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220 rather good, what! Everything comes to him who waits, and you're a waiter, what, what. I mean to say, what!"

"Mummie," said the child at the other table, still speculative, "do you think something trod on his face?"

"Hush, darling."

"Perhaps it was bitten by something?"

"Eat your nice fish, darling," said the mother, who seemed to be one of those dull-witted persons whom it is impossible to interest in a discussion on first causes.

Archie felt stimulated. Not even the advent of his father-in-law, who came in a few moments later and sat down at the other end of the room, could depress his spirits.

The Sausage Chappie came to his table again.

"It's a funny thing," he said. "Like waking up after you've been asleep. Everything seems to be getting clearer. The dog's name was Marie. My wife's dog, you know. And she had a mole on her chin."

"The dog?"

"No. My wife. Little beast! She bit me in the leg once."

"Your wife?"

"No. The dog. Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie.

Archie looked up and followed his gaze.

A couple of tables away, next to a sideboard on which the management exposed for view the cold meats and puddings and pies mentioned in volume two of the bill of fare ("Buffet Froid"), a man and a girl had just seated themselves. The man was stout and middle-aged. He bulged in practically every place in which a man can bulge, and his head was amost entirely free from

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Rh hair. The girl was young and pretty. Her eyes were blue. Her hair was brown. She had a rather attractive little mole on the left side of her chin.

"Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie.

"Now what?" said Archie.

"Who's that? Over at the table there?"

Archie, through long attendance at the Cosmopolis Grill, knew most of the habitués by sight.

"That's a man named Gossett. James J. Gossett. He's a motion-picture man. You must have seen his name around."

"I don't mean him. Who's the girl?"

"I've never seen her before."

"It's my wife!" said the Sausage Chappie.

"Your wife!"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Well, well, well!" said Archie. "Many happy returns of the day!"

At the other table, the girl, unconscious of the drama which was about to enter her life, was engrossed in conversation with the stout man. And at this moment the stout man leaned forward and patted her on the cheek.

It was a paternal pat, the pat which a genial uncle might bestow on a favourite niece, but it did not strike the Sausage Chappie in that light. He had been advancing on the table at a fairly rapid pace, and now, stirred to his depths, he bounded forward with a hoarse cry.

Archie was at some pains to explain to his father-in-law later that, if the management left cold pies and things

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222 about all over the place, this sort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. He urged that it was putting temptation in people's way, and that Mr. Brewster had only himself to blame. Whatever the rights of the case, the Buffet Froid undoubtedly came in remarkably handy at this crisis in the Sausage Chappie's life. He had almost reached the sideboard when the stout man patted the girl's cheek, and to seize a huckleberry pie was with him the work of a moment. The next instant the pie had whizzed past the other's head and burst like a shell against the wall.

There are, no doubt, restaurants where this sort of thing would have excited little comment, but the Cosmopolis was not one of them. Everybody had something to say, but the only one among those present who had anything sensible to say was the child in the sailor suit.

"Do it again!" said the child, cordially.

The Sausage Chappie did it again. He took up a fruit salad, poised it for a moment, then decanted it over Mr. Gossett's bald head. The child's happy laughter rang over the restaurant. Whatever anybody else might think of the affair, this child liked it and was prepared to go on record to that effect.

Epic events have a stunning quality. They paralyse the faculties. For a moment there was a pause. The world stood still. Mr. Brewster bubbled inarticulately. Mr. Gossett dried himself sketchily with a napkin. The Sausage Chapie snorted.

The girl had risen to her feet and was staring wildly.

"John!" she cried.

Even at this moment of crisis the Sausage Chappie was able to look relieved.

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Rh "So it is!" he said. "And I thought it was Lancelot!"

"I thought you were dead!"

"I'm not!" said the Sausage Chappie.

Mr. Gossett, speaking thickly through the fruit-salad, was understood to say that he regretted this. And then confusion broke loose again. Everybody began to talk at once.

"I say!" said Archie. "I say! One moment!"

Of the first stages of this interesting episode Archie had been a paralysed spectator. The thing had numbed him. And then—

When he reached the gesticulating group, he was calm and business-like. He had a constructive policy to suggest.

"I say," he said. "I've got an idea!"

"Go away!" said Mr. Brewster. "This is bad enough without you butting in."

Archie quelled him with a gesture.

"Leave us," he said. "We would be alone. I want to have a little business-talk with Mr. Gossett." He turned to the movie-magnate, who was gradually emerging from the fruit-salad rather after the manner of a stout Venus rising from the sea. "Can you spare me a moment of your valuable time?"

"I'll have him arrested!"

"Don't you do it, laddie. Listen!"

"The man's mad. Throwing pies!"

Archie attached himself to his coat-button.

"Be calm, laddie. Calm and reasonable!"

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224 For the first time Mr. Gossett seemed to become aware that what he had been looking on as a vague annoyance was really an individual.

"Who the devil are you?"

Archie drew himself up with dignity.

"I am this gentleman's representative," he replied, indicating the Sausage Chappie with a motion of the hand. "His jolly old personal representative. I act for him. And on his behalf I have a pretty ripe proposition to lay before you. Reflect, dear old bean," he proceeded earnestly. "Are you going to let this chance slip? The opportunity of a lifetime which will not occur again. By Jove, you ought to rise up and embrace this bird. You ought to clasp the chappie to your bosom! He has thrown pies at you, hasn't he? Very well. You are a movie-magnate. Your whole fortune is founded on chappies who throw pies. You probably scour the world for chappies who throw pies. Yet, when one comes right to you without any fuss or trouble and demonstrates before your very eyes the fact that he is without a peer as a pie-propeller, you get the wind up and talk about having him arrested. Consider! (There's a bit of cherry just behind your left ear.) Be sensible. Why let your personal feeling stand in the way of doing yourself a bit of good? Give this chappie a job and give it him quick, or we go elsewhere. Did you ever see Fatty Arbuckle handle pastry with a surer touch? Has Charlie Chaplin got this fellow's speed and control. Absolutely not. I tell you, old friend, you're in danger of throwing away a good thing!"

He paused. The Sausage Chappie beamed.

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Rh "I've awaysalways [sic] wanted to go into the movies," he said. "I was an actor before the war. Just remembered."

Mr. Brewster attempted to speak. Archie waved him down.

"How many times have I got to tell you not to butt in?" he said, severely.

Mr. Gossett's militant demeanour had become a trifle modified during Archie's harangue. First and foremost a man of business, Mr. Gossett was not insensible to the arguments which had been put forward. He brushed a slice of orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile.

"How do I know this fellow would screen well?" he said, at length.

"Screen well!" cried Archie. "Of course he'll screen well. Look at his face. I ask you! The map! I call your attention to it." He turned apologetically to the Sausage Chappie. "Awfully sorry, old lad, for dwelling on this, but it's business, you know." He turned to Mr. Gossett. "Did you ever see a face like that? Of course not. Why should I, as this gentleman's personal representative, let a face like that go to waste? There's a fortune in it. By Jove, I'll give you two minutes to think the thing over, and, if you don't talk business then, I'll jolly well take my man straight round to Mack Sennett or someone. We don't have to ask for jobs. We consider offers."

There was a silence. And then the clear voice of the child in the sailor suit made itself heard again.

"Mummie!"

"Yes, darling?"

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226 "Is the man with the funny face going to throw any more pies?"

"No, darling."

The child uttered a scream of disappointed fury.

"I want the funny man to throw some more pies! I want the funny man to throw some more pies!"

A look almost of awe came into Mr. Gossett's face. He had heard the voice of the Public. He had felt the beating of the Public's pulse.

"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," he said, picking a piece of banana off his right eyebrow. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings. Come round to my office!"

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text: Indiscretions of Archie/Chapter 20

title: Indiscretions of Archie/Chapter 20


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Page:A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Judges.djvu/39

Rh Minor Judges is almost exactly that of the interregna in the general chronology of the period. The mention of these judges should then be compared with similar antiquarian and genealogical notices in Chronicles. On the other hand, Kuenen, remarking that the characteristic formulas of the Minor Judges stand also at the close of the story of Jephthah (127, cf. also 1520 1 S. 418 715), and rejecting, partly on this ground, Wellhausen's combination of the numbers, is of the opinion that these five judges were included not only in the Deuteronomic Judges, but in its predecessor, and are thus ultimately derived from one of the sources of the latter work. A third hypothesis is that the Minor Judges stood in the pre-Deuteronomic book, were omitted by the Deuteronomic author, like the story of Abimelech and perhaps ch. 17–21, and restored by the editor of the present Book of Judges. Beyond such conjectures we can hardly go.

The two stories with which our Book of Judges ends, that of Micah's idols and the migration of the Danites (ch. 17, 18), and that of the assault on the Levite and his concubine at Gibeah, with its disastrous consequences to the tribe of Benjamin (ch. 19–21), were not included in the Deuteronomic Judges. They relate, not the deliverance of Israel from the foes that oppressed it, by the hand of divinely commissioned champions, but the fortunes of two tribes, one of which was compelled to leave its earliest seats to find a new home in the remote north, while the second was almost exterminated by the righteous indignation of the other Israelites. If the Deuteronomic author had employed these stories, as perhaps he might have done, to illustrate the moral and religious corruption of the times, the natural place for them in


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xxx his book would have been immediately after the introduction; a place which chronological considerations also indicated. There is no evidence, however, in the introductions to these stories, of any intention to use them in this way. The familiar formulas of D are absent, nor is their place taken by others which might be attributed to the same hand. In the narratives themselves there is no trace of a Deuteronomic redaction.

Whether these stories were contained in the older work which the Deuteronomic author used as the basis of his own, we cannot be so sure. There is certainly no mark of the editor's hand upon them, and it is conceivable that they were preserved independently in one of the sources of that collection. This would account both for the resemblance of the stories to those in 26–1631 and for the absence of all traces either of Rje or of D in them. But in ch. 17, 18, two narratives appear to have been combined in much the same way as in ch. 6–8, and we should be inclined to attribute this fusion to the same redactor (Rje). It is quite possible that, as this author's work was considerably more extensive than the Deuteronomic Judges, he may have found place in it for these chapters.

That the two versions of the story of Micah and the Danites (ch. 17, 18) are derived from J and E is a natural conjecture. Budde has noted several words and phrases in one of them which seem to point to E. The whole impression which this strand of the narrative makes would incline me rather to ascribe it to J; decisive evidence is lacking. However that may be, there can be no doubt that the primary version of the story is among the oldest in the book, as it is in many ways one of the most instructive. The second version is apparently younger, but, if I interpret it correctly, there seems to be no reason why it may not come from E. In 1830–31 are two references to historical events: the depopulation of the land (v.30), and the cessation of the temple at Shiloh (v.31). By the former we are probably to understand the


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Rh of the inhabitants of northern Galilee in 734; the date of the latter is unknown. The older narrative in ch. 17, 18, to which 1830 seems to belong, can scarcely be brought down to as late a time as the reign of Tiglathpileser; the words may have been added by an editor.

The problem which is presented to criticism by the narrative of the outrage at Gibeah and the sanguinary vengeance which almost annihilated the tribe of Benjamin is of a different kind from any other in the Book of Judges. At first sight, the narrative seems to be not only entirely unhistorical, but without even a legendary ground—one huge theocratic fiction of very late origin. Closer examination, however, shows that this is a mistake. The basis of the narrative, which can be discovered not only in ch. 19 and 2115ff, but in ch. 20, is a very old story, having an obvious affinity to the primary stratum in ch. 17, 18, and in tone and language resembling the most ancient parts of the Hexateuch and the Books of Samuel. This is overlaid, especially in ch. 20, 211–14, by a stratum akin to the latest additions to the priestly history in the Hexateuch and to the Chronicles. This post-exilic rifacimento is clearly dependent upon the former version; the only question is, whether it once existed separately and was united with the old story by a third hand, or whether it was from the beginning merely a kind of midrash upon the original text, in part exaggerating it, in part substituting an account of the events in accordance with the author's theocratic conception of the ancient history. The latter appears to me the more probable hypothesis; but the other is certainly possible. The primitive story is hardly inferior in age to any in the book, and may be derived from J. The secondary version bears, in conception and expression, all the marks of the extreme decadence of Hebrew literature, and is a product of the 4th century B.C. more probably than of the 5th. If it was interpolated by its author in the earlier narrative, as we find it, it may be the work of the editor who appended chapters 17–21 to the Deuteronomic Judges; on the alternative hypothesis, the same editor may have combined the two versions; but other explanations are also conceivable.


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xxxii The Book of Ruth relates things which happened "in the days when the judges ruled"; in the Greek Bible it immediately follows Judges, and in many early enumerations and catalogues is counted as a part of Judges. Some recent scholars have thought that this was the original place of the book: it was, like ch. 17, 18, and 19–21, an appendix to the Book of Judges proper, ch. 1–16. Ruth is, however, in subject, language, and style, unlike any of the stories in Jud. 1–16, or in 17–21; it is a product of a much later age, and belongs to a wholly different species of literature. As the events narrated in it are supposed to have taken place some half century before the establishment of the kingdom, its natural place in the series of historical books was between Judges and Samuel; or, as falling in the days of the judges, it might be appended to the former book; but this connexion was probably never universal, and may, indeed, have been peculiar to the Greek Bible.

Chapter 11–25 contains an account of the invasion of Western Palestine by the Israelite tribes, and their settlements, particularly enumerating the cities that they did not succeed in conquering, most of which long remained in the possession of the native Canaanite population. This account, which in historical value far surpasses any other source that we possess for this period, is manifestly extracted from an older work, and Schrader, Meyer, and others rightly recognize in it J.'s history of the conquest. The narrative has been considerably abridged by the editor who prefixed it to the pre-Deuteronomic Book of Judges, for the purpose, as we see from his own words in 21b–5a, of showing how Israel sinned in making terms with the people of the land and leaving them to be a constant snare and peril; it has also suffered to some extent from derangement and interpolation, whether by the editor's own hand or that of scribes. Fortunately, the motive of the


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 он этого не знает. I couldn't even imagine that he didn't know it. • to intend. Я предполагаю остаться здесь около шести недель. I intend to stay here for about six weeks.

предположение supposition. это только моё предположение. It's just a supposition on my part.

предположить (-ложу, -ложит; pct of предполагать) to suppose. Предположим, что он опоздает. Что мы тогда будем делать? Let's suppose that he'll be late. What will we do then? — Предположите, что она не согласится, кому же вы это поручите? Suppose she doesn't agree; who can you entrust it to then?

предпоследний next to the last. Сегодня наш предпоследний урок. This is our next to the last lesson.

предпочесть (предпочту, -чтёт; p -чёл, -чла, -о, -и; ppp -чтённый; pct of предпочитать) to prefer. Он предпочёл поехать по железной дороге. Не preferred to go by train.

предпочитать (dur of предпочесть) to prefer. Я предпочитаю с ним не встречаться. I prefer not to meet him.

предпочту See предпочесть.

предприму See предпринять.

предпринимать (dur of предпринять) to undertake. Не предпринимайте ничего, не посоветовавшись с ним. Don't undertake anything without consulting him first.

предпринять (предприму, -примет; p предпринял, -приняла, -приняло, -и; ppp предпринятый, sh F -нята; pct of предпринимать) to do. Я хочу кое-что предпринять по этому делу. There's something I'd like to do with regard to this matter. • to take. Мы уже предприняли кое-какие шаги. We've already taken certain steps.

предприятие plant. Вы уже давно работаете на этом предприятии? Have you been working at this plant for a long time? • undertaking. От вас зависит успех всего предприятия. The success of this undertaking depends on you. — Ну, это рискованное предприятие. Well, it's a risky undertaking.

председатель (M) chairman. Кто председатель сегодняшнего собрания? Who's the chairman of today's meeting? □ председатель Совета народных комиссаров or председатель Совнаркома Chairman of the Council of the People's Commissars.

представитель (M) representative. Он представитель американской фирмы. He's a representative of an American firm. • delegate. Мы послали своих представителей на этот съезд. We sent delegates to this convention.

представить (pct of представлять) to submit. Представьте директору список рабочих и служащих. Submit the list of workers and clerks to the director. • to present. Представьте ваши документы. Present your credentials. — Он представил веские доказательства. He presented strong arguments. — В заключение молодёжь представила забавную пьеску. At the end the young people presented an amusing little sketch. • to introduce. Разрешите представить вам моего друга. May I introduce my friend? • to imagine. Не могу себе представить, куда я девал эту бумагу. I can't imagine where I put that paper. • to recommend. Его представили к ордену. He was recommended for a decoration. □ Это не представит для нас особых затруднений. This won't cause us too much trouble. • Представьте себе, кого я вчера встретил! Guess who I met yesterday.

представление performance. Первое представление этой пьесы прошло с большим успехом. The first performance of the play went over with great success. • idea. Я не имею об этом ни малейшего представления. I don't have the slightest idea about it.

представлять (dur of представить) to imagine. Я себе не представляю, чтобы это могло быть иначе. I can't imagine that it could be otherwise. • to represent. Он представляет наш союз на этом съезде. He's representing our union at this convention. □ Для меня это представляет известный интерес. This has a certain interest for me. • (no pct) Она ничего из себя не представляет. She doesn't amount to much. • Вы себе всё это совершенно неправильно представляете. You have the wrong idea about it all.

предстоять (-стою, -стоит; dur). □ Мне предстоит очень неприятный вечер. I have a very unpleasant evening ahead of me. • Вам предстоит интересная поездка. You're going to have an interesting trip.

предупредить (ppp -преждённый; pct of предупреждать) to prevent. Мне еле удалось предупредить ссору. I had a tough time preventing the quarrel. — К счастью, удалось предупредить эпидемию. Fortunately we were able to prevent the epidemic. • to let know. Предупредите меня заранее о вашем приезде. Let me know beforehand that you're arriving. • to tell beforehand. Как же это вы меня не предупредили, что вы пригласили гостей? Why didn't you tell me beforehand that you were expecting guests? • to warn. Вы должны были нас об этом предупредить. You should have warned us about it.

предупреждать (dur of предупредить) to look ahead. Не предупреждайте событий. Don't go looking too far ahead! • to give notice. Об увольнении полагается предупреждать за две недели. Two weeks' notice is usually given before dismissal.

предупрежу See предупредить.

предусматривать (dur of предусмотреть) to provide for. Договор этого не предусматривает. The agreement doesn't provide for it.

предусмотреть (-смотрю, -смотрит; pct of предусматривать) to foresee. Трудно всё предусмотреть. It's difficult to foresee everything.

предъявить (-явлю, -явит; pct of предъявлять) to show. Предъявите пропуск. Show your pass.

предъявлять (dur of предъявить) to present. Тут документов предъявлять не надо. You don't have to present any papers here.

предыдущий previous. Об этом я вам говорил на предыдущем уроке. I spoke to you about this at the previous lesson. □ Вы этого не поймёте, если не знаете всего предыдущего. If you don't know everything that took place before, you won't understand it.

прежде before. Прежде он бывал у нас очень часто. He used to visit us very often before. — Я там был прежде всех. I was there before anybody else. • in the past. Прежде тут бывало больше народа. This place used to be more popular in the past. • first. Прежде всего расскажите мне о его здоровье. First of all tell me about his health. □ У них всё как прежде. Everything there is the same as it was.


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 "You will not do better. I was ready—I will be ready whenever you come to yourself; but until then you must pursue your own course." This attitude has often to be taken; but it usually proves a summons to a more energetic spirit, producing nobler effort in great matters, just as the notice to quit arouses resolution and self-denial in pecuniary concerns.

Coming together so much as we do for business with mutual duties, for recreation with common joy, each separate want or fault having been dealt with as it arose, it will be readily understood that in such a crisis as that which periodically occurs in the East End of London, instead of being unprepared, I feel myself somewhat like an officer at the head of a well-controlled little regiment, or, more accurately, like a country proprietor with a moderate number of well-ordered tenants.

For, firstly, my people are numbered; not merely counted, but known, man, woman, and child. I have seen their self-denying efforts to pay rent in time of trouble, or their reckless extravagance in seasons of abundance; their patient labor, or their failure to use the self-control necessary to the performance of the more remunerative kinds of work; their efforts to keep their children at school, or their selfish, lazy way of living on their children's earnings. Could any one, going suddenly among even so small a number as these thirty-four families—however much penetration and zeal he might possess—know so accurately as I what kind of assistance would be really helpful, and not corrupting? And if positive gifts must be resorted to, who can give them with so little pain to the proud spirit, so little risk of undermining the feeble one, as the friend of old standing?—the friend, moreover, who has rigorously exacted the fulfillment of their duty in punctual payment of rent; towards whom, therefore, they might feel that they had done what they could while strength lasted, and need not surely be ashamed to receive a little bread in time of terrible want?

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 and your small knot of tenants are concerned, but how does it help us to deal with the vast masses of poor in our great towns?" I reply, "Are not the great masses made up of many small knots? Are not the great towns divisible into small districts? Are there not people who would gladly come forward to undertake the systematic supervision of some house or houses, if they could get authority from the owner? And why should there not be some way of registering such supervision, so that, bit by bit, as more volunteers should come forward, the whole metropolis might be mapped out, all the blocks fitting in like little bits of mosaic to form one connected whole?"

The success of the plan does not depend entirely upon the houses being the property of the superintendent. I would urge people, if possible, to purchase the houses of which they undertake the charge; but if they cannot, they may yet do a valuable little bit of work by registering a distinct declaration that they will supervise such and such a house, or row, or street; that if they have to relinquish the work, they will say so; that if it becomes too much for them, they will ask for help; that any one desiring information about the families dwelling in the houses they manage may apply to them.

It is well known that the societies at work among the poor are so numerous, and labor so independently of each other, that, at present, many sets of people may administer relief to a given family in one day, and perhaps not one go near them again for a long interval; yet each society may be quite systematic in its own field of operation. It seems to me, that though each society might like to go its own way (and, perhaps, to supply wants which the house-overseer might think it best to leave unsupplied), they might at least feel it an advantage to know of a recognized authority, from whom particulars could be learned respecting relief already given, and the history of the families in question.

Any persons accustomed to visit among the poor in a large district, would, I believe, when confining themselves

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 that the old command "Judge not" is a divine one, and yet that the distribution of alms irrespective of character is fatal. These difficulties lead to variable action, which is particularly disastrous with the poor. But there are plans which cultivate the qualities wherein they are habitually wanting, namely, self-control, energy, prudence, and industry; and such plans, if we will do our part, may be ready at any moment for even the least deserving, and for those who have fallen lowest.

Further details as to modes of help must vary infinitely with circumstances and character. But I may mention a few laws which become clearer and clearer to me as I work.

It is best strictly to enforce fulfillment of all such duties as payment of rent, etc.

It is far better to give work than either money or goods.

It is most helpful of all to strengthen by sympathy and counsel the energetic effort which shall bear fruit in time to come.

It is essential to remember that each man has his own view of his life, and must be free to fulfill it; that in many ways he is a far better judge of it than we, as he has lived through and felt what we have only seen. Our work is rather to bring him to the point of considering, and to the spirit of judging rightly, than to consider or judge for him.

The poor of London (as of all large towns) need the development of every power which can open to them noble sources of joy.

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 There would be no interference, no entering their rooms uninvited, no offer of money or the necessaries of life. But when occasion presented itself, I should give them any help I could, such as I might offer without insult to other friends—sympathy in their distresses; advice, help, and counsel in their difficulties; introductions that might be of use to them; means of education; visits to the country; a lent book when not able to work; a bunch of flowers brought on purpose; an invitation to any entertainment, in a room built at the back of my own house, which would be likely to give them pleasure. I am convinced that one of the evils of much that is done for the poor springs from the want of delicacy felt, and courtesy shown, towards them, and that we cannot beneficially help them in any spirit different to that, in which we help those who are better off. The help may differ in amount, because their needs are greater. It should not differ in kind.

To sum up: my endeavors in ruling these people should be to maintain perfect strictness in our business relations, perfect respectfulness in our personal relations.

These principles of government and plans of action were not theoretical: they had not been thought out in the study, but had been worked out in the course of practical dealings with individual cases. And though I am able thus to formulate them, I want it understood that they are essentially living, that they are not mere dead rules, but principles the application of which is varying from day to day. I can say, for example, "It is our plan to keep some repairs as employment for men out of work;" but it needs the true instinct to apply this plan beneficially—the time to give the work, its kind, its amount, above all the mode of offering it, have to be felt out fresh on each fresh occasion, and the circumstances and characters vary so that each case is new.

The practical carrying out in Blank Court of these various plans of action involved, as may readily be imagined, a great deal of personal supervision. Hence the "lot o'

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 When we set about our repairs and alterations, there was much that was discouraging. The better class of people in the court were hopeless of any permanent improvement. When one of the tenants of the shops saw that we were sending workmen into the empty rooms, he said considerately, "I'll tell you what it is, Miss, it'll cost you a lot o' money to repair them places, and it's no good. The women's 'eads 'll be druv through the door panels again in no time, and the place is good enough for such cattle as them there." But we were not to be deterred.

On the other hand, we were not to be hurried in our action by threats. These were not wanting. For no sooner did the tenants see the workmen about than they seemed to think that if they only clamored enough they would get their own rooms put to rights. Nothing had been done for years. Now, they thought, was their opportunity. More than one woman locked me in her room with her, the better to rave and storm. She would shake the rent in her pocket to tempt me with the sound of the money, and roar out "that never a farthing of it would she pay till her grate was set," or her floor was mended, as the case might be. Perfect silence would make her voice drop lower and lower, until at last she would stop, wondering that no violent answers were hurled back at her, and a pause would ensue. I felt that promises would be little believed in, and, besides, I wished to feel free to do as much, and only as much, as seemed best to me; so that my plan was to trust to my deeds to speak for themselves, and inspire confidence as time went on. In such a pause, therefore, I once said to a handsome, gypsy-like Irishwoman, "How long have you lived here?" "More than four years," she replied, her voice swelling again at the remembrance of her wrongs; "and always was a good tenant, and paid my way, and never a thing done! And my grate, etc., etc., etc." "And how long have I had the houses?" "Well, I suppose since Monday week," in a gruff but somewhat mollified tone. "Very well, Mrs. L——, just think over quietly

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 simply by proving their character, have been enabled to regain their former stations. One man, twenty years ago, had been a gentleman's servant, had saved money, gone into business, married, failed, and then found himself out of the groove of work. When I made his acquaintance he was earning a miserable pittance for his wife and seven unhealthy children, and all the nine souls were suffering and sinking unknown. After watching and proving him for three years I was able to recommend him to a gentleman in the country, where now the whole family are profiting by having six rooms instead of one, fresh air, and regular wages.

But it is far easier to be helpful than to have patience and self-control sufficient, when the times come, for seeing suffering and not relieving it. And yet the main tone of action must be severe. There is much of rebuke and repression needed, although a deep and silent under-current of sympathy and pity may flow beneath. If the rent is not ready, notice to quit must be served. The money is then almost always paid, when the notice is, of course, withdrawn. Besides this inexorable demand for rent (never to be relaxed without entailing cumulative evil on the defaulter, and setting a bad example, too readily followed by others) there must be a perpetual crusade carried on against small evils—very wearing sometimes. It is necessary to believe that in thus setting in order certain spots on God's earth, still more in presenting to a few of His children a somewhat higher standard of right, we are doing His work, and that he will not permit us to lose sight of His large laws, but will rather make them evident to us through the small details.

The resolution to watch pain which cannot be radically relieved except by the sufferer himself is most difficult to maintain. Yet it is wholly necessary in certain cases not to help. Where a man persistently refuses to exert himself, external help is worse than useless. By withholding gifts we say to him in action more mournful than words:

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 But it ought hardly ever to come to an actual doling out of bread or alms of any kind. During the winter of 1867–68, while the newspapers were ringing with appeals in consequence of the distress prevalent in the metropolis, being on the Continent, and unable to organize more satisfactory schemes of assistance, I wrote to the ladies who were superintending the houses for me, to suggest that a small fund (which had accumulated from the rents, after defraying expenses and paying interest) should be distributed in gifts to any of the families who might be in great poverty. The answer was that there were none requiring such help. Now, how did this come to pass?

Simply through the operation of the various influences above described. The tenants never having been allowed to involve themselves in debt for rent (now and then being supplied with employment to enable them to pay it), they were free from one of the greatest drags upon a poor family, and had, moreover, in times of prosperity been able really to save. It is but too often the case that, even when prosperous times come, working people cannot lay by, because then they have to pay off arrears of rent. The elder girls, too, were either in service or quite ready to go; and so steady, tidy, and respectable as to be able to fill good situations. This was owing, in many cases, to a word or two spoken long before, urging their longer attendance at school, or to their having had a few happy and innocent amusements provided for them, which had satisfied their natural craving for recreation, and had prevented their breaking loose in search of it. Health had been secured by an abundance of air, light, and water. Even among this very lowest class of people, I had found individuals whom I could draft from my lodging-houses into resident situations (transplanting them thus at once into a higher grade), simply because I was able to say, "I know them to be honest, I know them to be clean." Think of what this mere fact of being known is to the poor!

You may say, perhaps, "This is very well as far as you

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 to a much smaller one, be led, if not to very unexpected conclusions, at least to very curious problems. In dealing with a large number of cases the urgency is so great, one passes over the most difficult questions to work where sight is clear; and one is apt to forget Sissy Jupe's quick sympathetic perception that percentage signifies literally nothing to the friends of the special sufferer, who surely is not worth less than a sparrow. The individual case, if we cared enough for it, would often give us the key to many.

Whoever will limit his gaze to a few persons, and try to solve the problems of their lives—planning, for instance, definitely, how he, even with superior advantages of education, self-control, and knowledge, could bring up a given family on given wages, allowing the smallest amount conceivably sufficient for food, rent, clothes, fuel, and the rest—he may find it in most cases a much more difficult thing than he had ever thought, and sometimes may be an impossibility. It may lead to strange self-questioning about wages. Again, if people will watch carefully the different effect of self-help and of alms, how the latter, like the outdoor relief system under the old Poor-Law, tends to lower wages, undermines the providence of the poor, it may make them put some searching questions to themselves upon the wisdom of backing up wages with gifts. Then they may begin to consider practically whether in their own small sphere they can form no schemes of help, which shall be life-giving, stimulating hope, energy, foresight, self-denial, and choice of right rather than wrong expenditure.

They may earnestly strive to discover plans of help which shall free them from the oppressive responsibility of deciding whether aid is deserved—a question often complicated inextricably with another, namely, whether at a given moment there is a probability of reformation. All of us have felt the impossibility of deciding either question fairly, yet we have been convinced that gifts coming at the wrong time are often deadly. Earnest workers feel a heavy weight on their hearts and consciences from the conviction

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 landladies" which excited the attention of the street boys. Several ladies, whether owners of houses or not, have worked there energetically with me since the property was bought; and when I use the word "we," I would have it understood to apply to these ladies and myself: it is often upon them that much of the detail of the work devolves.

But to proceed with the history of Blank Court. Our first step on obtaining possession was to call on all the inhabitants to establish our claim to receive rents. We accepted or refused the people as tenants, made their acquaintance, and learnt all they might be disposed to tell us about themselves and their families. We came upon strange scenes sometimes. In one room a handsome, black, tangle-haired, ragged boy and girl, of about nine and ten, with wild dark eyes, were always to be found, sometimes squatting near the fire, watching a great black pot, sometimes amusing themselves with cutting paper into strips with scissors. It was difficult to extract a word: the money and dirty rent-book were generally pushed to us in silence. No grown person was ever to be seen. For months I never saw these children in the open air. Often they would lie in bed all day long; and I believe they were too ignorant and indolent to care to leave the house except at night, when the boy, as we afterwards found, would creep like a cat along the roofs of the outbuildings to steal lumps of coal from a neighboring shed.

At one room we had to call again and again, always finding the door locked. At last, after weeks of vain effort, I found the woman who owned the room at home. She was sitting on the floor at tea with another woman, the tea being served on an inverted hamper. I sat down on an opposite hamper, which was the only other piece of furniture in the room, and told her I was sorry that I had never been able to make her acquaintance before. To which she replied, with rather a grand air and a merry twinkle in her eye, that she had been "unavoidably absent:" in other words, some weeks in prison,—not a rare occurrence for her.

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 what has been done in the houses since then; and if you like to leave and think you can suit yourself better, I am glad you should make yourself comfortable. Meantime, of course, while you stay, you pay rent. I will call for it this evening if it doesn't suit you to pay now. Good morning."

Almost immediately after the purchase of the houses, we had the accumulated refuse of years carted away, the pavement in the yards and front areas were repaired, dustbins cleared, the drains put in order, and water supplied. Such improvements as these are tolerably unspoilable, but for any of a more destructible nature it was better to wait. The importance of advancing slowly, and of gaining some hold over the people as a necessary accompaniment to any real improvement in their dwellings, was perpetually apparent. Their habits were so degraded that we had to work a change in these before they would make any proper use of the improved surroundings we were prepared to give them. We had locks torn off, windows broken, drains stopped, dustbins misused in every possible manner, even pipes broken, and water-taps wrenched away. This was sometimes the result of carelessness, and deeply-rooted habit of dirt and untidiness; sometimes the damage was willful. Our remedy was to watch the right moment for furnishing these appliances, to persevere in supplying them, and to get the people by degrees to work with us for their preservation. I have learned to know that people are ashamed to abuse a place they find cared for. They will add dirt to dirt till a place is pestilential, but the more they find done for it, the more they will respect it, till at last order and cleanliness prevail. It is this feeling of theirs, coupled with the fact that they do not like those whom they have learned to love, and whose standard is higher than their own, to see things which would grieve them, which has enabled us to accomplish nearly every reform of outward things that we have achieved; so that the surest way to have any place kept clean is to go through it often yourself. First I go at

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2 Succinct sketch of the Aboriginal language, by the late Wm. Thomas, Esq., Guardian of Aborigines. Language of the Aborigines of the Colony of Victoria (arranged anew), by the late Daniel Bunce, Esq. Dialect of the Ja-jow-er-ong race, by Joseph Parker, Esq. Words in the dialects of the natives of Geelong, Colac, Goulburn, Murray, and Campaspe, and in those of the Witouro, Jajowrong, Knenkoren-wurro, Burapper, and Ta-oungurong tribes. Native names of trees, shrubs, plants, &c. Native names of localities in Victoria, by the Local Guardians of Aborigines. Native names of localities in Victoria, from papers furnished by the Surveyor-General of the colony. Native names of several hills, rivers, &c., by the late C. J. Tyers, Esq., 1840.

Native names of places in Victoria, by Gideon S. Lang, Esq.

Native words and names, Kerang, Lower Loddon, by H. Taverner, Esq.

A list of words compiled by Henry J. Withers, Esq., Berrembeel, Wagga Wagga, New South Wales.

 The papers contributed by the Rev. John Bulmer, of Lake Tyers in Gippsland, the Rev. A. Hartmann and the Rev. F. W. Spieseke, of Lake Hindmarsh, Mr. Joseph Parker, of the Loddon, and the Rev. F. A. Hagenauer, of Lake Wellington in Gippsland, are of great value. I obtained from some of these gentlemen short stories and phrases in the native tongue, written down exactly as the natives speak, with the corresponding English words below; and I believe these will assist the philologist more than if I had given merely statements and opinions relative to the grammar and structure of the language.

The sounds of the letters that are used in writing English do not convey the sounds of the words of the native tongue. It is often impossible to write down correctly any word beginning with B. It is frequently sounded like P. Boorp (Loddon) is written Poorp (Lower Murray), and Baramul is in like manner written Paramul. D is so sounded as to perplex the enquirer. One word will suffice to show this:—

D has its proper sound in such words as Bidderup (dead), Turdenden (new), Urdin (straight), &c.

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Rh An examination of the words in the vocabularies shows that there are numerous equally remarkable dialectical transitions of consonants.

H is sounded clearly and sharply at the end of a word, often like R, as in Lah and Lar (a stone), and Wah and War (a crow).

In such words as Korak, Drae, and Merang, the sound of R is rough, rolling, and strong.

Ng has a nasal sound, which it is not easy for Europeans to imitate.

There are no sibilants in the native tongue; no articles; and, it is supposed, no distinctions in gender (with certain exceptions noticed by Mr. [[Author:Lancelot Edward Threlkeld|Threlkeld.

There are dual forms of speech.

There are interrogative pronouns.

The plural is usually formed by placing a numeral before the substantive, the substantive not changing its form except for euphony. This, however, is not the rule in all dialects.

The numerals are "one" and "two," other numbers being expressed by combinations of the words expressing "one" and "two;" but this rule again is not of universal application. In some dialects it is said that there are distinct and separate words for "three," " five," and " seven."

Suffixes are used.

There are no terms to express abstract ideas.

A great many words are onomatopœic in their origin.

Sign-language is used.

Words originating in sounds which the words themselves are intended to imitate are probably very numerous in all the languages and dialects, but the changes which the several tongues have undergone during a long lapse of time may prevent the discovery of the origin of many of these roots.

A few words which are undoubtedly onomatopœic will suffice to show that a thorough examination of the Australian languages would result in valuable acquisitions to philology:—

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The Astral Plane

THE ASTRAL PLANE

It's Scenery, Inhabitants and Phenomena

Theosophical Manual No. 5

THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE

Adyar, Madras, India

 * Preface
 * Chapter I: A General Survey
 * Chapter II: Scenery
 * Chapter III: Inhabitants
 * Part I: Human
 * Part II: Non-Human
 * Part III: Artificial
 * Chapter IV: Phenomena
 * Chapter V: Conclusion

title: The Astral Plane


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The Astral Plane/Preface

PREFACE Few words are needed in sending this little book out into the world. It is the fifth of a series of Manuals designed to meet the public demand for a simple exposition of Theosophical teachings. Some have complained that our literature is at once too abstruse, too technical, and too expensive for the ordinary reader, and it is our hope that the present series may succeed in supplying what is a very real want. Theosophy is not only for the learned; it is for all. Perhaps among those who in these little books catch their first glimpse of its teachings, there may be a few who will be led by them to penetrate more deeply into its philosophy, its science, and its religion, facing its abstruser problems with the student's zeal and the neophyte's ardour. But these Manuals are not written only for the eager student, whom no initial difficulties can daunt; they are written for the busy men and women of the work-a-day world, and seek to make plain some of the great truths that render life easier to bear and death easier to face. Written by servants of the Masters who are the Elder Brothers of our race, they can have no other object than to serve our fellow-men. ANNIE BESANT

title: The Astral Plane/Preface


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The Astral Plane/Chapter I

A GENERAL SURVEY

THOUGH for the most part entirely unconscious of it, man passes the whole of his life in the midst of a vast and populous unseen world. During sleep or in trance, when the insistent physical senses are for the time in abeyance, this other world is to some extent open to him, and he will sometimes bring back from those conditions more or less vague memories of what he has seen and heard there. When, at the change which men call death, he lays aside his physical body altogether, it is into this unseen world that he passes, and in it he lives through the long centuries that intervene between his incarnation into this existence that we know. By far the greater part of these long periods is spent in the heaven-world, to which the sixth of these manuals is devoted; but what we have now to consider is the lower part of this unseen world, the state into which man enters immediately after death — like Hades or underworld of the Greeks, the purgatory or intermediate state of Christianity, which was called by mediaeval alchemists the astral plane. The object of this manual is to collect and arrange the information with regard to this interesting region which is scattered through Theosophical literature, and also to supplement it slightly in cases where new facts have come to our knowledge. It must be understood that any such additions are only the result of the investigations of a few explorers, and must not, therefore, be taken as in any way authoritative, but are given simply for what they are worth. On the other hand, every precaution in our power has been taken to ensure accuracy; no fact, old or new, being admitted to this manual unless it has been confirmed by the testimony of at least two independent trained investigators among ourselves, and has also been passed as correct by older students whose knowledge on these points is necessarily much greater than ours. It is hoped, therefore, that this account of the astral plane, though it cannot be considered as quite complete, may yet be found reliable as far as it goes.

(Thus I wrote some forty years ago in the first edition of this book; now I may add that daily experience during the whole of that time has but confirmed the accuracy of last century's investigations. Much that was then still somewhat strange and novel has now become familiar through constant and intimate acquaintance, and a mass of additional evidence has been accumulated; here and there there may be a few words to add; there is practically nothing to alter.) The first point which it is necessary to make clear in describing this astral plane is its absolute reality. In using that word I am not speaking from that metaphysical standpoint from which all but the One Unmanifested is unreal because impermanent; I am using the word in its plain, everyday sense, and I mean by it that the objects and inhabitants of the astral plane are real in exactly the same way as our own bodies, our furniture, our houses or monuments are real - as real as Charing Cross, to quote an expressive remark from one of the earliest Theosophical works. They will no more endure for ever than will objects on the physical plane, but they are nevertheless realities from our point of view while they last — realities which we cannot afford to ignore merely because the majority of mankind is as yet unconscious, or but vaguely conscious, of their existence. I know how difficult it is for the average mind to grasp the reality of that which we cannot see with our physical eyes. It is hard for us to realize how partial our sight is — to understand that we are all the time living in a vast world of which we see only a tiny part. Yet science tells us with no uncertain voice that this is so, for it describes to us whole worlds of minute life of whose existence we are entirely ignorant as far as our senses are concerned. Nor are the creatures of these worlds unimportant because minute, for upon a knowledge of the habits and condition of some of those microbes depends our ability to preserve health, and in many cases life itself. In another direction also our senses are limited. We cannot see the very air that surrounds us; our senses give us no indication of its existence, except that when it is in motion we are aware of it by the sense of touch. Yet in it there is a force that can wreck our mightiest vessels and throw down our strongest buildings. Clearly all about us there are potent forces which yet elude our poor and partial senses; so obviously we must beware of failing into the fatally common error of supposing that what we see is all there is to see. We arc, as it were, shut up in a tower, and our senses are tiny windows opening out in certain directions. In many other directions we are entirely shut in, but clairvoyance or astral sight opens for us one or two additional windows, and so enlarges our prospect, and spreads before us a new and wider world, which is yet part of the old world, though before we did not know it. No one can obtain a clear conception of the teachings of the Wisdom-religion until he has at any rate an intellectual grasp of the fact that in our solar system there exist perfectly definite planes, each with its own matter of different degrees of density. Some of these planes can be visited and observed by persons who have qualified themselves for the work, exactly as a foreign country might be visited and observed; and, by comparing the observations of those who are constantly working on these planes, evidence can be obtained of their existence and nature at least as satisfactory as that which most of us have for the existence of Greenland or Spitzbergen. Furthermore, just as any man who has the means and chooses to take the trouble can go and see Greenland or Spitzbergen for himself, so any man who chooses to take the trouble to qualify himself by living the necessary life, can in time come to see these higher planes on his own account. The names usually given to these planes, taking them in order of materiality, rising from the denser to the finer, are the physical, the astral, the mental, the buddhic, and the nirvanic. Higher than this last are two others, but they are so far above our present power of conception that for the moment they may be left out of consideration. It should be understood that the matter of each of these planes differs from that of the plane below it in the same way as, though to a much greater degree than, vapour differs from solid matter; in fact, the states of matter which we call solid, liquid, and gaseous are merely the three lower sub-divisions of the matter belonging to this one physical plane. The astral region which I am to attempt to describe is the second of these great planes of Nature — the next above (or within) that physical world with which we are all familiar. It has often been called the realm of illusion — not that it is itself any more illusory than the physical world, but because of the extreme unreliability of the impressions brought back from it by the untrained seer. Why should this be so? We account for it mainly by two remarkable characteristics of the astral world — first, that many of its inhabitants have a marvellous power of changing their forms with protean rapidity, and also of casting practically unlimited glamour over those with whom they choose to sport; and secondly, that sight on that plane is a faculty different from and much more extended than physical vision. An object is seen, as it were, from all sides at once, the inside of a solid being as plainly open to the view as the outside; it is therefore obvious that an inexperienced visitor to this new world may well find considerable difficulty in understanding what he really does see, and still more in translating his vision into the inadequate language of ordinary speech. A good example of the sort of mistake that is likely to occur is the frequent reversal of any number which the seer has to read in the astral world, so that he would be liable to render, say, 139 as 931, and so on. In the case of a student of occultism trained by a capable Master such a mistake would be impossible except through great hurry or carelessness, since such a pupil has to go through a long and varied course of instruction in this art of seeing correctly. The Master, or perhaps some more advanced pupil, brings before him again and again all possible forms of illusion, and asks him "What do you see?" Any errors in his answers are then corrected and their reasons explained, until by degrees the neophyte acquires a certainty and confidence in dealing with the phenomena of the astral plane which far exceeds anything possible in physical life. He has to learn not only to see correctly but to translate accurately, from one plane to the other, the memory of what he has seen. To assist him in this he has eventually to learn to carry his consciousness without break from the physical plane to the astral or mental and back again, for until that can be done there is always a possibility that his recollections may be partially lost or distorted during the blank interval which separates his periods of consciousness on the various planes. When the power of bringing over the consciousness is perfectly acquired the pupil will have the advantage of the use of all the astral faculties, not only while out of his body during sleep or trance, but also while fully awake in ordinary physical life. It has been the custom of some Theosophists to speak with scorn of the astral plane, and treat it as entirely unworthy of attention; but that seems to me a mistaken view. Assuredly, that at which we have to aim is the life of the spirit, and it would be disastrous for any student to neglect that higher development and rest satisfied with the attainment of astral consciousness. There have been some whose karma was such as to enable them to develop the higher mental faculties first of all — to overleap the astral plane for the time, as it were; but this is not the ordinary method adopted by the Masters of the Wisdom with their pupils. Where it is possible it no doubt saves trouble, for the higher usually includes the lower; but for most of us such progress by leaps and bounds has been forbidden by our own faults or follies in the past; all that we can hope for is to win our way slowly step by step, and since this astral plane lies next to our world of denser matter, it is generally in connection with it that our earliest super-physical experiences take place. It is therefore of deep interest to those of us who are but beginners in these studies, and a clear comprehension of its mysteries may often be of great importance to us, by enabling us not only to understand many of the phenomena of the seance-room, of haunted houses, etc., which would otherwise be inexplicable, but also to guard ourselves and others from possible dangers. The first conscious introduction to this remarkable region comes to people in various ways. Some only once in their whole lives under some unusual influence become sensitive enough to recognize the presence of one of its inhabitants, and perhaps, because the experience does not repeat itself, they may come in time to believe that on that occasion they must have been the victims of hallucination. Others find themselves with increasing frequency seeing and hearing something to which those around them are blind and deaf; others again — and perhaps this is the commonest experience of all — begin to recollect with greater and greater clearness that which they have seen or heard on that other plane during sleep. It must be understood that the power of objective perception upon all the planes undoubtedly lies latent in every man, but for most of us it will be a matter of long and slow evolution before our consciousness can fully function in those higher vehicles. With regard to the astral body the matter is, however, somewhat different, for in the case of all the cultured people belonging to the more advanced races of the world, the consciousness is already perfectly capable not only of responding to all vibrations communicated to it through astral matter, but also of using its astral body definitely as a vehicle and instrument. Most of us, then, are awake on the astral plane during the sleep of the physical body, and yet we are generally very little awake to the plane, and are consequently conscious of our surroundings there only vaguely, if at all. We are still wrapped up in our waking thoughts and our physical-plane affairs, and we pay scarcely any attention to the world of intensely active life that surrounds us. Our first step, then, is to shake off this habit of thought, and learn to see that new and beautiful world, so that we may be able intelligently to work in it. Even when that is achieved, it does not necessarily follow that we shall be able to bring over into our waking consciousness any recollection of those astral experiences. But that question of physical-plane remembrance is an entirely different matter, and does not in any way affect our power to do excellent astral work. Among those who make a study of these subjects, some try to develop the astral sight by crystal-gazing or other methods, while those who have the inestimable advantage of the direct guidance of a qualified teacher will probably be aroused to full consciousness upon that plane for the first time under his special protection, which will be continued until, by the application of various tests, he has satisfied himself that each pupil is proof against any danger or terror that he is likely to encounter. But however it may occur, the first actual realization that we are all the while in the midst of a great world full of active life, of which most of us are nevertheless entirely unconscious, cannot but be a memorable epoch in a man's existence. So abundant and so manifold is this life of the astral plane that at first it is absolutely bewildering to the neophyte; and even for the more practised investigator it is no easy task to attempt to classify and to catalogue it. If the explorer of some unknown tropical forest were asked not only to give a full account of the country through which he has passed, with accurate details of its vegetable and mineral productions, but also to state the genus and species of every one of the myriad insects, birds, beasts, and reptiles which he had seen, he might well shrink appalled at the magnitude of the undertaking. Yet even this affords no parallel to the embarrassments of the psychic investigator, for in his case matters are further complicated, first by the difficulty of correctly translating from that plane to this the recollection of what he has seen, and secondly by the utter inadequacy of ordinary language to express much of what he has to report.

However, just as the explorer on the physical plane would probably commence his account of a country by some sort of general description of its scenery and characteristics, so it will be well to begin this slight sketch of the astral plane by endeavouring to give some idea of the scenery which forms the background of its marvellous and ever-changing activities. Yet here at the outset an almost insuperable difficulty confronts us in the extreme complexity of the matter. All who see fully on that plane agree that to attempt to call up a vivid picture of this astral scenery before those whose eyes are as yet unopened is like speaking to a blind man of the exquisite variety of tints in a sunset sky — however detailed and elaborate the description may be, there is no certainty that the idea presented before the hearer's mind be an adequate representation of the truth.

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286

King "Rory," an old chief of the Wailwun (Wile-one) tribe, on the Barwan, near the junction of the Namoi, gave me the following account of stars:—

Thee Northern Crown is "Mullion wollai," the eagle's-nest ("wollai" means "camp"). The several stars in the Crown are the young eagles. When this constellation is on the meridian, Vega rises, and shortly before it Altair. These are the two old eagles springing up to watch their nest. It was a startling word of the old chief when Altair (in Aquila) appeared, to hear the name "Mullion."

Arcturus they call "Guembila" (red); Canopus is "Wumba" (deaf); Benemasch, and the next star in the tail of the Great Bear—the only bright stars of that constellation visible in this latitude, which rise about N.N.E., and set N.N.W., never rising high, but moving, as it were, under the branches of the high trees—they call "Ngūng-gū" (white owls).

The Milky Way they call Warrambool, that is a strip of land abounding in fine trees and shrubs, with a stream of water running through it—the home or promenade of the blessed dead. The Pleiades are Worrul (bees'-nest); Bungula and Agenor, Murrai (cockatoos); the Southern Cross, Ngūǔ (tea-tree); the dark space under the Cross, Gao-ergi (emu); Magellan Clouds, Bǔralga (native companions); Antares, Guddar (lizard); two stars across the Milky Way, near Scorpio, Gijeri-gā (small green parrots); a dark space near them, Wurrawilbǔrū (demon, or ghost); the "S"-shaped line of stars in Serpentarius between the Northern Crown and Scorpio, Mundēwur (notches cut on a tree to climb up); Spica Virginis, Gūriē (small crested parrot); Fomalhaut, Gānī (small iguana); Corvus (4), Bundar (kangaroo); star in Peacock's Head, Murgu (night cuckoo); Venus, Ngindigindōer (you are laughing); Mars, Gumba (fat); Saturn, Wungal (a small bird).

A social classification, carried out by means of family names, and embracing every human being of the race, is known to exist all over the tributaries of the Darling, including the Balonne and the Maranoa, and over the Wide Bay district of Queensland. This classification is the basis of strict laws of marriage and descent. The same class-names are in use among tribes speaking different dialects, and the system is known to be established even beyond the extent over which the same names are used. Among the Kamilaroi, Wolaroi, Wiradhurri, Wailwun, and Pickumbul tribes, the class-names are, for men, Ippai, Murri, Kubbi, and Kumbo; for women, their sisters, Ippāthā, Mātka, Kubbothā, and Būta (or Būdha). Besides these, they have other class-names, derived from animals, which also come by inheritance. The mother's name determines that of the child, and generally, not always, the child's class-name may be known from the father's. This will be seen by the subjoined rules. Besides the names that come to them by birth, the Aborigines have other distinctive names, commonly taken from some personal characteristic, as long-

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 прежний former. Прежний директор был лучше. The former manager was better. □ в прежнее время in the past. В прежнее время у нас в деревне школы не было. We had no school in our village in the past.

президиум presidium. Он — член президиума Верховного Совета СССР. He's a member of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. (See Appendix 2.) □ Кто сегодня в призидиуме? Who are the officers of today's meeting? • Его посадили за стол президиума. He was seated with the officers of the meeting.

презирать (dur) to have contempt for. Я этого человека глубоко презираю. I have nothing but contempt for this man. • to despise. Этого предателя все презирают. Everybody despises this traitor.

прекрасный beautiful. Какой прекрасный вид из этого окна! What a beautiful view you get from this window! • excellent. У него прекрасный апетит. He has an excellent appetite. — Он написал прекрасную книгу. He's written an excellent book. • fine. В одно прекрасное утро они к нам явились. One fine morning they dropped in on us. — Он прекрасный врач. He's a fine doctor. □ прекрасно perfectly. Он это прекрасно понимает. He understands this perfectly. • very well. Она прекрасно поёт. She sings very well. — Прекрасно, я это приму к сведению. Very well, I'll keep it in mind. • fine. Прекрасно. Я очень рад. Fine, I'm very glad.

прекратить (-кращу, -кратит; pct of прекращать) to stop. Пожалуйста, прекратите разговоры! Please stop talking! — Предлагаю прекратить прения. I move we stop the discussion. • to discontinue. Мне пришлось прекратить занятия из-за войны. I had to discontinue my studies because of the war.

-ся to cease. Сейчас у меня боли прекратились. My pains have ceased now. • to stop. Прекратится когда-нибудь этот шум? Will this noise ever stop?

прекращать (dur of прекатить) to stop. Все эти годы мы не прекращали нашей переписки. We haven't stopped writing to each other all these years.

-ся to end. В оттепель сообщение с городом почти прекращается. During the spring thaws, all communication with the city practically ends.

прекращу See прекратить.

прелестный ([-sn-]) charming. Это прелестный мотив. It's a charming melody. • cute. Какой прелестный ребёнок! Whate a cute child! □ прелестно charmingly. Она прелестно танцует. She dances charmingly.

премировать (both dur and pct) to give a prize. За ударную работу его премировали золотыми часами. He was given a gold watch as a prize for his top-notch work.

премия prize. Он получил Нобелевскую Премию. He received the Nobel Prize. • award. Рабочим нашего завода была выдана премия за перевыполнение плана. The workers of our factory were given an award for exceeding the quota of the plan.

пренебрегать (dur of пренебречь) to pass up. На вашем месте я бы не стал пренебрегать этой возможностью. I wouldn't pass up such an opportunity if I were you.

пренебрегу See пренебречь.

пренебрежёшь See пренебречь.

пренебречь (-брегу, -брежёт; p -брег, -брегла, о, -и; pct of пренебрегать) to disregard. Вы напрасно пренебрегли его советом. You were wrong in disregarding his advice.

прение. □ прения discussion. После доклада состоялись оживлённые прения. After the report there was lively discussion.

преобладать (dur) to predominate. В его последних картинах преобладают яркие краски. Bright colors predominate in his latest paintings. □ На пашем заводе преобладает молодёжь. There are mostly young people at our factory.

преодолевать (-ваю, -вает; dur of преодолеть) to overcome. Не легко было преодолевать все эти препятствия. It was not easy to overcome all these obstacles.

преодолеть (ppp -долённый; pct of преодолевать) to get over. Вы должны преодолеть свою нерешительность. You've got to get over your inability to make up your mind. • to overcome. Я надеюсь, что нам удастся преодолеть их сопротивление. I hope we'll be able to overcome their resistance.

преподавать (-даю, -даёт; imv -давай; prger -давая; dur) to teach. Кто у вас преподаёт русский язык? Who teaches Russian here?

препятствие obstacle. Эти препятствия меня не пугают. These obstacles don't frighten me. • hurdle. Лошадь легко взяла первое препятствие. The horse took the first hurdle easily. □ скачки с препятствиями steeplechase. Он взял приз на скачках с препятствиями. He won a prize in a steeplechase. • obstacle race. *Ну, это не работа, а какая-то скачка с препятствиями. It's not a job; it's an obstacle race.

препятствовать (dur) to stand in one's way. Он с этим не согласен, но препятствовать вам не будет. He doesn't agree with this, but he won't stand in your way. • to prevent. Недостаток сырья препятствует нормальной работе завода. The shortage of raw materials prevents the work at our plant from running normally.

прервать (-рву, -рвёт; p -рвала; прервался, -рвалась, -рвалось, -рвались; ppp прерванный, sh F -рвана; pct of прерывать) to interrupt. Придётся прервать заседание. We'll have to interrupt the meeting. • to cut. Телефонное сообщение с городом прервано. Telephone connections with the city have been cut. • to sever. Я давно уже прервал с нами всякую связь. I severed all connections with them a long time ago. • to cut short. Он меня резко прервал и переменил тему. He cut me short and changed the subject.

прерывать (dur of прервать) to interrupt. Не прерывайте, пожалуйста, работы из-за меня. Please don't interrupt your work because of me.

пресса press. Он внимательно следит за советской прессой. He follows the Soviet press very closely.

преступление crime. Кто совершил это преступление? Who committed this crime? — С такими способностями да не учиться музыке — это преступление! With such talent it's a crime not to study music. □ Вора поймали на месте преступления. The thief was caught red-handed.

преступник criminal M.

преступница criminal F.

преувеличивать (dur of преувеличить) to exaggerate. Мне кажется, что вы несколько преувеличиваете. I think you're exaggerating a bit.

преувеличить (pct of преувеличивать) to exaggerate. Вы


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Rh arm, short-leg, sharp-eye. Murri (Murry) is the name of the race—meaning Australian Aboriginal. Murri (Murree) is the most important of the four classes.

A man may have many wives of the names that are legally open to him, if he has the art or force to get them. But if he attempts to take one whose name is not allowed to one bearing his name in these rules, the tribe will kill him, or at least attack him with deadly purpose. The law is sacred; curses and spears fall upon him who dares to violate it.

From the above rules, it follows that generally the children of Kumbo are Kubbi and Kubbotha; those of Murri are Ippai and Ippatha; those of Kubbi are Kumbo and Budha; those of Ippai are Murri and Matha. But if Kumbo, instead of marrying a Matha, takes a Budha (with a different totem), his children are Ippai and Ippatha; and if Murri, instead of marrying a Budha, takes a Matha (with a different totem), his children are Kubbi and Kubbotha. So, in all cases, the mother's name determines that of the children.

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288 Among the Kogai tribes, west of the Balonne, and also at Wide Bay, Queensland, the feminine names are derived from those of the brothers, by affixing -un or -gun. Thus, among the Kogai, the names (answering to Ippai, &c.) are these:—Obūr, Wungō, Urgilla, Unburri; and their sisters, Oburugun, Wungogun, Urgillagun, Unburrigun. And at Wide Bay the names are Derwun, Bārāng, Bundar, Tandor, Balkoin; and their sisters, Derwungun, Barangun, Bundarun, Tandorun, Balkoingun—the only case I have heard of where there are five names to each sex.

Daiādi is elder brother; Gullami, younger brother. Boadi is elder sister; Buri, younger sister.

Among eight brothers, the first-born has no daiadi, seven gullami; the youngest has seven daiadi and no gullami; the fourth has three daiadi and four gullami.

So the eldest sister among eight has no boadi and seven buri; the third has two boadi, five buri.

Father is Bŭbā, sometimes "Papa."

Mother is Ngumba. But its appellative, used by children in calling on their mothers, is Gunii (pronounced just as γυνμ is pronounced at Oxford).

Most of the languages are named from their negative. Thus in Kamilaroi, "kamil" means "no" or "not;" in Wolaroi, "wol" is "no;" in Wailwun, "wail" is "no;" in Wiradhurri, "wira" is "no." But in Pikumbul "pika" means "yes."

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 сильно преувеличили трудности этого дела. You've greatly exaggerated the difficulties of this matter.

при (/with l/) at. У неё была комната при школе. She roomed at school. — Мы организовали при заводе ясли. We organized a public nursery at our plant. — Предъявляйте билеты при входе. Show your tickets at the door. • on. У меня при себе недостаточно денег. I haven't enough money on me. • with. При нём всегда находится медсестра. There's always a nurse with him. — Я всегда держу документы при себе. I always have my papers with me. — При его содействии мне быстро удалось найти комнату. With his help I found a room in no time. • in front of. Не говорите об этом при нём. Don't mention it in front of him. — Я это готов повторить при свидетелях. I'm ready to repeat this in front of witnesses. • near. Она была при смерти. She was near death. □ При мне во главе этого учреждения стоял другой человек. When I was there, another person was at the head of the institution. • Спросите его об этом при случае. Ask him about it when you get the chance. • Я сделаю это при первой возможности. I'll do it the first chance I get. • При желании это всегда можно сделать. You can always do it if you really want to. • Он состоял при штабе Восьмой Армии. He was attached to the headquarters of the Eighth Army. • При чем же я тут? What have I got to do with it? • *Он остался не при чём. He was left out in the cold.

прибавить (pct of прибавлять) to add. Прибавьте ему сахару в чай. Add some sugar to his tea. — К этому мне нечего прибавить. I have nothing to add to it. □ прибавить в весе to gain weight. За лето он очень прибавил в весе. He gained a lot of weight during the summer. прибавить шагу to step up one's pace. Прибавим шагу, не то опоздаем. We have to step up our pace, or else we'll be late.

прибавлять (dur of прибавить).

прибегать (dur of прибегнуть and прибежать) to come. Она прибегает ко мне каждый день со своими жалобами. She comes to me every day with her complaints. • to resort. Я не люблю прибегать к таким радикальным мерам. I don't like to resort to such drastic measures.

прибегнуть (/p -бег, -бегла/pct of прибегать). □ Нам придётся прибегнуть к его содействию. We'll have to ask him to help us.

прибегу See прибежать.

прибежать (-бегу, -бежит, §27; pct of прибегать) to come running. Он прибежал ко мне рано утром. He came running into me early in the morning. □ Я прибежал на вокзал за минуту до отхода поезда. I got to the station a minute before train time.

прибивать (dur of прибить) to nail on. Мне уж третий раз прибивают этот каблук. This is the third time I've had this heel nailed on.

прибить (-бью, -бьёт; imv -бей; ppp прибитый; pct of бить and прибивать) to put up. Прибейте сюда полочку. Put a shelf up over here. • to toss. Нашу лодку прибило к берегу. Our boat was tossed ashore. • to beat down. На этом поле весь хлеб прибило градом. The hail has beaten down all the wheat in this field.

приближать (dur of приблизить).

-ся to approach. Поезд приближается к станции. The train is approaching the station. • to get close. Приближается день нашего отъезда. The day for us to leave is getting close. □ Наша работа приближается к концу. Our work is drawing to a close.

приближусь See приблизиться.

приблизительный approximate. Приблизительная стоимость этой машины от трёхсот до четырёхсот рублей. The approximate value of this machine is three to four hundred rubles. • rough. Сделайте приблизительный подсчёт. Make up a rough estimate. □ приблизительно approximately. Отсюда до ближайшей станции приблизительно десять километров. It's approximately ten kilometers from here to the next station. • about. Ну, а во что это обойдётся приблизительно? Well, about how much will this cost? • just about. Вот приблизительно всё, что я знаю. That's just about all I know. • by rough count. Поездка обошлась нам приблизительно в тысячу рублей. By rough count the trip cost a thousand rubles.

приблизить (pct of приближать).

-ся to approach. Когда мы приблизились к дому мы увидали у крыльца больше толпу. When we approached the house we saw a large crowd near the stoop.

прибор set. Я вам могу одолжить свой бритвенный прибор. I can lend you my shaving set. • place. На сколько приборов накрыть стол? How many places should I set? • instrument. Химическая лаборатория оборудована новыми приборами. The chemical laboratory is equipped with new instruments. • apparatus. Он делает упражнения на приборах. He does exercises on the (gym) apparatus.

прибуду See прибыть.

прибывать (dur of прибыть) to arrive. Поезда тут обычно прибывают во-время. The trains here usually arrive on time. □ Вода быстро прибывает. The water is rising swiftly.

прибытие arrival. Прибытие и отход поездов. Arrival and departure of trains. □ Укажите точно час прибытия вашего поезда. State the exact hour of the arrival of your train.

прибыть (-буду, -будет; p прибыл, прибыла, прибыло, -и; pct of прибывать) to come. На днях прибудет новая пария товаров. A new lot of goods will come any day now.

прибью See прибить.

приведу See привести.

привёз See привезти.

привезти (-везу -зёт; p -вёз, -везла, -о, -и; pct of привозить) to bring (by conveyance). Мне привезли из дому новый свитер. They brought me a new sweater from home. — Привезите мне хорошего вина. Bring me some good wine.

привёл See привести.

привести (-веду, -дёт; p -вёл, -вела, -о, -и; prger -ведший; pct of приводить) to bring along. Я привёл с собой товарища. I brought a friend along. □ привести в порядок to put in order. Перед отъездом мне нужно будет привести все дела в порядок. Before leaving I'll have to put all my affairs in order. привести в чувство to bring to. Нам с трудом удалось привести его в чувство. We brought him to with difficulty. □ Боюсь, это приведёт к большой путанице. I'm afraid this will result in a great mixup. • В доказательство


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290 And now he turned him to that dark-eyed slave

Whose brow was bowed beneath the glance he gave,

Who now seemed changed and humbled, faint and meek,

But varying oft the colour of her cheek

To deeper shades of paleness—all its red

That fearful spot which stained it from the dead!

He took that hand—it trembled—now too late—

So soft in love—so wildly nerved in hate;

He clasped that hand—it trembled—and his own

Had lost its firmness, and his voice its tone.

"Gulnare!"—but she replied not—"dear Gulnare!"

She raised her eye—her only answer there—

At once she sought and sunk in his embrace:

If he had driven her from that resting-place,

His had been more or less than mortal heart,

But—good or ill—it bade her not depart.

Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast,

His latest virtue then had joined the rest.

Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss

That asked from form so fair no more than this,

The first, the last that Frailty stole from Faith—

To lips where Love had lavished all his breath,

To lips—whose broken sighs such fragrance fling,

As he had fanned them freshly with his wing!"

XVIII.

They gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle.

To them the very rocks appear to smile;