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376 the psychic force of the resisting impulse until a point is reached where the emotion can be won over for the formation of the dream. In the dream of my uncle, just mentioned, the affectionate counter emotion has probably originated from an infantile source (as the continuation of the dream would suggest), for the relation between uncle and nephew has become the source of all my friendships and hatreds, owing to the peculiar nature of my childish experiences (cf. analysis on p. 334).

There is a class of dreams deserving the designation "hypocritical," which puts the theory of wish-fulfilment to a severe test. My attention was called to them when Mrs. Dr. M. Hilferding brought up for discussion in the Vienna Psychoanalytic Society the dream reported by Rosegger, which is reprinted below.

In Waldheimat, vol. xi., Rosegger writes as follows in his story, Fremd gemacht, p. 303:

"I have usually enjoyed healthful sleep, but I have lost the rest of many a night. With my modest existence as a student and literary man, I have for long years dragged along with me the shadow of a veritable tailor's life, like a ghost from which I could not become separated. I cannot say that I have occupied myself so often and so vividly with thoughts of my past during the day. An assailer of heaven and earth arising from the skin of the Philistine has other things to think about. Nor did I, as a dashing young fellow, think about my nocturnal dreams; only later, when I got into the habit of thinking about everything or when the Philistine within me again asserted itself, it struck me that whenever I dreamed I was always the journeyman tailor, and was always working in my master's shop for long hours without any remuneration. As I sat there and sewed and pressed I was quite aware that I no longer belonged there, and that as a burgess of a town I had other things to attend to; but I was for ever having vacations, and going out into the country, and it was then that I sat near my boss and assisted him. I often felt badly, and regretted the loss of time which I might spend for better and more useful purposes. If something did not come up to the measure and cut exactly, I had to submit to a reproach from


text: Popular Science Monthly/Volume 88/January 1916/Shooting at Jupiter

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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Burder, Samuel


text: Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/9


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/16

2 It was Maury who created the science of the physical geography of the sea, and gave that impetus to its study which, in other hands, continues to produce results alike of practical and speculative importance. The higher qualities of the illustrious hydrographer, his self-denying zeal, his single-minded patriotism, his private virtues, will appear in the course of the narrative.

It is desirable that the student of Maury's life should know something of the stock from which he was derived. Matthew Fontaine Maury was descended from a Huguenot family on the father's side, while his maternal ancestor received a grant of land in Virginia from King Charles II. Dudas Minor, in whose favor this grant was made in 1665, was an English gentleman who became the ancestor of the family of Minor in Virginia; branches of which have since moved into Louisiana, Missouri, Kentucky, and other Southern States. The Virginia planters formed a colonial aristocracy with practical exemption from taxation, great command of labor, and almost a monopoly in the production of tobacco. Some of these planters possessed estates of such extent that they amounted to principalities. Lord Fairfax owned all the land between the waters of the Potomac and the Rappahannock. Twenty six of the finest counties of Virginia were the property of a single nobleman but little over a century ago, whose descendants of today do not own an acre of that vast inheritance. Many of the Virginia estates were granted by Queen Anne, and some are still held under deeds from her. She was a favorite in Virginia, was good Queen Anne, and her name was bestowed upon a whole system of rivers. In the revolutionary war the Virginia planters displayed a patriotic munificence which sufficiently proved their wealth. On one occasion


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cramer, Franz


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cramer, Johann Baptist


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/17

Rh Governor Nelson bought 1000 horses for the service of his State; on another he subscribed 200,000 dollars. Mann Page, afterwards governor, fed Washington's army for a week from the supplies of his own plantations.

These Virginians had become a proud and happy race. It is to them we owe that scheme of civil liberty which has blessed the American people, and is today extending its happy influences over the world. Inheriting ample fortunes, they were educated in the best schools of the old country, whence they returned to their estates, and passed their lives in contemplating the great possibilities awaiting the new world, and in devising the means by which the capabilities of their adopted country could be developed. Living like patriarchs, freed from all monetary cares, with minds stored with the precedents of history, and knowing no short cuts to knowledge, these men thought out and finally proclaimed that plan of self government which is today the admiration and desire of all the peoples of the earth. Thus George Mason of Gunston Hall composed the "Bill of Rights of Virginia," on which Jefferson afterwards based the Declaration of Independence of the United States.

The Church of England was the only church of the colony. Its edifices, built of English bricks, still stand amidst the graves of old Virginia. Many of them are empty and silent now, serving only as monuments of the dead generations of a noble race. Others have been repaired and modernized by the iconoclasts of these times, and still resound with the grand old ritual of the Church.

Into this Virginia community the Huguenots came, bringing with them the simple service of their creed, the influence of which is still felt in the Low Church observances of their adopted country. These Huguenots, after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, became a persecuted Rh


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cramer, Wilhelm


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crampton, Philip


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crampton, Victoire


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crane, Edward


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crane, Francis


text:
Page:A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury.pdf/18

4 community. Some abjured their religion, for the penalties of nonconformity were cruel; but many thousands of braver spirits, who spurned the offers and defied the threats of Louvois, left France forever and braved exile and poverty for their faith. They brought with them their names, their courage, and their resolve to worship God according to their consciences. In Virginia they could have no grants of land, for all was already occupied. But they had absolute freedom to think, to work, and to worship God in their own way, amidst a people who welcomed and loved them for their fidelity to a common faith.

Amongst these exiles the families of de La Fontaine and Maury, who had borne a prominent part in the resistance offered by the Huguenots of France to the dragonnades of Louvois, arrived in Virginia in 1714. Identified in a common cause and a common misfortune, they were connected by marriage before leaving France, and became still more closely affiliated in Virginia. In 1722 the Reverend James Fontaine wrote his autobiography, when he was sixty four years of age, beginning the record of his family with the birth of his ancestor, Jean de La Fontaine, who was born in the year 1500. This worthy resided in the province of Maine, near the borders of Normandy. He was a staunch supporter of the Protestant Church, and occupied an elevated position at Court. But, having become a convert in about 1535, he was hated on account of his zeal for the pure worship of God, and it was deemed expedient to get rid of so prominent a heretic as soon as possible. Charles IX was then in his minority, and Catherine de Medici held almost unlimited power. Accordingly a band of ruffians was dispatched from the city of Le Mans—in the year 1563—to attack his house at night. He and his wife were foully murdered. "Oh, my children," exclaims the pious biographer, "Let us never forget that the blood of martyrs flows in our veins, and may


text:
Page talk:Popular Science Monthly Volume 16.djvu/662

Without img float template there is gap inside paragraph. What was wrong with img float template? Linnea (talk) 06:50, 28 May 2012 (UTC)


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Rh God, of His infinite mercy, grant that the remembrance of it may enliven our faith, so that we prove not unworthy scions of so noble a stock that God has promised to bestow special blessings upon the seed of the righteous. I have been young and now am old, yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, nor His seed begging their bread. And we can generally see His providential care guarding the children of those whose blood has been shed in His service." The three young sons of these Christian martyrs were providentially saved, and lived to rear a numerous progeny in the fear of God and the faith of their murdered parents.

This narrative was written in French by the Reverend James Fontaine for the use and edification of his children, some years after he was driven from France by the persecutions following the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. It was found, 150 years afterwards, at Rock Castle in Hanover County, Virginia, the residence of Mr. James Fontaine, and was translated from the French and published under the title of 'Memoirs of a Huguenot Family.' The editor was Miss Ann Maury, great grand-daughter of Mary Ann Fontaine (the only daughter of the Reverend James Fontaine, the writer of the Memoirs), and of Matthew Maury, a Huguenot gentleman. The subject of this biography was also a great grandchild of Matthew Maury and Mary Fontaine. Richard Maury, father of the subject of this biography, was the sixth son of the Reverend James Maury, who was son of Matthew Maury and Mary Ann Fontaine. The Reverend James Maury was an Episcopal clergyman and a Classical instructor of youth in Walker parish, Albemarle County, Virginia. He numbered among his pupils three boys who afterwards became Presidents of the United States, and five signers of the Declaration of Independence.

He was a quiet thinker—a serene old man, who gave the


text:
User:Hayati123

SSMRV college

sri M C shivananda sarma was the visonary who laid the foundation of the Rashtreeya vidyalaya instutions.

Born into a peasant family in T. Narasipura ,karnataka in 1911, he was an internet social worker from his chidhood.Inspried by the likes of Shri Madana Mohan Malaviya, Shri Rabindranath Tagore and Shri Mahatma Gandhi, he founded the Rashtreeya vidalaya Instution with just six students ,on vijayadashami in 1940.

His motto of social service through education led to the formation of Rashtreeya Sikashana Samitha Trust, under whose banner today,there are twenty reputed instutions from nursery to post-gradution levels.Shivananda Sarma worked with unwavering commitment, zeal and dedication,as its founder secretary ,till his demise in 1969.

All the R.V Institutions owe their fame and repute to his tireless efforts which has placed in a prominent place both at the national and international levels.

Rashtreeya Sikashana Samithi Trust

The Rashtreeya Sikshana samitha Trust has been managing educational inustions at various levels,ranging from nursery,primary and higher secondary schools to degree college and instutions of engineering ,medical and management education .The trust was founded in 1940, with a small number of students at the nursery level.With the dedicated efforts of the associated educationists,it developed into a dyanamic organization, managing diverse instutions of national and global repute. The credit for this incredible growth and fame undoubtedly goes to the Trustees ,Whose vision,toiland efforts has enablemany students of R.V Instutions to carve a niche for themselves in the vast competitive world.The Rashtreeya Sikshana Samitha Trust in known for its dedication in education with a vision to realise educational ideas.

About SSMRV PU College...

SSMRV college was established in 1982 by Rashtreeya sikshana Samitha Trust,offering Pre-university and Bacherlor's Degree in commerce and science faculities.The college was bifurcated in 2002 into SSMRV Degree college and SSMRV PU college as per karnataka Goverment order.This college has various activites,like sports, eco club ,NSS and NCC activites.This college has secured many medals

title: User:Hayati123


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A from this account or IP address, which appeared to be a test edit, was removed or reverted. Please use the sandbox for this purpose. The community portal has information on contributing to this library. Beeswaxcandle (talk) 07:35, 28 May 2012 (UTC)

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User talk:Jenlee639

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text:
Page:Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days.djvu/261

hurried across to the players' bench, tightening his belt as he ran.

"If I only get a chance to play," he kept thinking. "I don't care what happens after that, nor what Uncle Ezra may want."

The game soon started, and it began to look bad for Kentfield, for the outfielders made several costly errors, and at the ending of the sixth inning the score was eight to three, in favor of Mooretown.

"Looks rather bad," said Captain Rutledge to the coach.

"Nonsense," replied Hale. "You can win yet. Take a brace, that's all."

Kentfield had elected to be last at the bat, and, in the beginning of the seventh inning, when Mooretown was up, Perkins, the regular short-stop, split his hand in stopping a "hot" ball. The other players gathered about him.

"I guess it's all up with us now," remarked Dutton, from his seat in the grandstand. "We haven't got anyone who can play like Perkins. Hamilton is green. Our goose is cooked."


text: A Cup of Coffee

title: A Cup of Coffee


text:
Page:Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days.djvu/262

244 "Say, I've got some news about Hamilton," spoke Russell Glen, worming his way to Dutton's side, during the lull in the contest following the injury of Perkins.

"I don't care. I want to see how this game is coming out."

Perkins walked to the bench, blood dripping from his hand.

"Hamilton!" cried Captain Rutledge, and Dick sprang from the bench, pulling off his sweater. His chance had come.

"Hamilton's going to play," said Dutton. "Oh, what a score they'll roll up against us! They'll knock all their balls at him, and he'll miss them. What were you saying about Hamilton?" he went on, turning to Glen. "This is tough luck, though!"

"Hamilton has lost all his money!" cried Glen, and his tone seemed to show that he relished the news.

"No!"

"Fact. His uncle told me," and Glen related the story he had received from Mr. Larabee.

Dutton was greatly surprised, and so were several other cadets who overheard what Glen had said. But there was little time to speculate on it, as the game was under way again.

Whether it was Dick's presence at shortstop, or because the other players on his team braced up, was not evident. At any rate, Mooretown was held down to a goose egg in that inning, and


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Rh when it came the turn of Kentfield to show what the nine could do in the ending of the seventh inning, there were three runs to the credit of the cadets, Dick having made one.

"The score is six to eight!" murmured Glen to Dutton. "Hamilton isn't doing so bad."

"No, but he would if he knew all his money was gone, I guess."

"Maybe we ought to tell him," suggested the sporty student.

"I wish I could," murmured Dutton.

The game went on fiercely. It was nip and tuck all the while now, for Kentfield's chances had improved wonderfully, and they were fighting hard to win.

In the eighth inning neither side scored. There was an anxious look on the faces of all the players as the ninth opened. Mooretown could afford to smile, however, as she was still two runs ahead. At first it looked as if she would pile up several more tallies on this score, for the Kentfield pitcher gave two men their bases on balls, and the next man got to first on an easy fly.

A heavy hitter was up next, and at the first crack he sent a "hot liner" straight at Dick. Our hero did not flinch, though the impact was terrific. He caught the ball squarely, and the batter was out. Then, by a neat double play, Dick and the third baseman put out another man who was trying to steal home.


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246 The next batter struck out. retiring Mooretown without a run, but still leaving them two ahead.

"Now, fellows, we must show them what we're made of!" cried the captain. "We want three runs this inning!"

Captain Rutledge did his share by getting one, and another was brought in by a narrow margin, tying the score.

"One to win!" cried the coach.

"Hamilton up!" announced the score keeper.

"And two out!" added Dutton to Glen. "He can never do it. "We're dumped already."

Dick took his place at the plate. It was a trying ordeal for a substitute player, and the eyes of all the spectators were upon him. The result of the game, in a great measure, depended on him. If he did not get the winning run, it meant that the game would go another inning, and the chances of Kentfield would not be improved. For their pitcher's arm was going "back on him," and Mooretown's man was still good for much twirling.

Amid a silence that was almost painful, Dick waited for the first ball. It came, but he did not move his bat.

"One strike!" called the umpire, and there was something like a groan among the Kentfield players.

The next was a ball, and the following one looked as if it was going fairly over the plate. But Dick did not attempt to hit it.


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Rh "Two Strikes!"

It was like a death knell.

"He's cutting it pretty fine," murmured the captain nervously.

"Hamilton's all right," said Coach Hale confidently.

A moment later there came a resounding crack, as Dick's bat met the ball fairly. The horsehide went up in a graceful curve, and then sailed far out toward right field.

"Go on! Go on! Go on!" yelled Captain Rutledge, but his voice was lost in the roar that greeted Dick's hit. The young millionaire was leaping toward first base, while the right fielder was sprinting after the ball.

"A home run! A home run!" begged the coach, and it looked as if Dick would do it.

He got to third, and started for home. The fielder had the ball by this time, and relayed it to second. The man there threw it to third just as Dick left. Possibly it was an error of judgment, but Dick kept on. He could distinguish no coaching instructions now above the yells, though Hale was calling to him to remain on the bag. But Dick kept on.

Then, by some curious chance, the third baseman, instead of sending the ball home, held it in his hand, and raced after Dick. It was a contest of legs now. The baseman ignored the demands of the catcher to throw the ball, and leaped after Dick, who ran as he had never run before. He


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248 saw a vision of the game won, and, though his breath was coming in labored gasps, he did not stop. There was a mist before his eyes. His legs were tottering.

"Jove! But he can run!" whispered Dutton. "I never saw anything like it!"

"You bet!" agreed Glen fervidly.

On and on ran Dick. One quick glance over his shoulder showed him the baseman at his heels. He expected every moment to see the catcher get the ball, and put him out. But the horsehide did not come, and, the next instant, when Dick felt as if he could not go another inch, or draw another breath, he dropped, and slid home in a cloud of dust.

"Safe!" cried the umpire, and, as he spoke, the baseman, realizing the proper play, threw the ball. But it was too late. Dick had brought in the winning run.

"Wow! Wow! Wow! Hamilton! Hamilton! Hamilton! Whoop!" yelled the frenzied players. Above their shouts could be heard the shrill cries of many girls.

From the stands burst forth mighty cheers. A crowd of the cadet players surrounded Dick and would have carried him on their shoulders had he allowed them. They patted him on the back, and even punched him in their uncontrollable joy.

"Hamilton, you're entitled to the thanks of the entire school!" cried Coach Hale, rushing up, and wringing Dick's hand.


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Rh "We never could have won but for you!" admitted the captain. "Wow! but it was a fierce game!" and he sat down on the grass to recover his wind, after his lusty cheers.

They escorted Dick back to the dressing room in a sort of triumphal procession, scores of cadets pouring from the stands to join it. Never did a hero takes his honors more modestly. It was enough for Dick that he had helped win the victory, and he saw coming to him now what he had waited nearly a year for—fellowship.

Through the throng came Dutton and Glen.

"I say, Hamilton," called Glen, "your uncle's waiting for you."

"I know it," answered Dick. "But I couldn't talk to him until after the game."

"He's got news for you—bad news," went on Glen, with the relish some persons seem to take in telling of calamities.

"What is it?" inquired Dick, alarmed by the cadet's words and manner.

"Your father's fortune is wiped out, and so's yours! The New York bank has failed!"

For an instant Dick stared at the speaker. Then a changed look came over his face. He stepped forward, his suit covered with dirt, his face bleeding from a scratch, and still panting from his great run.

"My fortune lost?" he said. "I don't care a hang! We've won the game!"

There was a moment of silence, so surprised


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250 were the cadets at the manner in which Dick took the news. Then Glen cried out:

"My word, but you're plucky! Three cheers for Hamilton—who used to be a millionaire—but isn't any longer," he added, and Dick's ears rang with the joyous shouts.


text: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 29

title: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 29


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", Nephew Richard, I've been waiting some time for you," said Uncle Ezra Larabee a little later, when Dick, having gotten out of his suit and donned his cadet uniform, went into the reception room. I've been here for some time, and very likely I've lost my train, but I couldn't go back without seeing you."

"I'm sorry I kept you so long, Uncle Ezra," replied Dick, "but you see I was in a baseball game, and I couldn't leave until we won. It was very important to win."

"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the old man. "Baseball is a dangerous and wicked game. It leads to all sorts of trouble. When I was a boy we played such sensible games as tag and blindman's buff. Baseball! The idea!"

"The cadets of Kentfield would look pretty playing tag," thought Dick, but he did not say anything.

"I have some bad news for you, Nephew Richard," went on Uncle Ezra. "I suppose you wonder what it is."

"I know."


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 "You know?"

"Yes, Glen told me."

"Oh, he must be the young man whom I was talking to. Well, I regret very much to be the bearer of such ill tidings," went on Mr. Larabee, "but, if you are hoping that it is not true, you are much mistaken. I received word from New York yesterday that the bank in which was most of your father's wealth, as well as your own, which your mother, my sister, so foolishly left you"

"Sir!" cried Dick, for he could not bear to hear his mother spoken of in that way.

"Well, I think it foolish to leave a youth so much money," said Mr. Larabee, "and now my judgment is confirmed. You are no longer a millionaire."

"I don't know as I care much," said Dick coolly. "My money didn't do as much as I expected it would."

"Foolish, perverse youth," murmured his uncle. "But you must make a change in your plans. You can no longer stay at this expensive school. You had better pack up your things and come home with me to Dankville. I will look after you until your father comes home from Europe. Doubtless I may be able to get you a position in a woolen mill in which I am interested. If you hurry we can take the late train, and I will be able to use the excursion ticket I bought."

Dick considered matters a moment. Then he said:


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Rh "I don't think I'll go with you, Uncle Ezra."

"Not go with me? Why, what will you do?"

"Stay here and finish out the spring term. I'm just beginning to enjoy himself [sic]. There are only a few weeks left."

"But how can you? You have very little, if any, money."

"My tuition and board are paid up to the end of this term," said Dick calmly. "I have considerable money on deposit in the Kentfield bank, that I drew out from my funds at Hamilton Corners, when I came here. That will last me for some time. I think I prefer staying here to going back to—to Dankville."

"Well, of all the foolish, idiotic, senseless, rash proceedings I ever heard of!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "The idea! You will stay here and use up what little money is saved from the wreck of your fortune! Why, maybe you could get a rebate on what has been paid for board and tuition."

"I shouldn't think of asking for it," said Dick. "No, I think I'll stick it out here."

There was a movement at the door, and something came into the room, something that slid up to Dick, and began wiggling at his feet.

"Quiet, Grit, old boy," he said.

"Is that your bulldog?" asked Uncle Ezra.

"Yes; he was too lonesome at home without me, so I sent for him. He stays in the stable."

"Another foolish and useless expense,"


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 the old man. "Oh, what is the world coming to!"

Dick didn't know, so he didn't answer.

"Think well," went on Mr. Larabee. "You had better come home with me. I can get you work in the woolen mill."

"I'll stay here," replied Dick firmly.

"Then I wash my hands of you!" exclaimed the aged man. "Never appeal to me for help! I am done with you! Of all the foolish, thoughtless, rash youths I ever met, you are the worst; and your father"

What Mr. Larabee would have said about Mr. Hamilton he never finished, for Grit, hearing the voice of a man he considered his enemy, made a rush from under the table where he was lying, and growled as though he was going to sample Uncle Ezra's legs.

"Take that brute away!" exclaimed Dick's crabbed relative, but before the order could be executed Mr. Larabee turned and fled from the room, Grit pursuing him as far as the hall.

"I guess we've seen the last of him for a while," mused Dick. "Eh, Grit, old boy?"

The bulldog nearly shook off his stump of a tail.

"Well, I guess I had better write to dad, and find out how bad things really are," he went on. "Still, there's no use worrying. I got along all right before I knew I was a millionaire, and I guess I can now when I'm not."


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Rh Someone looked in the reception room. It was Glen.

"I say, Hamilton," he remarked, "the boys are looking all over for you. They want you to lead a procession. We're going to have a grand celebration, burn the uniforms, and break training to celebrate the victory. Hurry up!"

"This is worth losing one's money for," thought Dick, as he took his place at the head of the procession of merry, shouting, laughing cadets. "I'm getting to be popular, I guess."

Indeed, whether it was his victory on the diamond or the loss of his money, it would be hard to say, but, at any rate, more cadets made friends with Dick that night than had done so in his whole previous time at Kentfield.

But though Dick had won the hearts of the baseball nine and their friends, he was still far from being one of the really popular lads in the school. Dutton and his cronies held aloof from him, and many followed their example.

But, unexpectedly, there came a great change in Dick's life, and Dutton was partly responsible for it. Dick and some of his companions were at broadsword exercise on horseback one day, while, on the farther side of the cavalry plain, there was a class drilling in artillery, under the direction of Dutton. Dick was fencing with Lyndon Butler, when suddenly Dutton's steed, frightened by the discharge of a cannon near it, reared, throwing the young major off.


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256 Dutton's foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged along, unable to release himself, while six artillery horses, drawing a heavy gun, dashed down the field and seemed about to collide with the youthful major's animal.

Dick saw a chance to save his enemy, and turned his horse quickly, to make a dash. So rapid was his movement that Butler's sword gave him a gash in the face, Dick forgetting, in the excitement of the moment, to guard himself. With the blood streaming from a cut on his cheek Dick urged his horse at a gallop until he had caught Dutton's runaway mount. He did it only just in time, for, as he pulled the beast, still dragging the young major, to one side, the artillery steeds dashed over the spot. Dutton would have been killed but for Dick's prompt act.

Major Webster rode up quickly, and was glad to find that neither Dick nor Dutton was seriously hurt.

"Who caught my horse?" asked Dutton, as he struggled to his feet. "The last I remember was seeing him running toward the artillery animals, and I made up my mind there'd be quite a smash when they met."

"They didn't meet, thanks to Dick Hamilton," said the elderly major. "He stopped your horse just in time."

"And got a nasty cut into the bargain," added another cadet.

Dick was beginning to feel a trifle dizzy. He


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 turned aside. Dutton took a step forward, in spite of his strained ankle.

"Hamilton," he said, and there was a husky note in his voice.

Dick turned back.

"Hamilton—I—er—I—I—will you shake hands?" asked Button suddenly, and he seemed much affected.

Dick grasped the outstretched hand, and the two, one of whom had been an unrelenting enemy of the other, looked into each others' eyes.

"Hamilton," went on Dutton, still holding Dick's hand, "I don't know how to thank you. Will you—will you forgive me?"

"Oh—there's nothing to forgive," said Dick.

"Yes, there is," said Dutton huskily. "I've treated you—I've been a cad, that's what I have! I didn't like you at first—I thought you were proud of your millions. I didn't like the idea of you being here—I was jealous, I guess. I wanted to make you quit. It was I who tied your dog to the saluting gun, and tried to throw the blame on you. I've done other mean things. I—I"

"Forget it!" said Dick so heartily that the other cadets laughed, and thus broke what was becoming quite a strain.

Major Webster, when he heard the beginning of Dutton's confession, walked away. He was a wise old soldier, and he knew that the lads could best settle those things among themselves.


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258 "And you don't bear me any grudge?" asked Dutton, after a pause.

"Not a bit. But you'd better get back to the hospital and have your ankle looked after," for Dutton was limping.

"Oh, that isn't anything. It might just as well have been my head. But, say, you got a nasty dig."

"Only a scratch." replied Dick with a happy laugh. He would have welcomed another one if it could have insured him such an outcome as had followed this.

"I guess we'd better take you both to the hospital," said Butler, who had ridden up, fearful lest he had seriously injured Dick.

And thither the two wounded cadets were taken, though their stay there was brief.

It was a week after the sensational rescue of Dutton that a meeting of the exclusive society of the Sacred Pig was held in the cosy little clubhouse which had been built by contributions and donations of the cadets themselves or their fathers. Dutton arose and proposed Dick for membership, the election being unanimous.

The next day being Saturday, was an occasion for the cadets enjoying considerable freedom. It was after the evening parade, when Dick and some of his new chums had received permission to go to town to a theatrical performance, that Major Webster sent for our hero.

"I'll not keep you a moment, Hamilton," he


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 said, "as I know your friends are waiting for you. But you remember that battered marksman's medal that Toots had, and which you requested me to investigate for you?"

"Yes; have you any information about it?"

"I have. I sent it to a friend of mine, an officer at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, and he has just returned it. With it he sends some surprising news."

"What is it?"

"That medal was issued to Corporal William Handlee, a number of years ago."

"Corporal Handlee—the missing soldier—Captain Handlee's son?"

"The very same."

"Why, how—where did Toots get it, I wonder? Is it possible that he"

"We must ask him. I will question him tonight, and let you know the result. Hark, there he comes now."

Someone was coming down the corridor, whistling the lively strains of "Yankee Doodle."

"That's Toots," said Dick with a smile. "I wonder how he came to have Handlee's medal. Can he possibly be"

But at that instant there came a series of excited shouts from outside.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

Dick and the major rushed to the window.

"Fire! Fire!" shouted Toots, as he ran back along the corridor.


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260 Dick saw a black pall of smoke, through which shot red tongues of flame.

"It's the society house of the Sacred Pig," he cried.

And it was from the windows of the meeting place of the cadets' society that the flames were shooting.


text: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 30

title: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 30


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, followed by the major, rushed from the barracks to go to the fire, the housekeeper thrust an envelope into the young millionaire's hand.

"It is a telegram that just came for you," she explained.

Dick shoved it into his pocket without opening it. Then he joined the throng of excited and alarmed students that had gathered about the burning society headquarters.

A small fire department was maintained at the academy, but as the buildings of the school were all fireproof, the brigade was not a very large one, and was only equipped with chemical apparatus.

"We must telephone for the town fire department," cried Dutton.

"They won't get here in time to do much," said Major Webster. "Better save what you can inside, boys."

They saw that what he said was true. There was a stiff wind blowing, fanning the flames to furnace heat. The blaze had started on the upper


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 floor, and had already eaten its way through the roof. No one knew what had caused the fire, as there was no one in the place when it started, and it had burned for some time before breaking out.

Fortunately, the structure was well away from any of the academy buildings, and there was little danger to them.

"Let's save what we can!" cried Dick, and the boys began running in, carrying out such of the trophies as they could find on the lower floor. But it soon became too hot for them, and Major Webster, fearing someone would get hurt, ordered the work of salvage to cease.

"Too bad!" observed Russell Glen, as he and others watched the handsome brick and stone building crumbling into ruins. "And we counted on having such sport there next term."

"Well, it's insured, isn't it?" asked Dick. "We can collect the money, and build a better one."

"Insured!" suddenly cried Dutton. "There, I meant to attend to that, but it slipped my mind!"

"What did?" asked Allen Rutledge.

"The insurance. It expired the day before yesterday."

"And do you mean to say you forgot to get it renewed?"

"I forgot all about it."

"And haven't we a cent of insurance on it?" asked Paul Drew.

"Not a penny. It's all my fault. I meant to get new policies, but I put it off and now"


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Rh "Now it's too late," said Rutledge. "You're a fine treasurer, you are."

Amazement and chagrin made Dutton incapable of replying. The cadets looked on sorrowfully, as they saw their society house being destroyed, knowing that it would be no easy matter to get the money for a new one.

Suddenly there was an explosion from within, and a shower of stones from one of the walls flew into the air.

"Look out!" cried Dick.

He and the others leaped back in time, but Toots, who was in the front rank of spectators, having helped to carry out many valued relics, did not seem to hear. A moment later a fragment of stone struck him on the head, and he fell down.

"Toots is hurt!" cried Dick, running up to the odd janitor, whom all the cadets liked because of his pleasant ways.

"Carry him to the hospital, boys," said the major. "I'll have the surgeon attend to him. Maybe he isn't hurt much."

But from the blood on the head of poor Toots, it would seem that the wound was not a small one.

Sorrowfully Dick and his chums carried the unconscious man. There was little use remaining at the fire now, for it was almost out, having consumed everything save the walls.

"He isn't badly hurt," announced the surgeon cheerfully, when he had examined Toots. "Only


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264 a cut on the head. He'll be all right in a few days."

Suddenly the injured man, who had been placed on a couch in the hospital, sat up. He felt of the bandage on his head. Then he looked around wildly.

"Did we beat the red imps off?" he asked. "Why is it I don't hear the firing? Have they retreated? Am I badly hurt? Let me get at 'em again! I'm a good shot! I can pick 'em off!"

He started from his couch, but the suregon [sic] gently pressed him back.

"What's the matter, Toots?" he asked. "Where do you think you are?"

"Toots? Who's Toots? I'm Corporal Bill Handlee, and I must get back to my post. I'm a sharpshooter, and the Indians are attacking us."

The surgeon looked at the injured man in amazement. He thought Toots was delirious. But to Dick the thrilling words meant much. He pressed forward. In his hand he held the battered marksman's medal which Major Webster had returned to him.

"Is this yours, Corporal Handlee?" he asked.

"Yes; where did you get it?" asked Toots. "But why don't some of you speak? Have we beaten off the red imps?"

"Yes," said Dick gently, understanding the whole story now. "They were beaten back some years ago, Toots. Oh, I've found you at last! Won't your father be glad!"


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Rh "My father?" and Toots, or, as we must call him now, Corporal Handlee, looked dazed. "My father knows where I am."

"He doesn't, but he soon will," said Dick joyfully, and by degrees, he told the story of how he had agreed to help Captain Handlee locate his missing son, and how, by a strange trick of fate, he had been found.

And that Toots was this missing son there was no doubt. His memory, a blank for many years, because of a bullet wound on the head, received in a fight with the Indians out west, had been restored to him. The surgeon explained it by saying that the blow from the stone, which exploded from the heat, had undone the injury caused by the bullet, by relieving the pressure of a certain bone on the brain. Such cases are rare, but not altogether unknown, he added, and persons who had forgotten for many years who they were suddenly recalled the past.

Of course Toots, or, Corporal Handlee, as we must now call him, could not tell where he had been all the years that he was missing. The last he remembered was taking part in an Indian fight, and being wounded. When he recovered consciousness from the blow of the hot stone, he thought he was still at Fort Lamarie. He had forgotten all the intervening time, including several years spent at Kentfield.

It was surmised that he must have wandered away after the Indian fight, recovered, though


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266 with his memory gone, taken another name, and then drifted about, until he secured a place at the military academy. That, the officers recalled, was five years ago.

The corporal had not recognized his own photograph, though something in his hazy memory made him think he knew the man the picture represented. His own medal as a marksman he had supposed belong to another.

"I must send Captain Handlee a telegram at once," said Dick, when the excitement had calmed down. "It will be great news for him."

Leaving Corporal Handlee in charge of the surgeon, the old soldier being quite weak, and hardly able to understand all that had happened, Dick started for the telegraph office, which was not far from the school. He sent the message to the old captain, and, in getting out his money to pay for it, he put his hand in the pocket into which he had thrust the telegram the housekeeper had given him.

"Guess I'd better read it," he murmured. "The fire and finding Corporal Handlee made me forget all about it."

It was from his father, and was very short, but the news it contained made Dick throw his cap up into the air, and yell out in pure delight.

"Wow!" he cried. "Wow! Wow! Wow!"

The operator came running from his little office.

"Got bad news?" he asked.


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Rh "Bad?" repeated Dick. "No, it's the best in the world! My dad's coming home!"

"Seems to me you're making quite a fuss about it."

"So would you if you knew what else he said," spoke Dick, as he rushed from the building.

He found most of his chums grouped around the ruins of the society house. They were talking about the fire.

"It's all my fault," Dutton was saying. "I guess I'll resign as treasurer."

"I guess we won't have any society, if we can't have a meeting place," observed Hale, sorrowfully.

"Say, Dutton, have you a fountain pen?" asked Dick, as he came up beside his former enemy.

"I guess so. What do you want it for?"

"I'll show you."

Dick sat down on a pile of debris. From his pocket he took a thin, red book, and commenced writing in it by the light of the embers of the ruined society house. Presently he tore out a slip of paper and handed it to Dutton.

"What—what's this?" stammered the treasurer of the Sacred Pig. "Why—why—Hamitlon!"

"What is it?" demanded a score of voices, as the cadets crowded up.

"It's a check—a check," stammered Dutton, as he saw the figures which Dick had written in, and noted that they occupied four places. "It's a check!"


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268 "To rebuild the society house of the Sacred Pig," said our hero simply.

"But I—I thought you lost all your money, Hamilton," said Dutton.

"I thought so, too," replied Dick. "So did Uncle Ezra, but I cabled to dad, and it's all a mistake. He took all our funds from the bank that failed before he went abroad. We didn't lose a cent."

"Then you're a millionaire yet, aren't you?" asked Dutton.

"I'm—I'm afraid so," answered Dick.

There was silence for a moment, and then the cadets seemed to understand what Dick had done. They looked at the piece of paper fluttering in Dutton's hand. It meant that they could have a new and better headquarters for their society.

"Three cheers for Dick Hamilton!" called several, and Dick's ears rang to the sweetest music he had ever heard.

They all wanted to shake hands with him at once, and they made so much noise that Colonel Masterly sent one of the teachers out to see if the fire had started afresh.

"It's only the cadets cheering Mr. Hamilton, sir," replied the instructor, when he returned.

"Hum! He's getting to be quite popular," said the colonel, with a smile, for he understood about Dick's handicap.

And there was abundant evidence of his popularity a little later on, for they insisted on


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Rh Dick on their shoulders to the saluting cannon, where all important events were celebrated, and there they did a sort of war dance about him. Dick would have been glad to escape, but they would not let him.

"We don't want your money, honey, we want you!" they sang. And Dick knew that they spoke the truth. He had fulfilled another condition of his mother's will, and become popular in spite of his wealth, though for a time he feared this would never happen. He had thought of a plan to pretend that he had suddenly grown poor, but Uncle Ezra's mistake made this unnecessary.

"I don't know whether it's more fun to be rich or poor," thought Dick, as he went to bed that night. But he had other adventures, in which his great wealth played a part, and those of you who care to follow Dick Hamilton's fortunes further may read of them in the next volume of this series, to be called: "Dick Hamilton's Steam Yacht; or, A Young Millionaire and the Kidnappers."

"Well, how are you feeling this morning, Toots—I mean Corporal?" asked Dick, about a week later, when the janitor was able to leave the hospital.

"Fine. I'd never know I'd been sick. That was a lucky thing to get hit with a stone, so I could know who I really was. But I'm anxious to get home and see my father, since you say he's not well."


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270 "Oh, he's not seriously ill," said Dick. "I had a letter from Henry Darby about him. He's so pleased that you have been located, that a sight of you is about all the medicine he needs."

"I can go home to him in a few days, Colonel Masterly says."

"You want to give us an exhibition of shooting before you go," suggested Dick.

"I'm afraid I'm all out of practice," objected the former corporal.

But he was not, as he very quickly proved, when he and some chums of Dick went to the rifle range. There the soldier made bullseye after bullseye with an ease that made the cadets fairly gasp, and he did all sorts of fancy shooting, including driving a tack in a board from even a greater distance than even Captain Handlee had boasted that his son could do it.

"I guess it must have been that my eyes were affected by that Indian bullet," said the corporal. "They got all right again when the stone from the fire hit me."

Later, the surgeon admitted that this was probably true.

A short time after this Corporal Bill Handlee joined his aged father in Hamilton Corners, and the two enjoyed many happy years together, thanks to Mr. Hamilton's generosity, and what Dick had done to solve the mystery.

"Well, Grit, old boy," said our hero one day near the close of the term, as he was strolling over


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Rh the campus, followed by his ugly pet, and with Paul Drew, William the Silent and some other cadets at his side, "well, Grit, I think you and I will go home soon. Dad will be home next week, and say, maybe we won't have some good times; eh, Grit?"

The bulldog nearly turned a summersault to show how glad he was. A few days later Dick and his dog were at Hamilton Corners, ready for the summer vacation.


text: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 31

title: Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 31


text: Index:To Bourkes Statue.djvu

title: Index:To Bourkes Statue.djvu


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 Hotel Bellevue, Wäggis, May 24th, 1885.

I am much interested in the Spectator cutting, tho' I believe myself that the strain of living in the worst places would be too trying yet to educated people; it would diminish their strength, and so their usefulness; The reform must be, I believe, more gradual. The newspapers go in for such extremes, from utter separation to living in a court! I should urge the spending of many hours weekly there, as achieving most just now, because it is less suicidal than the other course, and more natural.

Hotel Lukmanner, Ilanz, Grisons, June 7th, 1885.

Dissentis seems to me a very old-world place. A dear old lady keeps the inn, which is very comfortable; but one seems nearer the life of the people here than where modern hotels have invaded. . . . How striking to me is the character of every separate house in these valleys. Something, of course, is due to the varieties of the ground, but much, too, I cannot help seeing, to the fact that the houses belong to the inhabitants. I wonder if we shall live to see a larger number of English owners? I doubt it. It seems to me that the impediments come by no means mainly from the landlords. Of course they would cling, especially in towns, to possession where value is rising, but I doubt the tenants caring to buy much for occupation. They, like the landlords, like to buy houses rising in value, with an idea of letting or selling; but few, I fancy, desire to bind themselves to one spot and


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 way of life. They like the freedom and the change of hiring. Even young married people, who, as a class, settle in with most sense of attachment to place and things, expect to move to another neighbourhood if work changes, or to a larger house if it prospers. Perhaps it is partly the great cost of living, and the fact that rent has to be paid. But one rarely sees in English towns a house lived in by a family for generations, the large families filling from cellar to attic, and the small ones using the best rooms mainly. One fancies a small family should like a small house. Whereas clearly houses in the country in old times must have been handed down to very various occupants. Some little sense of individuality would be quickly stamped, even on London houses, if they were owned by occupiers. But the attachment to things seems giving place to a desire for their perfection, and we seem inclined rather to hire furniture or appliances for special occasions than to accept, even our houses, as in any way permanent. If they don't suit us. for the moment, we change them. Well there is a noble independence of things as well as a noble attachment to them ; and “ the old order changeth, giving place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways.” There will have to come back, how- ever, in one form or another, that element of rest in which alone certain human virtues can live ; but it may come in ways we do not know.

Deptford, September, 1885 ?

All is very bright and well with us here, except poor Queen Street, which is a constant anxiety. My


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 great fear is that Mr. T. will sell it, and take the management out of my hands. I am sure we should get on in time. However, all that is out of my hands. I don't know that I could have done differently at any juncture ; and so I must just abide the result, and accept it as purposed, and look to see what next opens out ; meantime, till it is decided, I am clinging on to the hope of it rather passionately. The MacDonalds came to town yesterday. I am to dine there on Tuesday. . . . I've been preparing my corn for a green refreshment to us a little later, and putting in my hyacinths. It is a great delight to me to come back to such things from Deptford.

October 15th, 1885.

We hear that the Metropolitan Board received the subject of Parliament Hill favourably. . . . There came in a petition from representative working men. . . . There were trade societies, co-operative societies, benefit societies represented. Mr. B. said the co-opera- tive signatures represented 2,000 working men. The petition from East End Clergy had fifty names of clergy and dissenting ministers, and the list was headed by the Bishop of Bedford. . ..

Octavia goes down to Lady Ducie for three days. I shall be glad of the change of thought for her. She is so worn with Deptford. Things are still very discouraging there ; they seem unable to get respectable tenants, the new ones they hoped were good, turning out unsatisfactory. Still helpers are rallying round her. ... It is nice to find old pupils coming to the front.


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Alumni of the South: I fain would sing The pompous asses and their blustering Whose acts obey the vice versa law Reflecting lustre from mere men of straw Where deepest jet, the purest pearl, outvies Nature still constant in anomalies And "Honest man, God's noblest work," a name Unknown in annals of this House of Fame— More lofty verse for such were penned in vaen Each pick his portrait in pure doggrel strain.— Let stern reality my picture fill Forego the lovely for the literal My metre as my tone play as I please With varied tints, as Autumn paints the trees.— Let me invoke, dread Nemesis, thy aid Thy coin flow freely where the debt is paid Oh! may this nobbler bright my muse inspire And guide my goose quill thro' thy maze,—Satire,—

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 November llth, 1885.

Octavia will have told you the result of the meeting of the Hampstead Heath Committee re Parliament Hill extension. Everyone seems to say “ Go on agitating thro’ the Press, and get the matter well before the public, there is yet hope.” But I think Octavia has little hope.

Did I tell you about the old woman at Deptford who said to Octavia in a voice of reassurance and yet wonder, “ You have feelings ! When you first came you did not know us, and we did not know you ; but you have feelings ! ” As if O. would be as surprised as she was at the discovery !

1884 or 5.

King (a Deptford tenant) had torn his garden all to pieces and broken pale of fence and windows here and there, and did not show himself at all. We were non-plussed. First I hoped to slip notice under door, but the weather-board was too close ; that is a reason against putting them on. Then we debated how legal a service pinning to the back door would be, but Mr. P. thought it would be awkward if I was summoned for breaking into his premises ; and to post it we thought would not be customary ; so we were balked and Mrs. Lynch smiled sweetly all the time at her door. Mrs. T. had the cheek to offer nothing, so I took her a notice. I gave out several jobs of cleaning to even off the £7. Mrs. Sandal's cistern was leaking worst sort. Matthews and Arter both said floor too old to pay for removal. My unlets have come down 10s.


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 14 Not. Place, November 7th, 1885.

I am so much interested to hear of all you have been seeing ; but I think I’d better write of things here. I’ve just come back from a Hampstead Heath Committee, a large, strong, determined one. They decided to bring a Bill into Parliament. Mr. S. Lefevre and Mr. Hunter went off to see Lord Mansfield’s agent. . ..

I think Deptford is in a very thriving state in many ways ; we are getting in such a quantity of local strength.

Miranda seems to me very happy, and, I hope, tolerably well. Her sweetness with everyone is beyond descrip- tion, and also her merry fun over all that takes place. She is quite delightful as a coadjutor, bringing all the people so sweetly together, and never making difficulties in anything ; and all her spirits and power come out. . ..

The Bishop of Manchester’s death is greatly felt. They say Jews, Catholics, the Greek Patriarch and people of all kinds went to the memorial service, and that they call him the “ Bishop of all denominations.”

Sarsden, Chipping Norton, October 17th, 1885.

.... It is very delightful to escape to sunlight and colour here from Deptford and London. All, however, is, I think, going towards good with us in the work. Mr. T. is prepared to spend a good deal on the houses, with a view of raising the property ; and I hope it may be a help to us in raising the people. I hope and believe too that I and my workers are all better for


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 a certain amount of difficulty, and unpopularity ; and that it tests them, and draws them together. In these days when benevolence is popular, I think we may be thankful to have difficulty to surmount. All my workers have stood to their guns splendidly, and have been so helpful too.

14 Not. Pl., W., November 23rd, 1885.

We have been having much busy and interesting work of various kinds. No. 8 B. Ct. has been handed over to us in an awful state of dirt and dilapidation, and we are busy with estimates and workmen. Miss J.’s new houses in Southwark will be ready at Xmas ; and the company which owns the new blocks there have made repeated application to us to manage for them. Miss J. seems inclined to get a group of workers round her, and do this. . ..

The Hampstead Heath meeting was in some respects satisfactory. . . . Still the money needed is so large, and only the Met. Bd. can do it, and there isn’t a sign they will ; so I have next to no hope, or rather expect something to turn up, if success is to come. ... I have been more successful than I at one time feared about the dilapidation money at Pn. Street ; but it is still bad enough. ... I am just back from Deptford. I really do think it is getting on. . . . The houses are filling slowly. We are getting much more local co-operation. . ..

I dined at Lord Hobhouse’s on Friday. Mr. Ghose, an Indian gentleman, and his wife were there.


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 Mr. Ghose’s brother is standing for Deptford. Lord H. says he would not have a chance with a middle-class or rich constituency ; but that there is a strong feeling among the working men that he ought to get in. . . . We have a group of co-operators, who have taken Miss Y.’s hall for a monthly gathering. The tenants’ plays, one for grown up people and two for children, are in full swing.

Casa Coraggio, Bordighera, December 10th, 1885.

Thank you for your sweet birthday letter. . . . To-night we are having some charades in honour of Mr. MacDonald’s birthday. The house is large and full and happy, and I think very good for Edmund. To-day we have rain.

It is strange they prophesied rain yesterday, in consequence of a practice, or rather sham fight, of the French men-of-war. We heard a violent noise at dinner yesterday ; and, going up to the loggia to discover the cause, we saw seven large men-of-war. They said they were 5 miles off, and that they often went out from some bay near Cannes, where they spend the winter, to practise firing. We could see them all confused in the smoke, and the great heaving mass of water somehow caused by the firing.

The MacDonalds are getting up all manner of Christmas things, among others a series of sacred tableaux ; they say the peasants come from far and near to see them.

The little Octavia is a sweet child. It is very touching to see Mrs. MacDonald with her, and also to see young Mr. Jamieson’s widowed house, with all the


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 First on the Stage, drag am'rous Charley forth Of stolid countenance in mirth or wrath, Whose blue bagged jowl proclaims his boasted tree, The Dead sea fruit of bastard ancestry;— Clever to "tip the silk" give double thong Or chalk out cherubs a là Mittagong—— This pilot, England's choice, to guide the helm Corrupt a people and confound a realm, Where Nature's gifts were all that man could have, Each stream Pactolus, Commerce on the wave, Wise were such choice, did wine and wassail bring The attributes pertaining to a King; Wise were the choice, did ignorance decree Weal, worth, and blessing to posterity; Wise is the choice, blind mortals slow to know, Where foulest sewer, the richest crop must grow; Virtue and Justice prove etceteras here Where vice is rampant, Wisdom sheds a tear.— Unhappy Land! where every post is sold Where wives work wonders, woman versus gold, Where lust and passion find an easy prey, For mothers pander for a mouster's pay; Husbands devour the bread that beauty buys,— Oh! drop the veil o'er past atrocities— As Fouché spoke of some voluptuous halls Those deeds, re-echo our vice-regal halls As o'er Pompeian stews 'neath sign of brass Be blazoned here ("hic habet felicitas")— Oh look around, where this mis-govern'd land Shews, labor lost, engraved on every hand, Should any pile rear loftier roof on high There spilt the blood of convict dynasty— Now Farmers-General vegetate at ease, The driv'ling dotards but increase their fees, Lessen the lustre of Great Britain's name, While virtue blushes, deepest blush of shame; The land were happy with no farther harm, Nor envy we the ordure of their farm——. Glorious achievement of two lustrums peace

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 Raised six score ducks and half a hundred geese, Well pampered ease its golden eggs may hoard Geese throng around, as well as on the board— If in tradition there be truth at all Here's the right stuff to save the Capitol Nor our fierce Yeomen and brave Vulunteers Anticipate a grateful nations tears, Unborn the Rooshuns Sydney rifles kill And troopers charged but in their tailor's bill Oh blazes? 'twere a goodly sight to see The town turn out its troops of Cavalry All daring riders on their lamp-post steeds Both man and horse unique in divers breeds, The moustache movement proves the only one The gallant Yeomanry has ever done——— When Rooshans come; shall follow Polar bears The shaggy races will descend in pairs And make reprisals on some stormy day On Perouse monument, in Botany Bay— Well did Macdonald (ere he cut) foresee, On that dread day a bloodless victory, The parole "sauve qui peut" proclaims their fate, The troopers rally round the turnpike gate; The pikeman opens, (tipped with ample pay), And running Riflemen point out the way.

Pass Vizier Deass who with aspect mild Could charm a servant or beguile a child, Low cunning was your forte; yea, 't is confest, Experience colonial forged you best, Amid the sneaks who pandered to the chief To court a courtesan or cloak a thief— All selfish interest thine,—I've yet to know What you have done without quid pro quo? From earliest times when gifts of early purl Poured on each mistress in delightful whirl, To when the more sedate and crafty Turk Sacked his Zenana to embrace a Bourke— For such as thou I have no time to spare

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 daily now. I have such nice expeditions to Dulwich, I go over the fields, and now the leaves are coming out it is most lovely.

Minnie and I never sing here now at all, we haven't time.

March 27th, 1859.

I really could not write last Sunday. I am now writing in the lovely early morning, before setting off to go to the eight o'clock Communion service at Lincoln's Inn. We shall think of you both. … I have nearly finished the cloud I have been copying at Dulwich, and am anxiously expecting Ruskin's criticism on it. You know I am going to Normandy on or about the 16th; fortunately I do not yet realise it, except as a point before which certain works must be done and preparations made; but when I am fairly off I suppose I shall believe it; and not until then. I think you would be very much interested in some of my drawing pupils. One little boy, James, is my great favourite. He is ten years old, and tells me he has lived in Worcestershire until last September; but he is not like a country child, he is so intelligent. He has bright beautiful eyes, and I like to see his queer little figure in his pretty white blouse waiting for me at the door. He is so earnest and interested in his drawing, and works so very hard at it, it is quite delightful to teach him. Then there is a little girl, Annie, who is now so good and attentive. I like to see her dear pretty little head, bent down over her drawing. She has a beautifully fair skin, and when I find fault with her, all her face colours; and she has large blue eyes with long lashes and soft fair hair. She hasn't special talent


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 for drawing like James, but I like her personally so much. My women are progressing surely and steadily. They're getting the right spirit and aims. I take them leaves and sprays to show them their beauties and teach them their names. … I am reading the first volume of "Modern Painters." I thought you would like to look at these pictures in the light of his words. … I am so very much wrapped up in my drawing I seem to think of little else; and yet I do manage somehow to remember and dwell on a great deal besides. I often think of you both.

103, Milton Street, April 3rd, 1859.

I have been suffering with severe pains in my back, but else I am quite well and I hope Normandy will set me up in health. It will seem very strange to you, but I dread it. I have been working so long, I don't feel as if I knew how to stop. I am afraid I shall be in everyone's way, and do everything awkwardly and ill. Mary will forgive me however. Dear Mary! Mrs. Harrison writes that she is looking forward to my visit most eagerly; and she thinks it will do her a great deal of good.

You will know how thankful I am that we shall stay in this dear little home. I need not tell you how kind everyone is, you know they always were, but it seems to me as if people even increased in kindness wherever I go, from the old man who takes care of the pictures at Dulwich, and brings me his first wallflowers and spray of sweet-briar, to Mr. Maurice's ready advice; poor and


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 You've left the land, and where, none know nor care Stop where you are, 'twill be Australia's gain Your pension pilfer, don't come back again.—

What modern Œdipus the riddle solves That riddle on whose con the weight devolves, To raise or lower the steelyard of the state To ink to Zero or to raise it Great:— Cold sweats 'tis said reduced him two stone less Since Cowper's motion plunged him in a mess— Had he but kept to cutlets and small beer With tongue fast fettered, he had nought to fear But mad ambition and the greed for gain Have proved at once his antidote and bane— He too be pensioned for his work and worth, Of such live stock may Sydney have a dearth— A wondrous digit is that number nine; In mystic circle or the magic line Others than Wizard of the North divine That 6 inverted still is number nine; But when applied to bonded eau de vie A light clears up a seeming mystery, 'Tis true yet strange that wonders never cease From herbe of Holloway to Bruin's grease The simples' virtue and the pure supply Like statesman Riddle, turn out "all my eye," And "Betty Martin" Martin great in song— Who solved this riddle?—Profits Dan and Long.

The cork is drawn the Treasurer's bottled lore Now pours in bumpers from his cellar'd store Old classic cribs are conjured from the dust But countless folios won't remove the rust, Spell, Spout, and splutter for your hireling clan Your peroration ends where you began——

Haste dummy Stirling quick your harness doff Ere upstart Denison should lug it off (But little wisdom Downing-street I fear Translates this quondum Gaoler-General here

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text: Index:For the Liberty of Texas.djvu

title: Index:For the Liberty of Texas.djvu


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 rich, learned and unlearned, old foe and new friend seem to help us; when I am good and humble and walk home watching the sunset or rooks' nests against the night sky, I often repeat the Magnificat and think thankfully of all people's kindness. Sometimes I look back thro' the strange long years and trace the growth of things and people. Then, dears, I think of you both.

Via della Scala, April 5th, 1859.

You ask me if there is any danger for English at Florence. Everyone says that as long as the English minister is here, we are perfectly safe; but, if England takes any decided part in the war, if the minister goes, and it is not safe for the English to remain, they will be ordered to go, and a certain time allowed them; but people seem to think it very unlikely. … There is a great deal of excitement among the Italians, and a great deal of fine feeling. I heard an anecdote the other day which pleased me very much, particularly as it was about a Leghorn boatman, which I had always thought to be the most horrid class possible. There were two young men volunteers, who had to cross in a boat to go somewhere; on landing, they gave the boatman 5 pauls; he still held out his hand; they thought he was not contented, and gave him a Napoleon; he continued to hold out his hand, "What is it?" they said.—"Take your money back," he replied. "I never have taken any from volunteers, and hope never to do so; but if you would shake hands with me, I should like to shake hands with any one who is going to fight for Italy."


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 No rivets here, no iron to rust the soul Despite of despot or his chains control)—— Erst rummy Lord of Stills, Church, Infant lands Why trust your footing on these vile quicksands Where weight of M. C. only sinks you deep In mire you wade, but have not strength to leap? Go; learn the fable of the Bull and Frog Ye worthy worshippers of Guildhall Gog

Alas! unlike the worthy plodding soul, Who chased, in harness down the fleeting gaol,— As eager youth pursued the Iris bound, The more he searched, more distant it was found, Lithgow; full well performed your thankless part Your sole reward, a sound and honest heart, That gladsome conscience, deeds not words impart,— Let seasons roll; when history begin And rumour trumpets every heinous sin When all embezzlement is blazon'd broad Your firm integrity shall fame record; When bribes were barbed and virtuous, vilest deeds A rara avis midst a herd of thieves—— May happy age succeed unblemished youth, And Fortune's favors once repay the truth.——

See him of aspect dire and haughty gait As though himself were a triumvirate, Who dreams of honors, forges Bomerang screws And wakes in anger Camõens lofty muse Who damns the language that cooked such rhyme (To spoil the Lusiad were a heinous crime:) Your childish choler but provokes a sneer, And makes you small, the very smallest beer,

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 things Grace made and did. ... I try not to think too much of you all, and of all the things at home, but you will realise how much my heart turns to England. However, I mean to have a really good holiday. It is very restful here, at once very home-like, and yet with no duties. MacDonald’s bright faith and sweet sympathy are beautiful ; and I must say Mrs. MacDonald’s way of gathering people in is delightful to me.

Casa Coraggio, December 16th, 1885.

I have been longing to write to you. I have been away to Mentone and Nice. I had a delightful visit to Lady Ducie ; she was so sweet, looks much better, and seemed so very glad to see me. She has a little basket carriage and two little ponies, and she took me the most beautiful drive all along by those lovely bays of the blue, clear Mediterranean, with their olive and cypress set slopes of cliff and promontory, and beautiful waves breaking against the rocks. . ..

All is very peaceful and good here, and the spirit of the house quite beautiful. Last night MacDonald read aloud to us one of Hawthorne’s stories ; it was so very beautiful. I think it might do to read at Christmas. He has given me the book. But it would lose a good deal in losing his reading ; and perhaps some of you will have thought of something better. Oh ! to think of the delight of finding you at home, when I come back, and the blessed Christmas time. I shall be much happier about Minnie for having seen her, and I like to think of her here. ... I often think of Florence and how she would rejoice in the beauty.


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 With Sisyphic attempts Fame's temple try No niche is there for eccentricity——— High roads Colossus once was yours the power To move each bullock team as coach and four. Why did you fail, when yours the ironed man To make the "high hills hop" as hop'd "Bashan?" Go grave your maps, in survey you succeed Where praise is worthy, let me grant the meed, Thousands of men and money shout for land But here as elsewhere work is at a stand.—

Let Customs Chief sedately take his place, Midst waning moon-calves shew one gibbous face, 'Tis true no Pylian's mantle did descend To guide his eloquence, his peers defend, But cast amid this heterogeneous race, A man midst Chimpanzees—quite out of place— He does his work sans peur et sans reproche And dont embezzle to display a coach.—

What umbrella major now appears And takes his seat quite overcome by fears? What pale timidity sits on his brow As though his heart anticipates a row Clever to plead for place, or lick a plate To cough in Council, or to clean a grate, From lowest grade this Magnate's riz so high He quite forgets his proud antiquity.— Tried every post he now the master rules And misdirects the foolery of fools—— Hoard up your money while 'tis easy earned No distant day, the tables must be turned.—

See Pinchgut member fumble at the door In case his comates aint gone in before A precious mull he made the other day To vote by accident the other way,—— How ludicrous the nod, the beck, and wink Come here, "no there," "'tis right fornent, I think;"

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 Belay at Bellamy’s, imbibe the cheer, The only sort you’ll ere call forth I fear; Your flunkey stepson hover on your wake, And flush your intellect with ale and cake; Port Curtis Barataria missed your rule And Sancho Panza mounts again his mule—

Oh “cloud Capt.” Brownne, oh, passim H.H.B. What Demon tempted me to scribble thee? Oh! whipper-in at tail of every hound Where’er the carcase, you are surely found,— Ships mate yourself, a mate you found at sea, That one bright gleam reveals thy history, Proclaims the interest vested in the land Your step-sire’s mantle must on you descend— Dead Reck’ning proves the acme of your skill While living Immigrants your pockets fill,— Why Sydneyites so long can harbor thee Looms in my mind a sorry mystery.——

Supreme Attorney, oracle of law I fain a veil would o’er your portrait draw Those shrivelled features, indices of brain Pronounce, that Bigotry will prove your bane, The Jesuits cunning dictates every move And Roman tramples on the Sydney Cove—— Great J.P. architect, be warned, beware, Who live by logic, need to split a hair Your Magistrates, the benches well adorn Curs, caitiffs, cuifs, a byeword and a scorn.— ’Tis true some read, some write, or drink or swear All barter justice, where all tip is fair The master grinds the man—’tis snob prevails E’en Jilks would fail to regalateregulate [sic] the scales.— Homage to beauty and to talent’s due From Irish Judges and Attorney’s too, Whether on stage or at drop scene they act More pride of place were meet (a stubborn fact) Than panegyric pen at any price, Or keep a hostile for a cantatrice.——

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text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/523

Laws Regarding Animals on a Holiday

דינים הנוהגים בבהמות ביום טוב

Paragraph 1 - We remove flies that are stuck on an animal, even though this creates a wound.

סעיף א - מסירים זבובים הנתלים בבמה, אף על פי שהן עושין חבורה.

Paragraph 2 - We do not comb an animal with a fine comb on a holiday because this removes hair.

סעיף ב - אין מגרדין בהמה במגרדת ביום טוב, מפני שמשרת שער.

Paragraph 3 - We do not deliver an animal on a holiday, but we assist it by holding the newborn such that it does not fall on the ground, blowing in its nose, and putting the teat into its mouth.

סעיף ג - אין מילדין בהמה ביום טוב, אבל מסעדין אותה, שאוחז בולד שלא יפל לארץ ונופח לו בחטמו ונותן לו דד לתוך פיו.

Paragraph 4 - If an animal spurns its newborn, it is permitted to sprinkle (meaning to pour) the water of the after-birth on it and put salt in her womb so that she will have mercy on it. It is forbidden to do this for an impure animal. Rem"a: And see above chapter 246 paragraph 3 in the Rem"a's note regarding whether a man is commanded to let his animal rest on a holiday.

סעיף ד - בהמה שרחקה ולדה, מתר לזלף (פרוש, לשפך) מי שליתה עליו ולתן מלא אגרוף מלח ברחמה כדי שתרחם עליו, אבל הטמאה אסור לעשות לה כן. הגה: ועין לעיל סימן רמ"ו סעיף ג' בהגה אם אדם מצוה על שביתת בהמתו ביום טוב.

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text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/524

A Few Things Forbidden on a Holiday

כמה דברים האסורים ביום טוב

Paragraph 1 - We do not climb a tree, ride on an animal, swim in water, slap the hand on the thigh, clap hands, dance, make legal judgmenets, get engaged, get married, divorce, perform a levirate marriage, do halitzah, make a herem vow, or separate trumah or tithes. Rem"a: Regarding redeeming the first born, the rule on a holiday is the same as the rule on Shabbat. See above in chapter 339 paragraph 4.

סעיף א - אין עולין על גב אילן, ולא רוכבין על גב בהמה, ולא שטין על פני המים, ולא מספקין להכות כף על ירך, ולא מטפחין להכות כף על כף, ולא מרקדין, ולא דנין, ולא מקדשין, ולא כונסים, ולא מיבמים, ולא מגרשין, ולא חולצין, ולא מקדישין, ולא מחרימין, ולא מפרישין תרומה ומעשרות. הגה: ''ודין פדיון הבן, כדינו בשבת כך דינו ביום טוב. ועין לעיל סימן של"ט סעיף ד'.''

Paragraph 2 - One who is dangerously ill and will leave the world soon is permitted to divorce, even on Shabbat.

סעיף ב - שכיב מרע דתקיף לה עלמא טובא, שרי לגרש אפלו בשבת.

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Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/525

The Laws of Lending on a Holiday

דין הלואה ביום טוב

Paragraph 1 - A loan made on a holiday can be claimed (and see above chapter 307 paragraph 11).

סעיף א - הלואת יום טוב נתנה לתבע בדין (ועין לעיל סימן ש"ז סעיף י"א).

Paragraph 2 - The charity collectors may collect from the yards on a holiday, but they should not make announcements as are made during the week. Rather, they should collect quietly, put it in their bag, and distribute it to each neighborhood individually.

סעיף ב - גבאי צדקה גובין מהחצרות ביום טוב, אבל לא יכריזו כדרך שמכריזין בחל, אלא גובין בצנעה ונותנים לתוך חיקם ומחלקים לכל שכונה ושכונה בפני עצמה.

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 Pronounced just as you please, but it will rhyme In Sydney dialect and ding-dong chime.—— For shame! for shame! good Cuthills name refuse And brand “The Foundlings” the itinerant muse Euphonious is the name of Tommy B. Euphonious his colonial history Chief Justice and Chief Miller thick as thieves Antithesis of our antipodes.—

Solicitor “ethereal mildness come,” ’Tis sweet from out the d——d to rescue some, Your foibles are weak man’s, ’t were painful praise To hold you honest in these golden days, When honesty’s reward is Fortune’s frown, So trite the fact it has a proverb grown, ’Tis strategy, not strength, that lands the trout, All cut, like Poleaxe but—they’re not found out. You’re rather prosy, full stop, and hum drum, A trifle that besides your comrade’s mum, Ryan’s happy answer, written on your heart, Shows repartee may sometimes good impart, Your tongue be tempered, nor o’eract in farce, He heaves no stones, whose house is built of glass—

So now I’ve handled all the hireling hacks, (Fine steel heeds not the harness on their backs) I’ll wipe the blade o’er every peltry loon And speak to Speaker in his proper tune—— Look where he sits ensconced in ample chair, A jackal silent in a lion’s lair—— ’Tis by the gross that nature breeds such things, Insects of even that have cast their wings, All, all alike, without a plume to soar, But armed with weapons, sharp to sink them lower, Tho’ versed in all, being no detective spy, Some secrets I will spare publicity,

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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Burne-Jones, Edward Coley


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cuttance, Roger


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 “Sat me lusisti,” in some evil hour Creature of fortune; you, may well feel her power— Cyclopian Goneworth, Sydney’s godlike man Who chaos banished, when her day began, You have have had yours—as every dog enjoys, Till hunger’s sated and the carrion cloys— I’ll not be personal, nor say one word Of fiction, no, nor of the facts I’ve heard— Posterity’s hall judge your vaunted deeds Told oft and hopeless as are penance beads, The “bloody head,” as Darling left the shore, Can’t smear your conscience, ’twas but bellock’s gore, Revenge were cowardly that woman scares, But craft, not courage, is the game of bears, Oh! changeling soul, oh selfish renegade, You’d sell your country and yourelf degrade— Eschew the past, vice-regal vices ape Thersites, crooked in thy ways as shape— Fair Norfolk Isle, the climate of thy birth For ever chain thee to thy native hearth— Look on this picture “useless Highland boors,” See, now the gillies urge him o’er the moors, The wornout debauchee, now knows their worth Did they know his he’d get a pleasant berth, “Wine bibber,” look, lest you o’erlesp the goal, “Thou dog in forehead, but a hart in soul”

Show, noisy charlatan, thy “gig lamp” face, Thy hearers titillate with low grimace While Sawney saws and ribald jests you try, Each joke, a type of Scotch vulgarity, As bad’s the best—I grant you first in nouse Most learned, Rev. Doctor in the House To pec or speculate with you the same, Both rant and banter seem a winning game. In all the phases of your past career,

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96 had a narrow escape, and you may thank my powerful medicines for it, especially my taxacorum puffinalis; that's better than a blacksmith's bellows for building up a man. To whom were you talking before you came to your senses? Somebody was lying on your chest, and you were imploring him to get off. Who was it?'

'If it was not Timour the Tartar, Doctor, it must have been ——,' and I mentioned the name of another great conqueror.' He fell on my breast at the close of the battle, and his enemies nicked at him with their swords and lances as they passed by. I got a few good cuts and stabs as I lay under him, but the weight of his murderous carcase nearly killed me.'

'I think it did, and no wonder,' said the Doctor. 'Your whole body was completely mangled, and your breast-bone badly fractured. I never saw such a sight in my life; and as for your outcries, why, as I have been informed, Alexander the Great condescended to pause in one of his grand charges, and ask who it was that was being butchered like a pig. I have that hero whom you mentioned (great Emperor as he calls himself) in the hospital now, and he roars and groans more than any poor soldier there. How did you come to be in that battle? You are not a soldier; you did not die in the world above; you are not one of us.'

'The Demon, sir, or Artabanzanus, which he says is his proper name, took me to see the grand review in his artillery wagonette, drawn by twenty-four gigantic negroes, for whom my very heart bled. A friend, a General, too, to whom the Demon had previously introduced me, calling him Astoragus, got into the dickey by some means, and stung me with his finger at the back of my neck out of pure spite. His master, who had declared that no larrikin should dare to play a trick on him, with his tail hurled him out over my head. He fell with a crashing scramble amongst the


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Rh negroes, who all took fright, and ran away with the speed of cannon-balls, and took our carriage with them, in spite of the Demon's roars to the contrary, into the thickest of the battle. He was flung out; I saw him flying through the air like an enormous grasshopper, and he fell on a gun at the foot of a pillar, with the inscription upon it "To glory." I was crushed in the ruins of the carriage, and do not know how I escaped instant death.'

The Doctor sat quietly listening to my story, puffing out thick clouds of smoke. When I had finished he stared at me for some time in silence.

At length he spoke.

'It is a great wonder certainly that you were not killed outright. But how on earth did you get down here? It is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of—a living man to come here without having died, and expect to go back again—for that, I believe, is your expectation?'

'It is,' said I. 'The Demon, who took me by surprise on the shore of the Great Lake in Tasmania, and brought me here against my will in a gigantic balloon, promised to take me back again.'

'What!' said the Doctor, 'was he prowling about so far off? Tasmania is a place many thousands of miles to the south of Cape Horn, isn't it? Or is it off the coast of Spitzbergen? I never heard of it before.'

I explained to the worthy Doctor the true position of our beloved little island, and answered a great number of questions respecting its history, and that of the whole world, of which he was profoundly ignorant. At last his thoughts returned to the place where we then were.

'I suppose,' said he, 'that this Demon, or Artabanzanus, as he calls himself, and he generally adds proudly Emperor of the World, took you to the first or sensual department of his own palace?'


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98 'Yes sir,' I answered, 'he did, and a very remarkable and attractive palace it is, too.'

The Doctor laughed: his laugh was loud, pleasant, and musical; but at present he seemed to labour under some constraint. He spoke in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard, and looked about him nervously now and then.

'And did he introduce you to his charming, fascinating daughter Bellagranda, whom I take the liberty of calling "Old Cly"?'

'He did not introduce me to her, but she did not fail to introduce herself to me; but why do you call her " Old Cly," Doctor?'

'How old do you think she is?' he asked.

'About eighteen. She looks very young; and at first I thought her very sweet and innocent.'

'That lovely girl, as you thought her,' said the Doctor, is two thousand and fifty years of age. She is the celebrated Clytemnestra, the wife of Agamemnon, whom she murdered with a hatchet while he was trying to put on a tunic the sleeves of which she had sewn up.'

'Gracious and merciful powers! you don't say so, Doctor?' I exclaimed in horror and consternation.

'I do,' he replied calmly: 'but tell me more of your adventures.'

'She made love to me, Doctor.'

'And you did to her: you kissed her, and promised to marry her, and vowed eternal constancy, truth, and all the rest of it, I have no doubt.'

'No upon my honour, I would not let her kiss me; I pushed her away, and refused point-blank to marry her.'

'You did well; you acted like a brave and a strong man. Did she show you her black dogs?'

'Yes; she drilled them in my presence, and told me


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


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Rh that, if I persisted in my refusal to marry her, I should be one of their number within twelve hours.'

'You would be one soon if you did marry her; all those dogs were her husbands once, and private secretaries to her dear papa, as she calls him. I fortunately escaped her snares, on account of the strength of a previous attachment, a long-standing affection, which nothing can destroy or weaken. I hope you thought of your lawful wife at home when Bellagranda sat on your knees.'

'I did not say she sat on my knees, Doctor.'

'No, you kept it back, but I know she did: she sat on mine, and kissed me, too, before I could prevent her; but I made her beg my pardon on her knees. I upset her, throne and all, on her own hard floor, and kicked her dogs, in spite of her threats, into the fire. The consequence is, that I am the only one who can manage her: her papa flies from her sometimes like a thief before a bloodhound. But give me some more of your history.'

I accordingly gave him a full account of what I had seen and what I had endured in the Department of Pleasure in the Demon's city, winding up with my lamentable and undignified adventure in the voluptuous couch of Astoragus.

'Ah, I remember!' he replied; 'you mentioned that ruffian before. I am astonished that the cunning Demon should have trusted you to the tender mercies of Astoragus so soon. Age is telling upon him, or he is going off his head; whether or not, he is sure to overreach himself in the long-run. There is not a more malicious toad or vampire in the whole city than that same Astoragus. The Demon knew very well what would be the upshot of that fine couch, and I have no doubt that he saw how quickly you shot up from the thing, and he had a roaring laugh at you. And Astoragus must be made a general forsooth—General of the Larrikin Guards! He found you out, too, while the battle was going


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cuttinge, Francis


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100 on. I expect his kind master will bring him here soon, and order me to boil him in sulphuric acid, or some other devilish compound. I must settle the incurable scamp once for all if he is brought to me; and, between ourselves, I only wish I could settle his master as easily; but he is too cunning too strong, and has too much supernatural power for me: but I may outwit him yet. I never think of the horrible fiend without swearing and cursing in the most fearful manner to myself, and I do not know why he is permitted to exist, and to do all the mischief he does. He is, without exception, the greatest liar, the most abominable deceiver, and the biggest robber and murderer, that ever walked upon the earth, or sailed through the air in a lightning-car. I can't tell why he was ever begotten or born, unless it was to try the children of men, to ascertain whom they are willing to serve. If so, it is a hard trial for them, that they should be exposed to the temptations of a remorseless ruffian, who would think no more of blowing us all into the eternal fire of the sun itself than he does of blowing his own nose.'

A loud 'Hem!' here interrupted the eloquence of the irascible Doctor, for whose safety I began to tremble. We both turned in dismay; and there, in the middle of the room, his Field-Marshal's uniform flying about him in ribbons, stood our great enemy himself.


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


text: Artabanzanus/Chapter 7

title: Artabanzanus/Chapter 7


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cwichelm


text:
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Imperial Majesty the Emperor of the World did not come alone. He grasped by the collar of his long cloak, which, like his master's, now hung in tatters about his person, my especial friend, Astoragus of the luxurious couch.

'Glad to see you, my lord Demon—I mean your Majesty,' said the Doctor with great coolness; 'we were just talking about that incurable villain Astoragus, who I see is a safe prisoner in your royal hands.'

'Oh, were you?' growled the Demon huskily.

'Yes, sir, we were; my young friend here, who has marvellously recovered from the fearful injuries sustained in your late battle of the justly infuriated nations, thanks to the potency of my wonderful drugs, especially to——'

'Hold!' roared the Demon in a terrible voice; 'I came not to hear you praise your abominable physic to the skies which you are never tired of doing; I came to command you——'

'To take every care of this gentleman, sir? Yes, I am doing that; I have cured him, I have brought him back to life, I have given him a taste for existence which he never felt before; I have talked to him about the charms of your


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cybi


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cynegils


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102 beautiful city, your gold, your castles, your kindness; have I not, Mr. —— But I believe I have forgotten to ask him his name,' said the Doctor with animation.

'His name is Ubertus,' said the Demon loftily, and with the air of a patron. 'He is the owner of the mountain on which lies the Great Lake of Tasmania, and the proprietor of all the fish.' (It need not be said that this was wholly untrue.)

'Mr. Ubertus,' continued the Doctor, 'has been giving me an account of an extraordinary luxurious couch, which he had the pleasure of lying upon at the corner of a street, and in consequence thereof I expected you to come every moment with Astoragus.'

'Oh, did you?' said the Demon sharply.

'Yes, sir, I did,' answered the unabashed Doctor, 'and I have the irons hot; shall I operate on his eyes?'

'No!' roared the Demon; 'I have sworn by the fire-tipped spear of my favourite minister Giovanni Maria, who used to course the streets of Milan at midnight with bloodhounds, that I'll boil him in the venom of crotalus horridus' (rattlesnake) 'and rackarock, and I'll get you to do it.'

'Very well, sir,' said the Doctor coolly; 'I'll do it.'

'And you won't mind his howls?'

'Not at all, sir; they'll be music to my very soul.'

Then here he is—hold him fast; if he escapes you will have some trouble to find him again. He has a particular talent, or genius, for turning himself into a flea, and I shall not wonder if he eludes even a clever man like you, while you are looking for him as a flea, by quietly slipping away from you. Put your spell upon him at once.'

'It is done already, sir; he is fixed. May I ask you, my gracious Sovereign, why, in the plenitude of your wisdom, you ever thought of appointing a fellow like him to be the General of your Larrikin Brigade?'


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cynewulf


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


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Rh 'Ask me no questions, Doctor,' replied the Demon, 'and I'll tell you no—— You know the rest. As for this fellow, as soon as you have boiled him well, he shall be publicly drummed out of my army. I offered Ubertus the privilege of beating the drum on that occasion, and he said he would do so with the greatest possible pleasure.' (This was untrue.)

'I understand, sir,' said the Doctor, giving me a significant glance, 'I believe you implicitly, my lord; I shall certainly boil him according to your wish, and let you know when he can be put through the ceremony of drumming out; but I fear my friend Mr. Ubertus will not be able to beat the drum for some time yet.'

'I want Ubertus to come with me now,' said the Demon emphatically. 'He has been with you long enough—too long, I fear, for all the good he is likely to learn from you, but which I thank my stars I can counteract. In another week he returns to the place he came from; but you need not be sorry for that, we shall see him again soon.'

'I beg your pardon, my lord,' replied the Doctor, 'he cannot go just yet. He is not by any means restored to health; in fact, he is weaker than milk-and-water; it would be most dangerous to his soul and spirit, to say nothing of his precious body, to take him from my care so soon.'

'Well, if you say so, Doctor, I shall submit,' said the Demon graciously. 'Have him ready here where we are now on the eighth day from this time.'

'And, my lord Demon, if you will, with your usual goodness, pardon me once more, may I beg that you will take me with you on your next trip. You have often promised me this favour, and I have a very powerful desire to know what the world is like now, and Mr. Ubertus will introduce me to his family and friends.'