soil.

This case of Martin Onez de Loyola merits the harshness of the sentence. A well-to-do but ignorant Mexican woman of the capital had married her deceased husband's brother, equally well-to-do and ignorant. Loyola, becoming aware of the matter, had assured them hat it was a terrible crime, and had bled them, at different times, of over ten thousand pesos. In order to escape him they had started to flee the country; but Loyola, true leech that he was, followed them through the lines of two hostile armies to Vera Cruz. And so, thanks to the Captain-Judge, they were able to return to Mexico, while their persecutor, willy-nilly, made the voyage to Spain.

Franisco Hernandez, trouble-eyed and stupid, charged with stealing a barrel of wine, positively declares himself not guilty, and the patient Court unravels the tangle. Pedro de Valvidia, owner of a cantina, and his barkeeper, Garcia de Mendoza, testify to catching the thief in the act and to apprehending him with the barrel already rolled out on the sidewalk and merrily rolling onward.

He Stole a Barrel

TWO peon witnesses testify to having seen Francisco Hernandez captured while rolling the barrel, and the case begins to look dark for Francisco Hernandez, who has pleaded non guilty. But he receives inspiration. He acknowledges all the facts testified to. He was not the owner of the barrel. He did go into the cantina and roll out the barrel. He was caught by the owner and barkeeper in the manner described, but—and he makes the explanation that is as ancient as the first theft of portable property—it happened that as he came along the street looking for a job, his profession being that of a cargador, two strange men approached him and hired him to convey the barrel of wine, which they had just purchased, to their residence. That was all. He was innocent as a new-born babe. What did he want with a whole barrel of wine? What could he do with a whole barrel of wine, being a temperate as well as an honest man?

"Where were you going to deliver the barrel?" the Court demands.

Francisco Hernandez somehow cannot remember the address.

"Who were the men?"

Francisco Hernandez says they were strangers.

"Describe them."

And one can actually see Francisco Hernandez's imagination working at high pressure as he paints the portraits of the two mythical strangers.

The Court asks several other questions not very important, merely concerning his whereabouts earlier in the day and how often he succeeded in getting work, and Francisco Hernandez, believing that his tale is believed, grows confident.

"Describe the two men," the Court suddenly commands.

The Case of Rosalia

POOR Hernandez is taken by surprise. He stumbles and halts, tries to remember his extempore description of the two individuals, diverges, slips up, falls down, and, in the midst of his gropings and stutterings, is astounded to hear the Captain-Judge decisively utter just three words: "Guilty—six months." And while the interpreter is transposing this misfortune into understandable Spanish terms, the Captain-Judge is already into the thick of the next case.

And this is a case destined to make the entire native population of Vera Cruz sit up and take notice that never was similar justice dispensed before, albeit 4,000 soldiers and 20,000 marines and bluejackets, to say nothing of $100,000,000 worth of warships, were required to install the Captain-Judge in the Municipal Palace.

It is a sordid, squalid case. Rosalia de Xara Quemada and Cristovel de la Cerda are the culprits. Alonzo de Xara Quemada is the husband of Rosalia, and is also the complainant. He is a bulgy-eyed, cadaverous-cheeked, vulpine-faced individual, and he grins vindictively and triumphantly as he makes his charge.

Rosalia is frightened and dumbly defiant. She has a full, oval face, wavy brown hair parted in the middle and neatly bound with a light blue ribbon, and dangling earrings. There is just sufficient Spanish in the Indian of her to give her temperament and to account for the inimitable draping of the brown shawl about her shoulders and hips. Cristovel, the lover, is a depressed and gloomy young man who keeps books for a living.

A Judgment of Solomon

ROSALIA and Cristovel plead guilty, and are prepared for merciless judgment at the hands of the Captain-Judge who transacts justice with a big automatic at his hip and with armed soldiers for his attendants. But the Captain-Judge is not satisfied. He asks Rosalia and her husband, Alonzo, many penetrating questions. They have five children. For four years Alonzo has not contributed a centavo toward their support. Rosalia, by scrubbing, by peddling, by cooking, and by various other ways has given the entire support to her brood of five.

As all this comes out, Rosalia seems to take heart of courage and grows voluble, while Alonzo glowers at her in a way that would bode a beating were there none present to interfere. The reason her husband had had her arrested, Rosalia volunteers, was that just previous to the arrest she had refuse to lend him five pesos. At other times in the past she had loaned him money. No, he had never returned a single loan.

The Captain-Judge orders the culprits to step forward to receive sentence, knits his brow for a moment in thought, and proceeds:

"Cristovel de la Cerda. You have pleaded guilty of the grave offense of adultery. By the Mexican law of this State I could sentence you to two years. But I shall not be harsh. I shall sentence you to six months. The sentence, however, will be suspended and I release you here and now on probation. You will report to this court every Saturday morning at nine o'clock with a letter from your employer attesting your good behavior."

As the interpreter turns this into Spanish, the husband's face is a rich study. At the mention of two years, it is hilarious. The six months' sentence leaves it sill hilarious, but not so hilarious. The suspension of the sentence positively floors Alonzo, and the angry blood surges darkly under his skin.

"There Is No Mexican Law Here"

ROSALIA is similarly sentenced, released on probation, told to report every Saturday morning, and admonished to be good. But the case is not over. Alonzo de Xara Quemada, distraught with this frightful miscarriage of justice, is ordered to stand forth.

"Alonzo de Xara Quemada, your conduct has been most reprehensible."

While the interpreter struggles with the dictionary for the Spanish equivalent of the introductory sentence, Alonzo looks as if he expects to be backed up against a wall the next moment and shot.

"These five children are yours just as much as they are Rosalia's. From now on you shall do your share toward supporting them. Each week you shall pay to Rosalia the sum of five pesos. Each Saturday morning at nine o'clock you shall appear before me with the receipt for the five pesos. If you don't, we will see what six months in jail will do for you."

The whole thing is too unthinkably hideous for Alonzo. He blows up, and in impassioned language forswears and disowns Rosalia, the five children, and all memory of them and responsibility for them, forever and forever. Furthermore, he will not pay the weekly five pesos. Who ever heard of such a thing? He denies the Captain-Judge's right in the matter, and all in wild harangue announces that he will appeal to the Mexican courts against such injustice.

Whereupon the Captain-Judge's fist comes down on the desk, and the Captain-Judge thunders:

"There is no Mexican law here. I am the law. You will pay the five pesos. To-day is Thursday. Next Saturday you will appear before me with the receipt for the first five pesos. Vamos."

Alonzo de Xara Quemada starts to protests, but two soldiers, with wicked-looking bayonets on the ends of their rifles, step forward, and Alonzo subsided.

A Moving Picture

I DEPARTED on his heels, greedily enjoying the maledictions he muttered down the street. And on Saturday morning I made it a point to be present at the Provost Court at nine o'clock. Sure enough, Alonzo de Xara Quemada was there, sullenly exhibiting a receipt for five pesos signed by one Rosalia de Xara Quemada.

And all the affairs and transactions I have described in this article constitute but a portion of one morning's work in one Provost Court of the five Provost Courts sitting in Vera Cruz.

Before I cease, I cannot forbear describing a little scene I witnessed right after Alonzo's plaint had died away down the street. Captain Callahan was engaged in receiving a lady who was more difficult to receive than if she had come in a handcart. A sweaty and disheveled spigotty policeman had brought her, and she had fought him all the way to such effect that he stood near the entrance to the cells too exhausted to move her a step further. In vain Captain Callahan ordered him to proceed with her. She was the stronger, and she had caught her second wind. Just as she flung herself on the policeman in savage onslaught, a big American soldier strode to her and tapped her authoritatively on the arm. She turned and stared up at him. He spoke no word, but with a curt thrust of his thumb over his shoulder indicated the way to the cells. She wilted into all meekness and obedience, and meekly and obediently, without a hand being laid on her, walked into the cell room.

title: Lawgivers


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Page:Sons and Lovers, 1913, Lawrence.djvu/98

86 Now, what have I to take him? Eh, dear! His clean shirt—and it’s a blessing it is clean. But it had better be aired. And stockings—he won’t want them—and a towel, I suppose; and handkerchiefs. Now what else?”

“A comb, a knife and fork and spoon,” said Paul. His father had been in the hospital before.

“Goodness knows what sort of state his feet were in,” continued Mrs. Morel, as she combed her long brown hair, that was fine as silk, and was touched now with grey. “He’s very particular to wash himself to the waist, but below he thinks it doesn’t matter. But there, I suppose they see plenty like it.”

“Paul had laid the table. He cut his mother one or two pieces of very thin bread-and-butter.

“Here you are,” he said, putting her cup of tea in her place.

“I can’t be bothered!” she exclaimed crossly.

“Well, you’ve got to, so there, now it’s put out ready,” he insisted.

So she sat down and sipped her tea, and ate a little, in silence. She was thinking.

In a few minutes she was gone, to walk the two and a half miles to Keston Station. All the things she was taking him she had in her bulging string bag. Paul watched her go up the road between the hedges—a little, quick-stepping figure, and his heart ached for her, that she was thrust forward again into pain and trouble. And she, tripping so quickly in her anxiety, felt at the back of her her son’s heart waiting on her, felt him bearing what part of the burden he could, even supporting her. And when she was at the hospital, she thought: “It will upset that lad when I tell him how bad it is. I’d better be careful.” And when she was trudging home again, she felt he was coming to share her burden.

“Is it bad?” asked Paul, as soon as she entered the house.

“It’s bad enough,” she replied.

“What?”

She sighed and sat down, undoing her bonnet-strings. Her son watched her face as it was lifted, and her small, work-hardened hands fingering at the bow under her chin.

“Well,” she answered, “it’s not really dangerous, but the nurse says it’s a dreadful smash. You see, a great piece of rock fell on his leg—here—and it’s a compound fracture. There are pieces of bone sticking through——”

“Ugh—how horrid!” exclaimed the children.


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Rh “And,” she continued, “of course he says he’s going to die—it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. ‘I’m done for, my lass!’ he said, looking at me. ‘Don’t be so silly,’ I said to him. ‘You’re not going to die of a broken leg, however badly it’s smashed.’ ‘I s’ll niver come out of ’ere but in a wooden box,’ he groaned. ‘Well, I said, ‘if you want them to carry you into the garden in a wooden box, when you’re better, I’ve no doubt they will.’ ‘If we think it’s good for him,” said the Sister. She’s an awfully nice Sister, but rather strict.”

Mrs. Morel took off her bonnet. The children waited in silence.

“Of course, he is bad,” she continued, “and he will be. It’s a great shock, and he’s lost a lot of blood; and, of course, it is a very dangerous smash. It’s not at all sure that it will mend so easily. And then there’s the fever and the mortiiication—if it took bad ways he’d quickly be gone. But there, he’s a clean-blooded man, with wonderful healing flesh, and so I see no reason why it should take bad ways. Of course there’s a wound——”

She was pale now with emotion and anxiety. The three children realized that it was very bad for their father, and the house was silent, anxious.

“But he always gets better,” said Paul after a while.

“That’s what I tell him,” said the mother.

Everybody moved about in silence.

“And he really looked nearly done for,” she said. “But the Sister says that is the pain.”

Annie took away her mother’s coat and bonnet.

“And he looked at me when I came away! I said: ‘I s’ll have to go now, Walter, because of the train—and the children.’ And he looked at me. It seems hard.”

Paul took up his brush again and went on painting. Arthur went outside for some coal. Annie sat looking dismal. And Mrs. Morel, in her little rocking-chair that her husband had made for her when the first baby was coming, remained motionless, brooding. She was grieved, and bitterly sorry for the man who was hurt so much. But still, in her heart of hearts, where the love should have burned, there was a blank. Now, when all her woman’s pity was roused to its full extent, when she would have slaved herself to death to nurse him and to save him, when she would have taken the pain herself, if she could, somewhere far away inside her, she felt indifferent to him and to his suffering. It hurt her most


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88 of all, this failure to love him, even when he roused her strong emotions. She brooded awhile.

“And there,” she said suddenly, “when I’d got half-way to Keston, I found I’d come out in my working boots—and look at them.” They were an old pair of Paul’s, brown and rubbed through at the toes. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, for shame,” she added.

In the morning, when Annie and Arthur were at school, Mrs. Morel talked again to her son, who was helping her with her housework.

“I found Barker at the hospital. He did look bad, poor little fellow! ‘Well,’ I said to him, ‘what sort of a journey did you have with him?’ ‘Dunna ax me, missis!’ he said ‘Ay,’ I said, ‘I know what he’d be.’ ‘But it wor bad for him, Mrs. Morel, it wor that!’ he said. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘At ivry jolt I thought my ’eart would ha’ flown clean out o’ my mouth,’ he said. ‘An’ the scream ’e give sometimes! Missis, not for a fortune would I go through wi’ it again.’ ‘I can quite understand it,’ I said. ‘It’s a nasty job, though,’ he said, ‘an’ one as’ll be a long while afore it’s right again! ‘I’m afraid it will,’ I said. I like Mr. Barker—I do like him. There’s something so manly about him.”

Paul resumed his task silently.

“And of course,” Mrs. Morel continued, “for a man like your father, the hospital is hard. He can’t understand rules and regulations. And he won’t let anybody else touch him, not if he can help it. When he smashed the muscles of his thigh, and it had to be dressed four times a day, would he let anybody but me or his mother do it? He wouldn’t. So, of course, he’ll suffer in there with the nurses. And I didn’t like leaving him. I’m sure, when I kissed him an’ came away, it seemed a shame.”

So she talked to her son, almost as if she were thinking aloud to him, and he took it in as best he could, by sharing her trouble to lighten it. And in the end she shared almost everything with him without knowing.

Morel had a very bad time. For a week he was in a critical condition. Then he began to mend. And then, knowing he was going to get better, the whole family sighed with relief, and proceeded to live happily.

They were not badly off whilst Morel was in the hospital. There were fourteen shillings a week from the pit, ten shillings from the sick club, and five shillings from the Disability Fund; and then every week the butties had something for


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Page:Burma Civil Liberties Poster - NARA - 5729921.jpg

ဗမာ့ဝါဒ·အမှတ်·၁ ငါတို့သည် လွတ်လပ်စွါ ပြောဆိုခွင့်။ လွတ်လပ်စွါ ရေးသားခွင့်။ လွတ်လပ်စွါ စည်းရုံးခွင့်။ လွတ်လပ်စွါ ကိုးကွယ်ခွင့်။ တို့ကို လိုချင်သည်

ငါတို့သည် ပါးစပ်ရှိလျက် မပြောရသောဘဝ။ မျက်စိရှိလျက် မမြင်ရသောဘဝ။ နားရှိလျက် မ ကြားရသောဘဝ။ ကျွဲနွားများပမာ စေခိုင်းသည်ကိုသာ လုပ်ရသောဘဝ။ မျိုးကို မလိုချင်


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 INDEX

Absolute, oneness with the, 419. Abstractness of religious objects, 53. , 86., 63. Adaptation to environment, of things, 438; of saints, 374-377. Æsthetic elements in religions, 460. Alacoque, 310, 344, 413. Alcohol, 387. , 402., 341. , 228. , 159, 217. Alternations of personality, 193. , 116., 394. Anæsthesia, 288. Anæsthetic revelation, 387-393. , 417. Anger, 181, 264. 'Anhedonia,' 145. Aristocratic type, 371. , 495. Ars, le Curé 302. Aseity, God's, 439, 445. Atman, 400. Attributes of God, 440; their æsthetic use, 458. , 171, 361, 496., see. Automatic writing, 62, 478. Automatisms, 234, 250, 478-483.

, 347, 503., 83. , 256. , see. Belief, due to non-rationalistic impulses, 73. , 23, 168. Bhagavad-Gita, 361. , 421., 389. , 113. , 410, 417, 418. , 203. , 344. , 263. , 321. , 502. , 212, 253. , 249, 256, 290. , 512. , 515. , 398. Buddhism, 31, 34, 522. Buddhist mysticism, 401. , 287., 157, 160. , 411.

, 106. ., on feeling in religion, 434; on absolute self, 450; he does not prove, but reaffirms, religions dicta, 453. , 289., 41, 300. , 319. Catharine, Saint, of Genoa, 289. Catholicism and Protestantism compared, 114, 227, 336, 461. Causality of God, 517, 522. Cause, 502. , 301. Centres of personal energy, 196, 267, 523. Cerebration, unconscious, 207. Chance, 526. , 300, 488., 324. Character, cause of its alterations, 193; scheme of its differences of type, 197, 214. Causes of its diversity, 261; balance of, 340. Charity, 274, 278, 310, 355. Chastity, 310. Chiefs of tribes, 371. Christian Science, 106. Christ's atonement, 129, 245. Churches, 335, 460. , 389., 481. , 240. Conduct, perfect, 355. Confession, 462. Consciousness, fields of, 231; subliminal, 233.


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Rh Mrs. Morel—five or seven shillings—so that she was quite well to do. And whilst Morel was progressing favourably in the hospital, the family was extraordinarily happy and peaceful. On Saturdays and Wednesdays Mrs. Morel went to Nottingham to see her husband. Then she always brought back some little thing: a small tube of paints for Paul, or some thick paper; a couple of postcards for Annie, that the whole family rejoiced over for days before the girl was allowed to send them away; or a fret-saw for Arthur, or a bit of pretty wood. She described her adventures into the big shops with joy. Soon the folk in the picture-shop knew her, and knew about Paul. The girl in the book-shop took a keen interest in her. Mrs. Morel was full of information when she got home from Nottingham. The three sat round till bedtime, listening, putting in, arguing. Then Paul often raked the fire.

“I’m the man in the house now,” he used to say to his mother with joy. They learned how perfectly peaceful the home could be. And they almost regretted—though none of them would have owned to such callousness—that their father was soon coming back.

Paul was now fourteen, and was looking for work. He was a rather small and rather finely-made boy, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. His face had already lost its youthful chubbiness, and was becoming somewhat like William’s—rough-featured, almost rugged—and it was extraordinarily mobile. Usually he looked as if he saw things, was full of life, and warm; then his smile, like his mother’s, came suddenly and was very lovable; and then, when there was any clog in his soul’s quick running, his face went stupid and ugly. He was the sort of boy that becomes a clown and a lout as soon as he is not understood, or feels himself held cheap; and, again, is adorable at the first touch of warmth.

He suffered very much from the first contact with anything. When he was seven, the starting school had been a nightmare and a torture to him. But afterwards he liked it. And now that he felt he had to go out into life, he went through agonies of shrinking self-consciousness. He was quite a clever painter for a boy of his years, and he knew some French and German and mathematics that Mr. Heaton had taught him. But nothing he had was of any commercial value. He was not strong enough for heavy manual work, his mother said. He did not care for making things with his hands,


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90 racing about, or making excursions into the country, or reading, or painting.

“What do you want to be?” his mother asked.

“Anything.”

“That is no answer,” said Mrs. Morel.

But it was quite truthfully the only answer he could give. His ambition, as far as this world’s gear went, was quietly to earn his thirty or thirty-five shillings a week somewhere near home, and then, when his father died, have a cottage with his mother, paint and go out as he liked, and live happy ever after. That was his programme as far as doing things went. But he was proud within himself, measuring people against himself, and placing them, inexorably. And he thought that perhaps he might also make a painter, the real thing. But that he left alone.

“Then,” said his mother, “you must look in the paper for the advertisements.”

He looked at her. It seemed to him a bitter humiliation and an anguish to go through. But he said nothing. When he got up in the morning, his whole being was knotted up over this one thought:

“I’ve got to go and look for advertisements for a job.”

It stood in front of the morning, that thought, killing all joy and even life, for him. His heart felt like a tight knot.

And then, at ten o’clock, he set off. He was supposed to be a queer, quiet child. Going up the sunny street of the little town, he felt as if all the folk he met said to themselves: “He’s going to the Co-op reading-room to look in the papers for a place. He can’t get a job. I suppose he’s living on his mother.” Then he crept lap the stone stairs behind the drapery shop at the Co-op, an peeped in the reading-room. Usually one or two men were there, either old, useless fellows, or colliers “on the club.” So he entered, full of shrinking and suffering when they looked up, seated himself at the table, and pretended to scan the news. He knew they would think, “What does a lad of thirteen want in a reading-room with a newspaper?” and he suffered.

Then he looked wistfully out of the window. Already he was a prisoner of industrialism. Large sunflowers stared over the old red wall of the garden opposite, looking in their jolly way down on the women who were hurrying with something for dinner. The valley was full of corn, brightening in the sun. Two collieries, among the fields, waved their small white plumes of steam. Far off on the hills were the


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244 by my reason and my will, which were themselves diseased, would be to act like a blind man who should pretend to correct one of his eyes by the aid of the other equally blind one. I had then no resource save in some influence from without. I remembered the promise of the Holy Ghost; and what the positive declarations of the Gospel had never succeeded in bringing home to me, I learned at last from necessity, and believed, for the first time in my life, in this promise, in the only sense in which it answered the needs of my soul, in that, namely, of a real external supernatural action, capable of giving me thoughts, and taking them away from me, and exerted on me by a God as truly master of my heart as he is of the rest of nature. Renouncing then all merit, all strength, abandoning all my personal resources, and acknowledging no other title to his mercy than my own utter misery, I went home and threw myself on my knees, and prayed as I never yet prayed in my life. From this day onwards a new interior life began for me: not that my melancholy had disappeared, but it had lost its sting. Hope had entered into my heart, and once entered on the path, the God of Jesus Christ, to whom I then had learned to give myself up, little by little did the rest."

It is needless to remind you once more of the admirable congruity of Protestant theology with the structure of the mind as shown in such experiences. In the extreme of melancholy the self that consciously is can do absolutely nothing. It is completely bankrupt and without resource, and no works it can accomplish will avail. Redemption from such subjective conditions must be a free gift or nothing, and grace through Christ's accomplished sacrifice is such a gift.

"God," says Luther, "is the God of the humble, the miserable, the oppressed, and the desperate, and of those that are brought even to nothing; and his nature is to give sight to the


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Rh blind, to comfort the broken-hearted, to justify sinners, to save the very desperate and damned. Now that pernicious and pestilent opinion of man's own righteousness, which will not be a sinner, unclean, miserable, and damnable, but righteous and holy, suffereth not God to come to his own natural and proper work. Therefore God must take this maul in hand (the law, I mean) to beat in pieces and bring to nothing this beast with her vain confidence, that she may so learn at length by her own misery that she is utterly forlorn and damned. But here lieth the difficulty, that when a man is terrified and cast down, he is so little able to raise himself up again and say, 'Now I am bruised and afflicted enough; now is the time of grace; now is the time to hear Christ.' The foolishness of man's heart is so great that then he rather seeketh to himself more laws to satisfy his conscience. 'If I live,' saith he, 'I will amend my life: I will do this, I will do that.' But here, except thou do the quite contrary, except thou send Moses away with his law, and in these terrors and this anguish lay hold upon Christ who died for thy sins, look for no salvation. Thy cowl, thy shaven crown, thy chastity, thy obedience, thy poverty, thy works, thy merits? what shall all these do? what shall the law of Moses avail? If I, wretched and damnable sinner, through works or merits could have loved the Son of God, and so come to him, what needed he to deliver himself for me? If I, being a wretch and damned sinner, could be redeemed by any other price, what needed the Son of God to be given? But because there was no other price, therefore he delivered neither sheep, ox, gold, nor silver, but even God himself, entirely and wholly 'for me,' even 'for me,' I say, a miserable, wretched sinner. Now, therefore, I take comfort and apply this to myself. And this manner of applying is the very true force and power of faith. For he died not to justify the righteous, but the un-righteous, and to make them the children of God."

That is, the more literally lost you are, the more literally you are the very being whom Christ's sacrifice has already saved. Nothing in Catholic theology, I imagine,


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Rh So far I have spoken of temporary alterations produced by shifting excitements in the same person. But the relatively fixed differences of character of different persons are explained in a precisely similar way. In a man with a liability to a special sort of emotion, whole ranges of inhibition habitually vanish, which in other men remain effective, and other sorts of inhibition take their place. When a person has an inborn genius for certain emotions, his life differs strangely from that of ordinary people, for none of their usual deterrents check him. Your mere aspirant to a type of character, on the contrary, only shows, when your natural lover, fighter, or reformer, with whom the passion is a gift of nature, comes along, the hopeless inferiority of voluntary to instinctive action. He has deliberately to overcome his inhibitions; the genius with the inborn passion seems not to feel them at all; he is free of all that inner friction and nervous waste. To a Fox, a Garibaldi, a General Booth, a John Brown, a Louise Michel, a Bradlaugh, the obstacles omnipotent over those around them are as if non-existent. Could the rest of us so disregard them, there might be many such heroes, for many have the wish to live for similar ideals, and only the adequate degree of inhibition-quenching fury is lacking.


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266 The difference between willing and merely wishing, between having ideals that are creative and ideals that are but pinings and regrets, thus depends solely either on the amount of steam-pressure chronically driving the character in the ideal direction, or on the amount of ideal excitement transiently acquired. Given a certain amount of love, indignation, generosity, magnanimity, admiration, loyalty, or enthusiasm of self-surrender, the result is always the same. That whole raft of cowardly obstructions, which in tame persons and dull moods are sovereign impediments to action, sinks away at once. Our conventionality, our shyness, laziness, and stinginess, our demands for precedent and permission, for guarantee and surety, our small suspicions, timidities, despairs, where are they now? Severed like cobwebs, broken like bubbles in the sun—

The flood we are borne on rolls them so lightly under that their very contact is unfelt. Set free of them, we float and soar and sing. This auroral openness and


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Rh together. It was pleasure, without the least sting, or any interruption. It was a sweetness, which my soul was lost in; it seemed to be all that my feeble frame could sustain. There was but little difference, whether I was asleep or awake, but if there was any difference, the sweetness was greatest while I was asleep. As I awoke early the next morning, it seemed to me that I had entirely done with myself. I felt that the opinions of the world concerning me were nothing, and that I had no more to do with any outward interest of my own than with that of a person whom I never saw. The glory of God seemed to swallow up every wish and desire of my heart. … After retiring to rest and sleeping a little while, I awoke, and was led to reflect on God's mercy to me, in giving me, for many years, a willingness to die; and after that, in making me willing to live, that I might do and suffer whatever he called me to here. I also thought how God had graciously given me an entire resignation to his will, with respect to the kind and manner of death that I should die; having been made willing to die on the rack, or at the stake, and if it were God's will, to die in darkness. But now it occurred to me, I used to think of living no longer than to the ordinary age of man. Upon this I was led to ask myself, whether I was not willing to be kept out of heaven even longer; and my whole heart seemed immediately to reply: Yes, a thousand years, and a thousand in horror, if it be most for the honor of God, the torment of my body being so great, awful, and overwhelming that none could bear to live in the country where the spectacle was seen, and the torment of my mind being vastly greater. And it seemed to me that I found a perfect willingness, quietness, and alacrity of soul in


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282 "I went down the drift and found the boy crying because a fellow-workman was trying to take the wagon from him by force. I said to him:—

"'Tom, you mustn't take that wagon.'

"He swore at me, and called me a Methodist devil. I told him that God did not tell me to let him rob me. He cursed again, and said he would push the wagon over me.

"'Well,' I said, let us see whether the devil and thee are stronger than the Lord and me.'

"And the Lord and I proving stronger than the devil and he, he had to get out of the way, or the wagon would have gone over him. So I gave the wagon to the boy. Then said Tom:

"'I've a good mind to smack thee on the face.'

"'Well,' I said, 'if that will do thee any good, thou canst do it.' So he struck me on the face.

"I turned the other cheek to him, and said, 'Strike again.'

"He struck again and again, till he had struck me five times. I turned my cheek for the sixth stroke; but he turned away cursing. I shouted after him: 'The Lord forgive thee, for I do, and the Lord save thee.'

"This was on a Saturday; and when I went home from the coal-pit my wife saw my face was swollen, and asked what was the matter with it. I said: 'I've been fighting, and I've given a man a good thrashing.'

"She burst out weeping, and said, 'O Richard, what made you fight?' Then I told her all about it; and she thanked the Lord I had not struck back.

"But the Lord had struck, and his blows have more effect than man's. Monday came. The devil began to tempt me, saying: 'The other men will laugh at thee for allowing Tom to treat thee as he did on Saturday.' I cried, 'Get thee behind me, Satan;'—and went on my way to the coal-pit.

"Tom was the first man I saw. I said 'Good-morning,' but got no reply.

"He went down first. When I got down, I was surprised to see him sitting on the wagon-road waiting for me. When I came to him he burst into tears and said: 'Richard, will you forgive me for striking you?'


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Rh and garments. Dyes being invented partly to please the eye, and partly to hide dirt, I have felt in this weak state, when traveling in dirtiness, and affected with unwholesome scents, a strong desire that the nature of dyeing cloth to hide dirt may be more fully considered.

"Washing our garments to keep them sweet is cleanly, but it is the opposite to real cleanliness to hide dirt in them. Through giving way to hiding dirt in our garments a spirit which would conceal that which is disagreeable is strengthened. Real cleanliness becometh a holy people; but hiding that which is not clean by coloring our garments seems contrary to the sweetness of sincerity. Through some sorts of dyes cloth is rendered less useful. And if the value of dyestuffs, and expense of dyeing, and the damage done to cloth, were all added together, and that cost applied to keeping all sweet and clean, how much more would real cleanliness prevail.

"Thinking often on these things, the use of hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, and wearing more clothes in summer than are useful, grew more uneasy to me; believing them to be customs which have not their foundation in pure wisdom. The apprehension of being singular from my beloved friends was a strait upon me; and thus I continued in the use of some things, contrary to my judgment, about nine months. Then I thought of getting a hat the natural color of the fur, but the apprehension of being looked upon as one affecting singularity felt uneasy to me. On this account I was under close exercise of mind in the time of our general spring meeting in 1762, greatly desiring to be rightly directed; when, being deeply bowed in spirit before the Lord, I was made willing to submit to what I apprehended was required of me; and when I returned home, got a hat of the natural color of the fur.

"In attending meetings, this singularity was a trial to me, and more especially at this time, as white hats were used by some who were fond of following the changeable modes of dress, and as some friends, who knew not from what motives I wore it, grew shy of me, I felt my way for a time shut up in the exercise of the ministry. Some friends were apprehensive that my wearing such a hat savored of an affected singularity:


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22, 1807, while Jefferson at Washington was fuming over Chief-Justice Marshall's subpoena, and while the grand jury at Richmond were on the point of finding their indictment against Burr, an event occurred at sea, off the entrance to Chesapeake Bay, which threw the country into violent excitement, distracting attention from Burr, and putting to a supreme test the theories of Jefferson's statesmanship.

That the accident which then happened should not have happened long before was matter for wonder, considering the arbitrary character of British naval officers and their small regard for neutral rights. For many years the open encouragement offered to the desertion of British seamen in American ports had caused extreme annoyance to the royal navy; and nowhere had this trouble been more serious than at Norfolk. Early in 1807 a British squadron happened to be lying within the Capes watching for some French frigates which had taken refuge at Annapolis.