text:
On Picket Duty and Other Tales/Chapter IV

HARDLY was I settled again, when the inevitable bowl appeared, and its bearer delivered a message I had expected, yet dreaded to receive:—

"John is going, ma'am, and wants to see you, if you can come."

"The moment this boy is asleep; tell him so, and let me know if I am in danger of being too late."

My Ganymede departed, and while I quieted poor Shaw, I thought of John. He came in a day or two after the others; and, one evening, when I entered my "pathetic room," I found a lately emptied bed occupied by a large, fair man, with a fine face, and the serenest eyes I ever met. One of the earlier comers had often spoken of a friend, who had remained behind, that those apparently worse wounded than himself might reach a shelter first. It seemed a David and Jonathan sort of friendship. The man fretted for his mate, and was never tired of praising John,—his courage, sobriety, self-denial, and unfailing kindliness of heart; always winding up with, "He's an out an' out fine feller, ma'am; you see if he ain't."

I had some curiosity to behold this piece of excellence, and when he came, watched him for a night or two, before I made friends with him; for, to tell the truth, I was a little afraid of the stately looking man, whose bed had to be lengthened to accommodate his commanding stature; who seldom spoke, uttered no complaint, asked no sympathy, but tranquilly observed what went on about him; and, as he lay high upon his pillows, no picture of dying statesman or warrior was ever fuller of real dignity than this Virginia blacksmith. A most attractive face he had, framed in brown hair and beard, comely featured and full of vigor, as yet unsubdued by pain; thoughtful and often beautifully mild while watching the afflictions of others, as if entirely forgetful of his own. His mouth was grave and firm, with plenty of will and courage in its lines, but a smile could make it as sweet as any woman's; and his eyes were child's eyes, looking one fairly in the face with a clear, straightforward glance, which promised well for such as placed their faith in him. He seemed to cling to life, as if it were rich in duties and delights, and he had learned the secret of content. The only time I saw his composure disturbed was when my surgeon brought another to examine John, who scrutinized their faces with an anxious look, asking of the elder,—"Do you think I shall pull through, sir?" "I hope so, my man." And, as the two passed on, John's eye still followed them, with an intentness which would have won a clearer answer from them, had they seen it. A momentary shadow flitted over his face; then came the usual serenity, as if, in that brief eclipse, he had acknowledged the existence of some hard possibility, and, asking nothing, yet hoping all things, left the issue in God's hands, with that submission which is true piety.

The next night, as I went my rounds with Dr. P., I happened to ask which man in the room probably suffered most; and, to my great surprise, he glanced at John:—

"Every breath he draws is like a stab; for the ball pierced the left lung, broke a rib, and did no end of damage here and there; so the poor lad can find neither forgetfulness nor ease, because he must lie on his wounded back or suffocate. It will be a hard struggle and a long one, for he possesses great vitality; but even his temperate life can't save him; I wish it could."

"You don't mean he must die, Doctor?"

"Bless you, there's not the slightest hope for him; and you'd better tell him so before long; women have a way of doing such things comfortably, so I leave it to you. He won't last more than a day or two, at furthest."

I could have sat down on the spot and cried heartily, if I had not learned the wisdom of bottling up one's tears for leisure moments. Such an end seemed very hard for such a man, when half a dozen worn-out, worthless bodies round him were gathering up the remnants of wasted lives, to linger on for years perhaps, burdens to others, daily reproaches to themselves. The army needed men like John,—earnest, brave, and faithful; fighting for liberty and justice with both heart and hand, true soldiers of the Lord. I could not give him up so soon, or think with any patience of so excellent a nature robbed of its fulfilment, and blundered into eternity by the rashness or stupidity of those at whose hands so many lives may be required. It was an easy thing for Dr. P. to say, "Tell him he must die," but a cruelly hard thing to do, and by no means as "comfortable" as he politely suggested. I had not the heart to do it then, and privately indulged the hope that some change for the better might take place, in spite of gloomy prophecies, so, rendering my task unnecessary. A few minutes later, as I came in again with fresh rollers, I saw John sitting erect, with no one to support him, while the surgeon dressed his back. I had never hitherto seen it done; for, having simpler wounds to attend to, and knowing the fidelity of the attendant, I had left John to him, thinking it might be more agreeable and safe; for both strength and experience were needed in his case. I had forgotten that the strong man might long for the gentler tendance of a woman's hands, the sympathetic magnetism of a woman's presence, as well as the feebler souls about him. The Doctor's words caused me to reproach myself with neglect, not of any real duty perhaps, but of those little cares and kindnesses that solace homesick spirits, and make the heavy hours pass easier. John looked lonely and forsaken just then, as he sat with bent head, hands folded on his knee, and no outward sign of suffering, till, looking nearer, I saw great tears roll down and drop upon the floor. It was a new sight there; for though I had seen many suffer, some swore, some groaned, most endured silently, but none wept. Yet it did not seem weak, only very touching, and straightway my fear vanished, my heart opened wide and took him in, as, gathering the bent head in my arms, as freely as if he had been a little child, I said,—"Let me help you bear it, John."

Never, on any human countenance, have I seen so swift and beautiful a look of gratitude, surprise, and comfort, as that which answered me more eloquently than the whispered,—

"Thank you ma'am; this is right good! this is what I wanted!"

"Then why not ask for it before?"

"I didn't like to be a trouble; you seemed so busy, and I could manage to get on alone."

"You shall not want it any more, John."

Nor did he; for now I understood the wistful look that sometimes followed me, as I went out, after a brief pause beside his bed, or merely a passing nod, while busied with those who seemed to need me more than he, because more urgent in their demands; now I knew that to him, as to so many, I was the poor substitute for mother, wife, or sister, and in his eyes no stranger, but a friend who hitherto had seemed neglectful; for, in his modesty, he had never guessed the truth. This was changed now; and, through the tedious operation of probing, bathing, and dressing his wounds, he leaned against me, holding my hand fast, and, if pain wrung further tears from him, no one saw them fall but me. When he was laid down again, I hovered about him, in a remorseful state of mind that would not let me rest, till I had bathed his face, brushed his "bonny brown hair," set all things smooth about him, and laid a knot of heath and heliotrope on his clean pillow. While doing this, he watched me with the satisfied expression I so linked to see; and when I offered the little nosegay, held it carefully in his great hand, smoothed a ruffled leaf or two, surveyed and smelt it with an air of genuine delight, and lay contentedly regarding the glimmer of the sunshine on the green. Although the manliest man among my forty, he said, "Yes, ma'am," like a little boy; received suggestions for his comfort with the quick smile that brightened his whole face; and now and then, as I stood tidying the table by his bed, I felt him softly touch my gown, as if to assure himself that I was there. Anything more natural and frank I never saw, and found this brave John as bashful as brave, yet full of excellences and fine aspirations, which, having no power to express themselves in words, seemed to have bloomed into his character and made him what he was.

After that night, an hour of each evening that remained to him was devoted to his ease or pleasure. He could not talk much, for breath was precious, and he spoke in whispers; but from occasional conversations, I gleaned scraps of private history which only added to the affection and respect I felt for him. Once he asked me to write a letter, and, as I settled pen and paper, I said, with an irrepressible glimmer of feminine curiosity, "Shall it be addressed to wife, or mother, John?"

"Neither, ma'am; I've got no wife, and will write to mother myself when I get better. Did you think I was married because of this?" he asked, touching a plain ring he wore, and often turned thoughtfully on his finger when he lay alone.

"Partly that, but more from a settled sort of look you have,—a look which young men seldom get until they marry."

"I don't know that; but I'm not so very young, ma'am; thirty in May and have been what you might call settled this ten years; for mother's a widow; I'm the oldest child she has, and it wouldn't do for me to marry until Lizzie has a home of her own, and Laurie's learned his trade; for we're not rich, and I must be father to the children, and husband to the dear old woman, if I can."

"No doubt but you are both, John; yet how came you to go to war, if you felt so? Wasn't enlisting as bad as marrying?"

"No, ma'am, not as I see it, for one is helping my neighbor, the other pleasing myself. I went because I couldn't help it. I didn't want the glory or the pay; I wanted the right thing done, and people kept saying the men who were in earnest ought to flight. I was in earnest, the Lord knows! but I held off as long as I could, not knowing which was my duty; mother saw the case, gave me her ring to keep me steady, and said 'Go;' so I went."

A short story and a simple one, but the man and the mother were portrayed better than pages of fine writing could have done it.

"Do you ever regret that you came, when you lie here suffering so much?"

"Never ma'am; I haven't helped a great deal, but I've shown I was willing to give my life, and perhaps I've got to; but I don't blame anybody, and if it was to do over again, I'd do it. I'm a little sorry I wasn't wounded in front; it looks cowardly to be hit in the back, but I obeyed orders, and it doesn't matter in the end, I know."

Poor John! it did not matter now, except that a shot in front might have spared the long agony in store for him. He seemed to read the thought that troubled me, as he spoke so hopefully when there was no hope, for he suddenly added,—

"This is my first battle; do they think it's going to be my last?"

"I'm afraid they do, John."

It was the hardest question I had ever been called upon to answer; doubly hard with those clear eyes fixed on mine, forcing a truthful answer by their own truth. He seemed a little startled at first, pondered over the fateful fact a moment, then shook his head, with a glance at the broad chest and muscular limbs stretched out before him:—

"I'm not afraid, but it's difficult to believe all at once. I'm so strong it don't seem possible for such a little wound to kill me."

Merry Mercutio's dying words glanced through my memory as he spoke:—"'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough." And John would have said the same, could he have seen the ominous black holes between his shoulders, he never had; and, seeing the ghastly sights about him, could not believe his own wound more fatal than these, for all the suffering it caused him.

"Shall I write to your mother, now?" I asked, thinking that these sudden tidings might change all plans and purposes; but they did not; for the man received the order of the Divine Commander to march, with the same unquestioning obedience with which the soldier had received that of the human one, doubtless remembering that the first led him to life, and the last to death.

"No, ma'am; to Laurie just the same; he'll break it to her best, and I'll add a line to her myself when you get done." So I wrote the letter which he dictated, finding it better than any I had sent; for, though here and there a little ungrammatical or inelegant, each sentence came to me briefly worded, but most expressive; full of excellent counsel to the boy, tenderly "bequeathing mother and Lizzie" to his care, and bidding him good-by in words the sadder for their simplicity. He added a few lines with steady hand, and, as I sealed it, said, with a patient sort of sigh, "I hope the answer will come in time for me to see it;" then, turning away his face, laid the flowers against his lips, as if to hide some quiver of emotion at the thought of such a sudden sundering of all the dear home-ties.

These things had happened two days before; now John was dying, and the letter had not come. I had been summoned to many death-beds in my life, but to none that made my heart ache as it did then, since my mother called me to watch the departure of a spirit akin to this in its gentleness and patient strength. As I went in, John stretched out both hands,—

"I knew you'd come! I guess I'm moving on, ma'am."

He was; and so rapidly that, even while he spoke, over his face I saw the gray veil falling that no human hand can lift. I sat down by him, wiped the drops from his forehead, stirred the air about him with the slow wave of a fan, and waited to help him die. He stood in sore need of help,—and I could do so little; for, as the doctor had foretold, the strong body rebelled against death, and fought every inch of the way, forcing him to draw each breath with a spasm, and clench his hands with an imploring look, as if he asked, "How long must I endure this, and be still?" For hours he suffered dumbly, without a moment's respite, or a moment's murmuring; his limbs grew cold, his face damp, his lips white, and, again and again, he tore the covering off his breast, as if the lightest weight added to his agony; yet through it all, his eyes never lost their perfect serenity, and the man's soul seemed to sit therein, undaunted by the ills that vexed his flesh.

One by one the men woke, and round the room appeared a circle of pale faces and watchful eyes, full of awe and pity; for, though a stranger, John was beloved by all. Each man there had wondered at his patience, respected his piety, admired his fortitude, and now lamented his hard death; for the influence of an upright nature had made itself deeply felt, even in one little week. Presently, the Jonathan who so loved this comely David came creeping from his bed for a last look and word. The kind soul was full of trouble, as the choke in his voice, the grasp of his hand betrayed; but there were no tears, and the farewell of the friends was the more touching for its brevity.

"Old boy, how are you?" faltered the one.

"Most through, thank heaven!" whispered the other.

"Can I say or do anything for you anywheres?"

"Take my things home, and tell them that I did my best."

"I will! I will!"

"Good-by, Ned."

"Good-by, John, good-by!"

They kissed each other, tenderly as women, and so parted; for poor Ned could not stay to see his comrade die. For a little while, there was no sound in the room but the drip of water from a stump or two, and John's distressful gasps, as he slowly breathed his life away. I thought him nearly gone, and had just laid down the fan, believing its help to be no longer needed, when suddenly he rose up in his bed, and cried out with a bitter cry that broke the silence, sharply startling every one with its agonized appeal,—

"For God's sake, give me air!"

It was the only cry pain or death had wrung from him, the only boon he had asked; and none of us could grant it, for all the airs that blew were useless now. Dan flung up the window. The first red streak of dawn was warming the gray east, a herald of the coming sun. John saw it, and with the love of light which lingers in us to the end, seemed to read in it a sign of hope of help, for, over his whole face there broke that mysterious expression, brighter than any smile, which often comes to eyes that look their last. He laid himself gently down; and, stretching out his strong right arm, as if to grasp and bring the blessed air to his lips in a fuller flow, lapsed into a merciful unconsciousness, which assured us that for him suffering was forever past. He died then; for, though the heavy breaths still tore their way up for a little longer, they were but the waves of an ebbing tide that beat unfelt against the wreck, which an immortal voyager had deserted with a smile. He never spoke again, but to the end held my hand close, so close that when he was asleep at last, I could not draw it away. Dan helped me, warning me as he did so, that it was unsafe for dead and living flesh to lie so long together; but though my hand was strangely cold and stiff, and four white marks remained across its back, even when warmth and color had returned elsewhere, I could not but be glad that, through its touch, the presence of human sympathy, perhaps, had lightened that hard hour.

When they had made him ready for the grave, John lay in state for half an hour, a thing which seldom happened in that busy place; but a universal sentiment of reverence and affection seemed to fill the hearts of all who had known or heard of him; and when the rumor of his death went through the house, always astir, many came to see him, and I felt a tender sort of pride in my lost patient; for he looked a most heroic figure, lying there stately and still as the statue of some young knight asleep upon his tomb. The lovely expression which so often beautifies dead faces soon replaced the marks of pain, and I longed for those who loved him best to see him when half an hour's acquaintance with Death had made them friends. As we stood looking at him, the ward master handed me a letter, saying it had been forgotten the night before. It was John's letter, come just an hour too late to gladden the eyes that had longed and looked for it so eagerly; yet he had it; for, after I had cut some brown locks for his mother, and taken off the ring to send her, telling how well the talisman had done its work, I kissed this good son for her sake, and laid the letter in his hand, still folded as when I drew my own away, feeling that its place was there, and making myself happy with the thought, even in his solitary place in the "Government Lot," he would not be without some token of the love which makes life beautiful and outlives death. Then I left him, glad to have known so genuine a man, and carrying with me an enduring memory of the brave Virginia blacksmith, as he lay serenely waiting for the dawn of that long day which knows no night.


text: Talk:On Picket Duty and Other Tales

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

title: Talk:On Picket Duty and Other Tales


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Lindley


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Matthew


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Mungo


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Patrick


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Patrick Aloysius


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Robert (d.1673)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Robert (1635-1725)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Terence Aubrey


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Thomas (1630?-1684)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Thomas (1663-1734)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, Thomas (1792-1872)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, William (d.1583)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, William (1600-1651)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, William (d.1746)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Murray, William (1705-1793)


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


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


text:
Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/438

v. 26- 2. Let the heavenly impeller (savitár), the bull (mahiṣá), foreknowing, join [them] at this sacrifice: hail!

3. Let Indra, foreknowing, at this sacrifice join songs and revels (ukthāmadá), the well-joined ones (?): hail!

4. The directions (prāiṣá) at the sacrifice, the notices (nivíd): hail! taught by the wives, carry ye here, joined.

5. The meters (chándas) at the sacrifice, O Maruts: hail! as a mother her son, fill ye here, joined.

6. Here hath come Aditi, with barhís, with sprinkling [waters], extending the sacrifice: hail!

7. Let Vishnu join variously the fervors (tápas) at this sacrifice, the well-joined ones: hail!

8. Let Tvashtar now join variously the forms at this sacrifice, the well-joined ones: hail!

9. Let Bhaga join now for him the blessings (āçís); at this sacrifice let him, foreknowing, join the well-joined ones: hail!

10. Let Soma join variously the milks (páyas), at this sacrifice, the well-joined ones: hail!

11. Let Indra join variously the heroisms, at this sacrifice, the well-joined ones: hail!

title: Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/438


text:
Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/439

269 12. O Açvins, come ye hitherward with worship (bráhman), with váṣaṭ-utterance increasing the sacrifice. O Brihaspati, come hitherward with worship; this sacrifice [is] heaven (svàr) here for the sacrificer: hail!

1. Uplifted becomes his fuel, uplifted the bright burnings of Agni, most brilliant; of beautiful aspect, with his son,—[2.] son of himself (tánūnápāt), ásura, many-handed,—

title: Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/439


text: Atharva-Veda Samhita/Book V/Hymn 26

title: Atharva-Veda Samhita/Book V/Hymn 26


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Cauchy, Augustin Louis

CAUCHY, kṓ'shḗ', (1789-1857). A French mathematician. He was born in Paris, and was educated at the Ecole Polytechnique. In 1810 he went to Cherbourg, in the capacity of an engineer, but his health failing, he returned to Paris in 1813, renounced engineering, and chose pure science for his life work. His Mémoire sur la théorie des ondes was crowned by the Institute in 1815, and in 1816 he became a member of the Academy of Sciences. Later he became professor at the Polytechnic School. In 1830 he refused to take the oath required by Louis Philippe, and went into voluntary exile. During his stay abroad he held for a short time the chair of mathematics in Turin, and later (1834) went to Prague as tutor of the Comte de Chambord. He returned to France in 1837, but his political views were such as to bar him from the higher professorships until the advent of the Government of 1848. In that year Cauchy was made professor of mathematical astronomy at the Sorbonne, a chair which he held, with a brief interruption, until his death. In politics Cauchy was a Legitimist. He was known as a man of piety and was a defender of the Jesuits.

The works of Cauchy occupy a leading place in science. All parts of pure and applied mathematics, as geometry, algebra, the theory of numbers, integral calculus, mechanics, astronomy, and mathematical physics, are indebted to his discoveries. He verified the periodicity of elliptic functions, gave the first impetus to the general theory of functions, contributed to determinants (q.v.), and laid the foundation for the modern treatment of the convergence of infinite series (q.v.). He emphasized the imaginary as a fundamental, not subsidiary, quantity, perfected the method of integration of linear differential equations (see ), advanced the theory of substitutions, invented the calculus of residues, and, in general, was one of the leaders of the Nineteenth Century in infusing vigor into analysis. The propagation of light and the theory of elasticity also received his attention.

Consult: Valson, La Vie et les travaux de Cauchy (Paris, 1868); Terquem, “Analyse des travaux de Cauchy,” in the Nouvelles annales de mathématiques (Paris, 1857). Les œvres completes d'Augustin Cauchy (Paris, 1882-1901) were published under the direction of the Academy of Sciences.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Caucus

CAUCUS (of uncertain origin; possibly from Med. Lat. caucus, Gk. καῦκος, kaukos, cup, as being originally an informal festal gathering). A term applied (1) to an informal meeting of the voters of a political party within a limited district for the purpose of nominating candidates for office or of naming delegates to a nominating convention, and (2) to a conference of the members of a political party in a legislative body for the purpose of determining in detail the course to be pursued by the members of the body belonging to such party. In its former application the word is said to have been derived from the “Caulkers' Club,” a political organization of some prominence in Boston during the activity of Samuel Adams (q.v.). Until within a comparatively brief period this informal meeting of voters was a well recognized and widely established feature of the American political system. In the party caucus all ‘regular’ members of the party were considered entitled to be present and to be heard. Its participants named the party's candidates for local office and determined the policy of the party in the political district from which the members of the caucus were drawn. From the caucus of a small political unit, such as the town or the Assembly district, were sent the various constituent members of a larger and similar conference representing, and acting for, the voters of a Congressional district or of an entire State. Within the past two decades the typical caucus of the past has assumed a new form through the statutory control of nominations to office, especially in the establishment of a system of so-called “primaries,” the composition and procedure of which have in several States been made the object of as detailed and specific legislative control as are the elections themselves. The informalities which earlier made possible many questionable practices in the effort to ‘capture’ a caucus have thus gradually disappeared, and have been superseded by the routine of secret balloting by the legally registered members of a party. The nominating caucus appeared also in American politics in a conspicuous form, until 1824, in the caucus of members of Congress of each party which for a couple of decades named the candidates for the Presidency and Vice-Presidency, until the system of national nominating conventions was introduced.

The second type of caucus has not only survived, but has increased in influence and has become recognized as a legitimate feature of legislative procedure. Both in local legislative bodies and also in the various State legislatures, and still more conspicuously in Congress, the members of each party participate in a caucus, by which are named the party's candidates for the offices of the body and by which are determined the lines of policy to be followed within the larger body. Such action is considered as binding not only upon all the participants in the caucus, but also upon all members of the Legislature belonging to the party holding the caucus; and very rarely do any dissentient members of

a party have the will, or the desire, to ‘bolt’ the action of their caucus.


text:
Author:John Ward (1805-1890)

Works

 * Information Relative to New-Zealand: Compiled for the Use of Colonists, 1840
 * Experiences of a Diplomatist, 1872

title: Author:John Ward (1805-1890)


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Jew of Malta, The

JEW OF MALTA, ma̤l'tȧ,. A tragedy by Marlowe, written at a date which is uncertain, but must have been subsequent to 1588. It was acted between 1591 and 1596, and was first published in 1633, edited by Thomas Heywood. Shakespeare was indebted to Marlowe's play for suggestions in the Merchant of Venice, though the plot was mainly taken from other sources.


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Jew Lizard

JEW LIZARD. An agamoid lizard of Australia, which when excited expands the pouch of its throat into the appearance of a beard: hence often called ‘bearded lizard.’


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/205

Rh its banks. We turned aside, and climbed the hill through the woods. Velvety green sprigs of dog-mercury were scattered on the red soil. We came to the top of a slope, where the wood thinned. As I talked to Emily I became dimly aware of a whiteness over the ground. She exclaimed with surprise, and I found that I was walking, in the first shades of twilight, over clumps of snowdrops. The hazels were thin, and only here and there an oak tree uprose. All the ground was white with snowdrops, like drops of manna scattered over the red earth, on the grey-green clusters of leaves. There was a deep little dell, sharp sloping like a cup, and white sprinkling of flowers all the way down, with white flowers showing pale among the first inpouring of shadow at the bottom. The earth was red and warm, pricked with the dark, succulent green of bluebell sheaths, and embroidered with grey-green clusters of spears, and many white flowerets. High above, above the light tracery of hazel, the weird oaks tangled in the sunset. Below, in the first shadows, drooped hosts of little white flowers, so silent and sad; it seemed like a holy communion of pure wild things, numberless, frail, and folded meekly in the evening light. Other flower companies are glad; stately barbaric hordes of bluebells, merry-headed cowslip groups, even light, tossing wood-anemones; but snowdrops are sad and mysterious. We have lost their meaning. They do not belong to us, who ravish them. The girls bent among them, touching them with their fingers, and symbolising the yearning which I felt. Folded in the twilight, these conquered flowerets are sad like forlorn little friends of dryads.


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/206

198 “What do they mean, do you think?” said Lettie in a low voice, as her white fingers touched the flowers, and her black furs fell on them.

“There are not so many this year,” said Leslie.

“They remind me of mistletoe, which is never ours, though we wear it,” said Emily to me.

“What do you think they say—what do they make you think, Cyril?” Lettie repeated.

“I don’t know. Emily says they belong to some old wild lost religion. They were the symbol of tears, perhaps, to some strange hearted Druid folk before us.”

“More than tears,” said Lettie. “More than tears, they are so still. Something out of an old religion, that we have lost. They make me feel afraid.”

“What should you have to fear?” asked Leslie.

“If I knew I shouldn’t fear,” she answered.

“Look at all the snowdrops”—they hung in dim, strange flecks among the dusky leaves—“look at them—closed up, retreating, powerless. They belong to some knowledge we have lost, that I have lost and that I need. I feel afraid. They seem like something in fate. Do you think, Cyril, we can lose things off the earth—like mastodons, and those old monstrosities—but things that matter—wisdom?”

“It is against my creed,” said I.

“I believe I have lost something,” said she.

“Come,” said Leslie, “don’t trouble with fancies. Come with me to the bottom of this cup, and see how strange it will be, with the sky marked with branches like a filigree lid.”


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Jewish Sects

JEWISH SECTS. A term applied to certain divergent schools of religious thought, which grew up in the midst of Judaism during the three centuries preceding the Christian Era. In this

restricted sense we have only two Jewish sects, the ../Pharisees/ (q.v.) and the ../Sadducees/ (q.v.). It should, however, be added that the adherents of these ‘sects’ not only belonged to the same religious conmiunity, but also adhered to the same practical religious law, and consequently could not well look upon each other as heretics. The Pharisees and Sadducees represent parties rather than sects, and illustrate the two tendencies of Jewish religious thought — the one emphasizing tradition and the other bringing into greater prominence the element of faith, combined, however, with theological speculation. Apart from political differences which also existed, the chief points at issue between them were certain abstract doctrines in connection with the peculiar manner in which the law, as far as it is contained in the Scriptures, was interpreted and further developed. The Pharisees claimed for certain time-hallowed observations and doctrines not found in the Bible a divine origin, tracing them back through tradition to Moses and Sinai. The Sadducees rejected the divine origin of the ‘oral law,’ as well as certain spiritual dogmas not distinctly set forth in the sacred record. More distinctly a sect were the ../Essenes/ (q.v.), who formed a kind of brotherhood, chiefly intent upon the exercise of practical virtues, and ruled by a severe code of morals. The Samaritans, earlier than either Pharisees, Sadducees, or Essenes, may also be regarded as a Jewish sect, inasmuch as they recognized merely the Pentateuch and Book of Joshua as authoritative sacred writings, established a cult of their own on Mount Gerizim (see ), and during the entire post-exilic period to the days of Jesus maintained opposition to the Jerusalem cult, and took no part in the movements that led to the establishment of Rabbinical Judaism. A remnant of them still exists at Nablus (the modern Shechem). See.

At a later period, shortly before and after Christ, numerous divergent religious doctrines, for the most part the result of a confused mixture of Judaism and Hellenism, or rather Alexandrianism, were promulgated, and found adherents both within and without the pale of Judaism. Many and obscure are the names of these ‘sects’ recorded by the early fathers of the Church, but very little is known respecting their history and dogmas.

Tn the eighth century various religious movements among the Jews led to the rise of a number of sects. These movements should be studied in connection with the contemporary religious ferment among Mohammedans, who separated about this time into several distinct schools of thought. (See .) Persia was the centre of this ferment, and there, about 750, arose a certain Obadiah ahu Isa ibn Ishak of Ispahan, who led the Jews in a revolt against the yoke of Talmudical authority, though he retained quite a number of the specifically Talmudical regulations. He adopted some of the rites and customs of Islam; and while not claiming to be the Messiah, as a certain Serenus had done some thirty years previously, to whom the movement of Abu Isa can in a measure be traced, yet did maintain that he was the forerunner of the Messiah. He incited his followers to revolt against the rule of the caliphs, and fell in battle. His followers maintained themselves as a sect up to the tenth century, known as Isavites or Ispahanites. A

little later another movement, likewise inspired by a spirit of opposition to the Talmud, began in another part of Persia under the lead of Judah Judghan of Hamadan. It attacked the anthropomorphic conceptions of the deity still current among the Jews, and in other respects represented the adaptation of the rationalistic theology advocated by the Mutazilites. (See .) Abstention from meat and wine, frequent prayers, and fasts were among the rites emphasized by Judah, whose followers maintained themselves for a long time, though they were gradually absorbed by the most successful sectarian movement of the time, and the most decided and thorough reaction against the Rabbinic spirit which claimed the same validity for Talmudic law as for biblical ordinances — i.e. Karaism. Anan ben David, a member of a distinguished family, living in Bagdad, about 765, set up a doctrine which rejected the Talmud and Midrash as the work of man, and only allowed such laws and ordinances tc be binding upon the community as resulted immediately from a simple and natural Scriptural exegesis. The sect thus founded, within an astonishingly brief period, spread over Palestine, Egypt, Greece, Spain, Syria, Tartary, the Byzantine dominions, Fez, and Morocco. The Karaites are now, however, found only in small numbers in Russian Poland, Galicia, Odessa, the Crimea, Constantinople, Jerusalem, and Alexandria. The name Karaites designates them as adherents of the Miḳra (i.e. the written), which is the essentially Jewish name of the Bible. Abrogating the ‘rabbinical’ traditions, they erected a traditional system of their own, derived from what they regarded as a strictly literal interpretation of biblical laws as they stand. Prayer, fasting, pilgrimages to Hebron, are the points of religious practice to which they pay the greatest attention. Their general conduct is even by their antagonists allowed to be of the highest moral standard. They have produced an extensive special Hebrew literature of their own, chiefly consisting of works on theology, philosophy, grammar, mathematics, astronomy, etc. Some of their principal authors are Anan (880-930), Solomon ben Jeruham (885-960), Joseph ben Abraham al Bazir (880-930), Jehudah ben Eliah Hadassi (1075-1160), Aaron ben Joseph (c.1270-1300), Jephet ben Ali (c.950-990), Eliah ben Moshe Bashiatzi (1420-91), and others.

Another sect was that founded by Sabbathai Zewi from Smyrna (1626-76), son of a rich merchant, who proclaimed himself the Messiah, and found numerous followers throughout Germany, Poland, Italy, and Holland. Sultan Mohammed IV., however, put an end to his mission by imprisoning him, and making him adopt Mohammedanism. Many of his disciples followed his example, others turned Roman Catholics — adhering withal to their former doctrines and tenets, consisting chiefly of the belief in the Messiahship of their master, a distinct leaning to the dogma of the Trinity, and the abandonment of the hope of a final return to Jerusalem under the guidance of ‘Messiah ben David.’ They put a thoroughly mystical interpretation upon the Bible, rejected unconditionally the Talmud, and extolled their special cabalistic gospel, the Zohar, above all things created. This sect did not die out until the end of the eighteenth century. Jakob Frank, their last supreme pontiff (whose more intimate

friends and followers called themselves by his name, Frankists), died, it is said, in a debtor's prison on the Rhine (1791). Another branch of the Sabbatians was organized in Salonica by Jacob Zewi Kerido (apparently the brother-in-law of Sabbathai Zewi) and his son, Berachya (c.1695-1740). Each of these claimed to be the true redeemer of Israel. Their teachings, a strange mixture of Judaism and Islam, were of a mystical character, and they are said to have favored a species of mystical free love among their followers. They retained the Jewish rite of circumcision and regarded the Song of Solomon as the highest embodiment of true revelation. This branch of the Sabbatians was known as Dolmäh or Donmäh, and a few thousand of them are said still to exist in and around Salonica.

A notable outcome of the mystical movement in Judaism are the modern Chasidim — not to be confounded with the ancient ../Chasidim/ (q.v.). They take their stand on the Cabbala, but remain ostensibly within the province of rabbinical Judaism. The sect was founded by Israel Baalshem (c.1698-1759) in Galicia. Its adherents are characterized by their wild mode of praying, contempt for any but mystical and religious science, by their belief in the miracles wrought by their temporary chiefs or saints, whose grandeur and pomp contrasts most strikingly with the simple mode of life of their flock. Constant repentance, joyfulness, disinterestedness, benevolence, peacefulness, cleanliness, and temperance are some of the chief points of the practical doctrine of this sect. They are still very numerous in Poland, Galicia, Russia, and Palestine.

In the early decades of the nineteenth century there began a movement among the Jews of Germany looking to the ‘reform’ of divine worship in the synagogues. This movement in time spread to other countries, notably the United States, and has resulted in the creation of separate ‘reformed’ synagogues and separate rituals for use in worship. The ‘Reformers,’ however, can hardly be called a sect, orthodox and reformers being rather parties within Judaism (like Pharisees and Sadducees) and representative of different tendencies that always existed in one form or the other. See the article , section Judaism of To-day. Consult: the Jewish histories of Grätz, Reinach, Lady Magnus; Jost, Geschichte des Judenthums und seiner Sekten (Leipzig, 1857-59); Schechter, Studies in Judaism (Philadelphia, 1896); Neubauer, Geschichte des Karaerthums (Leipzig, 1866).


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/207

Rh She rose and followed him down the steep side of the pit, crying, “Ah, you are treading on the flowers.”

“No,” said he, “I am being very careful.”

They sat down together on a fallen tree at the bottom. She leaned forward, her fingers wandering white among the shadowed grey spaces of leaves, plucking, as if it were a rite, flowers here and there. He could not see her face.

“Don’t you care for me?” he asked softly.

“You?”—she sat up and looked at him, and laughed strangely. “You do not seem real to me,” she replied, in a strange voice.

For some time they sat thus, both bowed and silent. Birds “skirred” off from the bushes, and Emily looked up with a great start as a quiet, sardonic voice said above us:

“A dove-cot, my eyes if it ain’t! It struck me I ’eered a cooin’, an’ ’ere’s th’ birds. Come on, sweet-hearts, it’s th’ wrong place for billin’ an’ cooin’, in th’ middle o’ these ’ere snowdrops. Let’s ’ave yer names, come on.”

“Clear off, you fool!” answered Leslie from below, jumping up in anger.

We all four turned and looked at the keeper. He stood in the rim of light, darkly; fine, powerful form, menacing us. He did not move, but like some malicious Pan looked down on us and said:

“Very pretty—pretty! Two—and two makes four. ’Tis true, two and two makes four. Come on, come on out o’ this ’ere bridal bed, an’ let’s ’ave a look at yer.” “Can’t you use your eyes, you fool,” replied


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Jewish Language and Literature

JEWISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. See.


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/208

200, standing up and helping Lettie with her furs. “At any rate you can see there are ladies here.”

“Very sorry, Sir! You can’t tell a lady from a woman at this distance at dusk. Who may you be, Sir?”

“Clear out! Come along, Lettie, you can’t stay here now.”

They climbed into the light.

“Oh, very sorry, Mr. Tempest—when yer look down on a man he never looks the same. I thought it was some young fools come here dallyin’——”

“Damn you—shut up!” exclaimed Leslie—“I beg your pardon, Lettie. Will you have my arm?”

They looked very elegant, the pair of them. Lettie was wearing a long coat which fitted close; she had a small hat whose feathers flushed straight back with her hair.

The keeper looked at them. Then, smiling, he went down the dell with great strides, and returned, saying, “Well, the lady might as well take her gloves.”

She took them from him, shrinking to Leslie. Then she started, and said :

“Let me fetch my flowers.”

She ran for the handful of snowdrops that lay among the roots of the trees. We all watched her.

“Sorry I made such a mistake—a lady!” said Annable. “But I’ve nearly forgot the sight o’ one—save the squire’s daughters, who are never out o’ nights.”

“I should think you never have seen many—unless—! Have you ever been a groom?”

“No groom but a bridegroom, Sir, and then I


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Jewish Chautauqua Society, The

JEWISH CHAUTAUQUA (shȧ-ta̤'kwȧ) SOCIETY,. Conceived and founded in 1893 by its chancellor, Dr. Henry Berkowitz, of Philadelphia, this society is modeled on the mother Chautauqua of New York. In 1897 the first assembly was held in Atlantic City, and this focusing of the work has so greatly prospered that the original session of two weeks has now been extended to three. Here the creation of departments for study and entertainment is similar to those of other Chautauquas. More than this, the influence of the society has resulted in the London ‘Jewish Study Society.’ The official organ is the Menorah Magazine of New York, and there is also an Assembly Record, published at Philadelphia, besides special series of various publications. The society was incorporated in 1899, and is administered by the following officers: a chancellor, a president, a treasurer, a secretary and director, a field secretary, a board of trustees, and an educational council. Consult: Special Series No. 7 of the Jewish Publication Society of America (Philadelphia, 1902); the Menorah Magazine (New York, since 1897); Reports of the United States Commissioner of Education.


text:
Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/209

Rh think I’d rather groom a horse than a lady, for I got well bit—if you will excuse me, Sir.”

“And you deserved it—no doubt.”

“I got it—an’ I wish you better luck, Sir. One’s more a man here in th’ wood, though, than in my lady’s parlour, it strikes me.”

“A lady’s parlour! “laughed Leslie, indulgent in his amusement at the facetious keeper.

“Oh, yes! ‘Will you walk into my parlour——’ ”

“You’re very smart for a keeper.”

“Oh, yes Sir—I was once a lady’s man. But I’d rather watch th’ rabbits an’ th’ birds; an’ it’s easier breeding brats in th’ Kennels than in th’ town.”

“They are yours, are they?” said I.

“You know ’em, do you. Sir? Aren’t they a lovely little litter?—aren’t they a pretty bag o’ ferrets?—natural as weasels—that’s what I said they should be—bred up like a bunch o’ young foxes, to run as they would.”

Emily had joined Lettie, and they kept aloof from the man they instinctively hated.

“They’ll get nicely trapped, one of these days,”said I.

“They’re natural—they can fend for themselves like wild beasts do,” he replied, grinning.

“You are not doing your duty, it strikes me,” put in Leslie sententiously.

The man laughed.

“Duties of parents!—tell me, I’ve need of it. I’ve nine—that is eight, and one not far off. She breeds well, the ow’d lass—one every two years—nine in fourteen years—done well, hasn’t she?”


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slovaks

SLOVAKS, slō-văks', the name of the Slavic inhabitants of northern Hungary. They are the descendants of the Slavs who settled on the south of the Carpathians between the Danube and the Theiss, where they maintained themselves for centuries, and in the 9th century formed the nucleus of the great Moravian empire. After the battle of Pressburg, in 907, in which this empire was overthrown by the Magyars, the Slovaks gradually fell under the yoke of the conquerors. At the present day they are scattered over most of the counties of Hungary, and in the northwestern counties they form the majority of the inhabitants. They are also found in Moravia in the districts adjoining Hungary, and in detached settlements in Lower Austria, Bukowina and Slavonia. The Slovaks possess in their own dialect a number of beautiful popular songs, collections of which have been published at different times (Pest 1823-27; Buda 1834). There is a grammar of the language by Victorin (Budapest 1878). The total number of Slovaks is about 2,500,000. Consult Copek, J., ‘The Slovacs’ (New York 1906); Seton-Watson, ‘Racial Problems in Hungary’ (London 1909). See.


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slovenes

SLOVENES, slō-vĕnes', a Slavonic people often confused with the Slovacs. Most of them are to be found in the Austrian provinces of Carinthia and Styria, although there are a few in Italy and Southwestern Hungary. They came from farther east about the 7th century, and were chiefly Christianized. They possessed a Bible and grammar in their own language, but during religious differences in the 16th century these were mostly destroyed. They are now mainly Runich in their faith. Their language is split into eight dialects. They have a lyceum at Laibach containing a choice collection of Slovene books. They number about 1,300,000. Consult Strekelj, ‘Slovenske Narodne Pesmi’ (Laibach 1895).


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slovenians

SLOVENIANS, or SLOVENES, the native name of the Slavic inhabitants of Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, the Austrian maritime territory, a narrow strip in the west of Hungary and in Venetian Friuli. By the Germans they are often called Wends or Winds. They settled in these districts toward the end of the 6th century, having migrated there from Pannonia. Christianity was introduced among them not later than the 8th century. Their land was incorporated under the name of the Windic March with the empire of Charlemagne. Out of this march were afterward formed the duchies of Styria, Carinthia and Carniola, which fell to Germany and ultimately to Austria. Their total number is about 1,300,000. The language of the Slovenians is closely allied to the Servian. (See ). It possesses some very old and valuable monuments of the Slavonic tongue. The oldest, which is at the same time the most ancient of all the Slavonic literary relics, is the Munich manuscript, of the date 957-994. written by Bishop Abraham, of Freising, in Bavaria, and consisting of three articles on religious subjects. It is printed in Kopitar's ‘Glagolitza Clozianus’ (Vienna 1836). After a long slumber the dialect was resuscitated for literary purposes in the 16th century, when several ecclesiastics brought it to a high state of development. In 1584 Bohoricz published a grammar of the language, and in the

same year there appeared a translation of the whole Bible. The best grammar is that of Kopitar (Laibach 1808). A dictionary by Jarnik and Mark was published in 1832, and collections of popular songs were published by Wraz and by Korytko in 1839. See.


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slow-Worm

SLOW-WORM, or BLIND-WORM, a limbless, snake-like lizard (Angius fragilis) of Europe which creeps about beneath dead leaves, in rotting logs, etc., in search of insects. It is 15 to 20 inches in length, smoothly scaly, brown striped and perfectly harmless.


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Slowacki, Julius

SLOWACKI, slō-vä'kē, Julius, Polish poet: b. Kremenecz, in Volhynia, 23 Aug. 1809; d. Paris, 3 April 1849. He was educated in the University of Vilna. His first work was the poetic tale ‘Hugo’; this was followed by the tragedy ‘Mindowe’ (1829); the poem ‘Mnich’ (the ‘Monk’); and the tragedy ‘Marya Stuart’ (1830); in all of which he was under the influence of Byron; but escapes from it in the ‘Ode to Liberty’; ‘Hymn to the Mother of God’; and ‘Song of the Lithuanian Legion’ (1831) . The sentiment of Polish nationality finds fullest expression in the dramatic poem ‘Kordyan’ (1834), and in the tragedy ‘Mazeppa.’ Slowacki reaches the height of his lyric power in the poem ‘In Switzerland.’ His last great work, left incomplete, was ‘King Spirit,’ which he designed to be a “legend of the ages” of Polish history. See.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Anthony


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Christopher


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


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Richard


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Thomas (d.1384)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Thomas (1737-1812)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Musgrave, Thomas (1788-1860)


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mushet, Robert (1782-1828)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mushet, Robert (1811-1871)


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Muspratt, James (1793-1886)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Muspratt, James Sheridan


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Muss, Charles


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mutrie, Martha Darley


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Myddelton, Hugh


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Myddelton, Jane


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


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


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Andrassy, Julius, Count

ANDRASSY, JULIUS, (1860–), Hungarian statesman, son of the former Minister of the Interior, was born June 30 1860. Deputy (1885), Secretary of State for the Interior (1892), Minister of the Court (1892), he became Minister of the Interior in 1906. As Minister of the Interior, as well as earlier in connexion with the language of command in the Hungarian army and against the régime of Fejervary, he maintained a severe struggle with the prime ministers Khuen-Hedervary and Stephen Tisza. In 1913 he delivered three speeches in the Hungarian Delegation against the conduct of foreign affairs, and in Parliament he opposed the plan for the centralization of the internal administration of Hungary. At the outbreak of the World War he supported the Tisza ministry, but opposed Burian, the Foreign Minister, on the Polish and the Italian questions. In 1915 he pleaded for peace, and urged a wide extension of the franchise. In 1918, as Foreign Minister, he declared the alliance with Germany dissolved, and desired to conclude a separate peace. He retired from office on Nov. 5, was returned for Miskolcz to the National Assembly in Jan. 1920 as a non-party delegate, and later became leader of the Christian National party. In 1904 he was made an associate of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, in recognition of his distinguished work as a historian.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crashaw, Richard


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


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Craufurd, Charles Gregan-


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Craufurd, Quintin


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Andree, Richard

ANDREE, RICHARD (1835-1912), German geographer (see 1.971), died at Leipzig Feb. 22 1912.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Craufurd, Robert


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Craven, Louisa


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Craven, William (1606-1697)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, David


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, Edmund Thornton


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, Lawrence


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, Robert


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, Thomas (1530?-1603)


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, William (1739?-1800)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, William (1788-1847)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawford, William (1825-1869)


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Crawfurd, Archibald


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


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


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


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Creagh, Peter


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Creagh, Richard


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


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


text:
Page:EB1911 - Volume 02.djvu/16

 sometimes “angel,” and this double sense is duly represented in the English Versions. “Angel” is also used in the English Version for  ’Abbīr, Ps. lxxviii. 25. (lit. “mighty”), for ’Elohīm, Ps. viii. 5, and for the obscure shin’ān, in Ps. lxviii. 17.

In the later development of the religion of Israel, ’Elohim [sic] is almost entirely reserved for the one true God; but in earlier times ’Elohīm (gods), bnē ’Elohim, bnē Elim (sons of gods, i.e. members of the class of divine beings) were general terms for superhuman beings. Hence they came to be used collectively of superhuman beings, distinct from Yahweh, and therefore inferior, and ultimately subordinate. So, too, the angels are styled “holy ones,” and “watchers,” and are spoken of as the “host of heaven” or of “Yahweh.” The “hosts,” Sebāōth in the title Yahweh Sebaoth, Lord of Hosts, were probably at one time identified with the angels. The New Testament often speaks of “spirits,” . In the earlier periods of the religion of Israel, the doctrine of monotheism had not been formally stated, so that the idea of “angel” in the modern sense does not occur, but we find the Mal’akh Yahweh, Angel of the Lord, or Mal’akh Elohim, Angel of God. The Mal’akh Yahweh is an appearance or manifestation of Yahweh in the form of a man, and the term Mal’akh Yahweh is used interchangeably with Yahweh (cf. Exod. iii. 2, with iii. 4; xiii. 21 with xiv. 19). Those who see the Mal’akh Yahweh say they have seen God. The Mal’akh Yahweh (or Elohim) appears to Abraham, Hagar, Moses, Gideon, &c., and leads the Israelites in the Pillar of Cloud. The phrase Mal’akh Yahweh may have been originally a courtly circumlocution for the Divine King; but it readily became a means of avoiding crude anthropomorphism, and later on, when the angels were classified, the Mal’akh Yahweh came to mean an angel of distinguished rank. The identification of the Mal’akh Yahweh with the Logos, or Second Person of the Trinity, is not indicated by the references in the Old Testament; but the idea of a Being partly identified with God, and yet in some sense distinct from Him, illustrates the tendency of religious thought to distinguish persons within the unity of the Godhead, and foreshadows the doctrine of the Trinity, at any rate in some slight degree.

In the earlier literature the Mal’akh Yahweh or Elohim is almost the only mal’akh (“angel”) mentioned. There are, however, a few passages which speak of subordinate superhuman beings other than the Mal’akh Yahweh or Elohim. There are the cherubim who guard Eden. In Gen. xviii., xix. (J) the appearance of Yahweh to Abraham and Lot is connected with three, afterwards two, men or messengers; but possibly in the original form of the story Yahweh appeared alone. At Bethel, Jacob sees the angels of God on the ladder, and later on they appear to him at Mahanaim. In all these cases the angels, like the Mal’akh Yahweh, are connected with or represent a theophany. Similarly the “man” who wrestles with Jacob at Peniel is identified with God. In Isaiah vi. the seraphim, superhuman beings with six wings, appear as the attendants of Yahweh. Thus the pre-exilic literature, as we now have it, has little to say about angels or about superhuman beings other than Yahweh and manifestations of Yahweh; the pre-exilic prophets hardly mention angels. Nevertheless we may well suppose that the popular religion of ancient Israel had much to say of superhuman beings other than Yahweh, but that the inspired writers have mostly suppressed references to them as unedifying. Moreover such beings were not strictly angels.

The doctrine of monotheism was formally expressed in the period immediately before and during the Exile, in Deuteronomy and Isaiah ; and at the same time we find angels prominent in Ezekiel who, as a prophet of the Exile, may have been influenced by the hierarchy of supernatural beings in the Babylonian religion, and perhaps even by the angelology of Zoroastrianism. Ezekiel gives elaborate descriptions of cherubim ; and in one of his visions he sees seven angels execute the judgment of God upon Jerusalem. As in Genesis they are styled “men,” mal’akh for “angel” does not occur in Ezekiel. Somewhat later, in the visions of Zechariah, angels play a great part; they are sometimes spoken of as “men,” sometimes as mal’akh, and the Mal’akh Yahweh seems to hold a certain primacy among them. Satan also appears to prosecute (so to speak) the High Priest before the divine tribunal. Similarly in Job the bnē Elohim, sons of God, appear as attendants of God, and amongst them Satan, still in his rôle of public prosecutor, the defendant being Job. Occasional references to “angels” occur in the Psalter ; they appear as ministers of God.

In Ps. lxxviii. 49 the “evil angels” of A. V. conveys a false impression; it should be “angels of evil,” as R. V., i.e. angels who inflict chastisement as ministers of God.

The seven angels of Ezekiel may be compared with the seven eyes of Yahweh in Zech. iii. 9, iv. 10. The latter have been connected by Ewald and others with the later doctrine of seven chief angels, parallel to and influenced by the Ameshaspentas (Amesha Spenta), or seven great spirits of the Persian mythology, but the connexion is doubtful.

In the Priestly Code, c. 400, there is no reference to angels apart from the possible suggestion in the ambiguous plural in Genesis i. 26.

During the Persian and Greek periods the doctrine of angels underwent a great development, partly, at any rate, under foreign influences. In Daniel, c. 160, angels, usually spoken of as “men” or “princes,” appear as guardians or champions of the nations; grades are implied, there are “princes” and “chief” or “great princes”; and the names of some angels are known, Gabriel, Michael; the latter is pre-eminent , he is the guardian of Judah. Again in Tobit a leading part is played by Raphael, “one of the seven holy angels.”

In Tobit, too, we find the idea of the demon or evil angel. In the canonical Old Testament angels may inflict suffering as ministers of God, and Satan may act as accuser or tempter; but they appear as subordinate to God, fulfilling His will; and not as morally evil. The statement that God “chargeth His angels with folly” applies to all angels. In Daniel the princes or guardian angels of the heathen nations oppose Michael the guardian angel of Judah. But in Tobit we find Asmodaeus the evil demon, , who strangles Sarah’s husbands, and also a general reference to “a devil or evil spirit,” . The Fall of the Angels is not properly a scriptural doctrine, though it is based on Gen. vi. 2, as interpreted by the Book of Enoch. It is true that the bnē Elohim of that chapter are subordinate superhuman beings (cf. above), but they belong to a different order of thought from the angels of Judaism and of Christian doctrine; and the passage in no way suggests that the bnē Elohim suffered any loss of status through their act.

The guardian angels of the nations in Daniel probably represent the gods of the heathen, and we have there the first step of the process by which these gods became evil angels, an idea expanded by Milton in Paradise Lost. The development of the doctrine of an organized hierarchy of angels belongs to the Jewish literature of the period 200 to  100. In Jewish apocalypses especially, the imagination ran riot on the rank, classes and names of angels; and such works as the various books of Enoch and

title: Page:EB1911 - Volume 02.djvu/16


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/58

Vol. IX.

, December 31st, 1880.

I have received, a moment since,. 10, 11 and 12, vol. VIII, of the Southern Historical Society Papers, for "October, November and December, 1880," containing Captain W. M. Polk's "Facts connected with the concentration" of Confederate forces before Shiloh, "April, 1862."

I am pleased to find that the Captain proposed to deal in facts, and on that basis ask him if he claims to comprise under this designation the leading portion of the paragraph he quotes from the report of Major-General Polk, bearing on a controverted point? As an interested party, who has been remorsely assailed while unconscious of such intention during a period of some twelve years, I have not only the right, but it becomes my duty, to defend myself and the gallant division I then had the honor to command against the implied defamation.


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/106

Vol. IX.

,, April 18th. 1864.

Colonel,—The following is submitted as my report of the operations of the cavalry under my command during the recent campaign in Mississippi. During the latter part of January the enemy commenced to concentrate a large force at Vicksburg, bringing large reinforcements from Memphis and above, and evacuating the Mississippi and Central railroad. To oppose this force, Jackson's division was in position as follows:

Ross's Texas brigade was guarding the Yazoo river and Mississippi Central railroad, posted at Benton. Starke's Mississippi brigade was at Brownsville, watching the crossings of the Big Black, opposite Vicksburg. Adams's brigade was moved from the vicinity of Natchez to Raymond.

About the 28th of January the enemy commenced their demonstrations up Yazoo river with their boats, and moved their cavalry up towards Mechanicksburg. Their demonstrations continued daily to the


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/202

Vol. IX.

At a Texas State Fair some four or five years since the President of the Confederate States was seen turning, with eyes bedimmed by tears, away from a picture at which he had been silently gazing. Shall we for a moment glance at this picture? It is one of McArdle's splendid battle paintings. On a canvas of five feet by eight is seen one of the wild charges in which the red battle banner of the South was borne on to victory. In the immediate foreground there is a pause in the rush; and the irregular lines to the right and left are sweeping past the magnificent group which arrests our attention. A stalwart veteran, with herculean strength, has just seized a gallant charger by the foam-flecked rein, and is turning the rearing steed beck to the rear. The mingling of emotion in the rider's mind is wonderfully depicted. The


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Angell, James Rowland

ANGELL, JAMES ROWLAND (1869–), American educationist, was born at Burlington, Vt., May 8 1869. He was a son of James Burrill Angell (d. 1916), first president of the university of Vermont and fourth president of the university of Michigan (1871–1901). He was educated at the universities of Michigan (A.B. 1890; A.M. 1891) and Harvard (A.M. 1892), and spent a year in Europe, chiefly at Berlin, and Halle. In 1913 he was appointed instructor in philosophy at the university of Minnesota. In 1894 he was called to the university of Chicago, remaining there until 1920, as assistant professor of psychology and director of the psychological laboratory, associate professor and, after 1905, professor and head of the department. He was dean of the university faculties after 1911 and acting president during 1918–9. In 1906 he was elected president of the American Psychological Association, in 1914 was exchange professor at the Sorbonne, and in 1915 was special lecturer on psychology at Columbia. After America entered the World War in 1917 he was connected with the adjutant-general's office as member of the committee on classification of personnel in the army. He was also a member of the National Research Council, serving as chairman during 1919–20. In April 1920 he was elected president of the Carnegie Corporation of New York. In 1921 he was elected president of Yale to succeed Arthur T. Hadley, resigned.

He was the author of Psychology (1904; 4th ed. revised, 1908); Chapters from Modern Philosophy (1912) and An Introduction to Psychology (1918).


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/154

Vol. IX.

, September 16th, 1864.

Major,—I have the honor to report that after leaving the Wilderness battle-field on the afternoon of the 8th of May, my brigade marched continuously and rapidly until 2 o'clock on the morning of the 9th. At 6 o'clock A. M. we resumed our march, reached Spotsylvania court-house about 12 M., and at once entrenched on the left of the road leading to Fredericksburg—our right resting on the road. Next day we moved to the left and connected with Johnson's brigade, and subsequently occupied Johnson's position, our right resting at the salient beyond the brick-kiln. That night we moved very rapidly to the support of a part of Ewell's command, but not being needed, we were ordered back to our previous position. On the 11th we were ordered still further to the left. I did not like this position, and seeing that I could get a more commanding one, and at the same time shorten the line and


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/250

 /_ g 9073957 I 4. J  “V , [V__ 5 \ ,  ,> \\, d. 1  5*   _ ,g _      T   _;_  Z in * __ ____;a__  Y 4- __ __ _"_ _ Vol. IX. Richmond, Ve., June, 1881. lo. 6. -101, of lull!! IOPII @lO\|1 M ly on. Jun n. Len BATTLE Ol’ IIBIOKO IOID-IIPOIT OF GBIIILL Lili. Hun-quufrne LA.lll°8 Bmoenn, September Z), 1864. Iqior.-I hevothelxonox-to report that we left the churehintbe neighbom°boodof8pot1ylnnie0uurthou|eeBerderkonthe21|tof lhpmerched until 2 o'c1ook that night, resumed our much stil o’olook onthennmingof the 22d, md bivoueoed eboutnoonthnt dey neu- Hevlewe Shtion, on the Oentnl nilroed. At6o'olock A. ll., outhe28d.wemnvedeti1lfurtherdownthenilroed,endeboutnoon vent into cemp alone to the South Anne river md near Andenoufe Btntion. That\Rernoouvreverecrderednpthenilroed,6ormedline ofbettleon the right ofl[cGowan, perpendicular to the road, end threwforverdeportiamofoureherp-ehootuu. 'I'heSeve|t.hregiment weeeooneflerwerdedeteebed to guard efoxdontheriver. Wewere subsequently ordered etill further up the med-our sharp-ehooten


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/298

  \90]'/72; :?A £0 / if ' _
 * 1) fa ff
 * W
 * " ',‘ __A  _ét é »»

Q ' /Q ’ `_,z, _` p \ if; ,if '     /> - ,_,, __3_ e  '  V i ;- -3-. /-_p ,/A e he, 5 , ,_ _ 7  _ '   .    I/   /' at   , _ " ,J 2 ___ }t~ ' l'   ;, " ~ v:___.,. , _ -1 1. __ - _ _ _ I _ F., ff; ___,a_u'1"i’_~T__‘_   f. -‘il-L_ . --pw ¢ ` ~. V,.` ' p wi  ':_;' "“"Y I <»'v r Vol. IX. Richmond, Va., July and August, 1881. Nos. 7 and 8. may annum Innes; anpasp. Bv Muon Penn F. Huuoxn.-Pun No. 8. The next day-Sunday-the army nsmained in the vicinity of Bioh- mond. and the day was occupied in paroling prisoners, burying the dead and taking care of the wounded. In this the Federals were given every facility, and treated with consideration and humanity. The able and humane medical director of our army, Dr. 8. A. Smith, of Louisiana, offered their surgeons an equal ahare in the hospitals and hospital etorel. In every respect, hy oicen and by privatee, the prisoners were treated with greatest courtesy. In the main they appreciated it, and conducted themeelves very well. But one instance, a piece of “sharp practice" occurred, worthy of notice, as illustrating the absurd and lying boast- fulnsnofalargeportionof t.heNor¢hern preeeinthinvar,and,atthe same time, the low cunning which has made the name Yankee, in a eer- tain sense odious, and only another synonym for trickery and treachery the would over. Early in the engagement at Mount Zion, Captain Frei-et, a young gentleman from New Orleans, attached toGeneral Smith’s stai. succeeded in capturing. unaided, three privatee, with loaded mnskets in their hands, and Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong, of Ohio. l
 * 4-,___ ' 'fegt /I '


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 04.djvu/18

Rh cheeks as the fiery cognac warmed his veins drained out again, leaving him as ghastly as a corpse. "Did Nella hear me?" he asked hoarsely. "Did I blab——"

"Compose yourself, Monsieur" de Grandin bade. "She heard nothing, but it would be well if we heard more. I think I understand your difficulty. I am a physician and a Frenchman and no prude. This renunciation which you make is but the noble gesture. You have been unfortunate, and now you fear. Have courage; no infection is so bad there is no remedy——"

Ned's laugh was hard and brittle as the tinkle of a breaking glass. "I only wish it were the thing you think," he interrupted. "I'd have you give me salvarsan and see what happened; but there isn't any treatment I can take for this. I'm not delirious, and I'm not crazy, gentlemen; I know just what I'm saying. Insane as it may sound, I'm pledged to the dead, and there isn't any way to bail me out."

"Eh, what is it you say?" de Grandin's small blue eyes were gleaming with the light of battle as he caught the occult implication in Ned's declaration. "Pledged to the dead? Comment cela?"

raised himself unsteadily and balanced on the table edge.

"It happened in New Orleans last winter," he answered. "I'd finished up my business and was on the loose, and thought I'd walk alone through the Vieux Carré—the old French Quarter. I'd had dinner at Antoine's and stopped around at the Old Absinthe House for a few drinks, then strolled down to the French Market for a cup of chicory coffee and some doughnuts. Finally I walked down Royal Street to look at Madame Lalaurie's old mansion; that's the famous haunted house, you know. I wanted to see if I could find a ghost. Good Lord, I wanted to!

"The moon was full that night, but the house was still as old Saint Denis Cemetery, so after peering through the iron grilles that shut the courtyard from the street for half an hour or so, I started back toward Canal Street.

"I'd almost reached Bienville Street when just as I passed one of those funny two-storied iron-grilled balconies so many of the old houses have I heard something drop on the sidewalk at my feet. It was a japonica, one of those rose-like flowers they grow in the courtyard gardens down there. When I looked up, a girl was laughing at me from the second story of the balcony. 'Mon fleuron, monsieur, s'il vous plait,' she called, stretching down a white arm for the bloom.

"The moonlight hung about her like a veil of silver tissue, and I could see her plainly as though it had been noon. Most New Orleans girls are dark. She was fair, her hair was very fine and silky and about the color of a frosted chestnut-burr. She wore it in a long bob with curls around her face and neck, and I knew W. T.—2


text:
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 09.djvu/394

 _ *M f- "Ti  ' ’  /   g. . g   "  ’ Q}i~r;“;. ’~ _ . ~ '5' C   _"ill,/l Z_   ‘Q g   C `°_*`:<‘:   va. rx. momma, vi, Shptember,188l. no. 9. Lll1lll1l$|l&lVll'|ll|lll|UBll.l¢'l»l»iillll-AKl ofoaharelerantesaenonaleligalgnasllaaeleetttlelanangs The annual gatherings of the veterans of the Army Northern Vir- ginia have for some years peat been a moet interesting feature in the exercises of “Fair week” in Richmond, and have attracted always large orowde and enthusiastic interest. _ The meeting this year was no exception; and 'there gathered in the State Capitol Tuesday night, October 25th, such In array of brave men and fair women as these oocadone never fail to'draw. Jnat before the appointed hour General J. A. Early eame into the hall, and was greeted with loud and continued applause. In the absence of the preddent (General W. H. F. Ins) Colonel T. H. Carter, one ol' the vioe-presidents, called the meeting to order, and etated that the Executive Committee had requested General J. A. Early to preside. Al General Early took the chair he was again greeted with enthusi- astic applause. He called on Dr. J. William Jones, who lead in prayer. On motion of Colonel H. C. Cabell, a committee ooneisting of Colonel H. 0. Cabell, Private J. Hall Moore, Captain J. V. Bidgood, Captain W. G. McCabe, and Captain Harwell T. Clarke was appointed to recommend odieers for the ensuing year.


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Széll, Koloman

SZÉLL, KOLOMAN (1845-1915), Hungarian statesman, was born on June 8 1845. He studied at Pest and Vienna, and in 1867 became deputy for the district of St. Gotthard. He very quickly won the reputation of being remarkably well informed on economic and financial questions. Széll was one of Deák's intimates, whose ward, the daughter of the Hungarian poet Vörösmarty, he had married. In 1875 he was Finance Minister in the Cabinet of Koloman Tisza, and as such imposed on himself the task of restoring the shattered credit of Hungary. In 1878 he concluded with Austria the first economic Ausgleich. At that time the single Austrian bank was changed, in conformity with this arrangement, into the dualistic Austro-Hungarian bank, and Széll consolidated the Hungarian Rentes, and nearly succeeded in balancing the State finances. As he feared that this balance would again be upset by the occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, he resigned from the Cabinet, incurring thereby the displeasure of the Crown. He still kept his seat in Parliament, and as deputy constantly criticized the financial policy of the Tisza Cabinet. At the beginning of the eighties Széll founded the Hungarian Mortgage Credit Bank, of which he was governor until the end of his life. He opened entirely new sources of credit for Hungarian agriculture. He declined repeated offers of the portfolio of Finance. When the Banffy Ministry suffered a serious crisis at the end of 1898 and was compelled to resign in Feb. 1899, Széll was entrusted with the formation of a new Cabinet. By means of the Pact of Feb. 23 1899 he restored parliamentary peace. On the basis of the so-called Széll formula the new Ausgleich with Austria until the year 1907 was concluded after long negotiations. The most important result of this was that Hungary attained the status of an independent customs area, but, under the arrangement for reciprocity, still maintained intact the existing conditions of the Customs Union with Austria. In 1901, under Széll's Ministry, the new elections resulted in a Liberal victory. A year later began the struggle for the reform of the national defence, and Széll introduced in 1902 the law for increasing the number of recruits, in exchange for which the Independent party wanted concessions to the principle

of nationality. The obstruction against the provision for defence lasted from the end of Jan. to April 4 1903, and resulted in the suspension of the constitution (“Ex lex” condition). Széll sought to wear down the opposition by delay. As part of the majority would not agree to this, he resigned on June 16 1903. When his successor, Count Stephen Tisza, on Nov. 18 1904 brought about a split in the Liberal party by forcing through Parliament new rules of procedure, Széll joined Count Andrassy in the secession from the party. Under the Coalition Cabinet of Wekerle, Széll was chosen president of the Constitutional party. He tried continually, but in vain, to bridge the opposition between Tisza and Andrassy. He died on Aug. 16 1915. (E. v. W.)


text:
Page:DenisGale annotated notebook complete2.pdf/38

 Harporhynchus rufus ( -- J.H.) set 3 eggs, June 5, Valley.


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 04.djvu/28

Rh "You mean to say you understand all this?"

"Not at all by any means; I am clever, me, but not that clever. No, my friend, I am as much in the dark as you, only I do not refuse to credit what our young friend tells us. I believe the things he has related happened, exactly as he has recounted them. I do not understand, but I believe. Accordingly, I must probe, I must sift, I must examine this matter. We see it now as a group of unrelated and irrelevant occurrences, but somewhere lies the key which will enable us to make harmony from this discord, to gather these stray, tangled threads into an ordered pattern. I go to seek that key."

"Where?"

"To New Orleans, of course. Tonight I pack my portmanteaux, tomorrow I entrain. Just now"—he smothered a tremendous yawn—"now I do what every wise man does as often as he can. I take a drink."

evenings later we gathered in my study, de Grandin, Ned and I, and from the little Frenchman's shining eyes I knew his quest had been productive of results.

"My friends," he told us solemnly, "I am a clever person, and a lucky one, as well. The morning after my arrival at New Orleans I enjoyed three Ramos fizzes, then went to sit in City Park by the old Dueling-Oak and wished with all my heart that I had taken four. And while I sat in self-reproachful thought, sorrowing for the drink that I had missed, behold, one passed by whom I recognized. He was my old schoolfellow, Paul Dubois, now a priest in holy orders and attached to the Cathedral of Saint Louis.

"He took me to his quarters, that good, pious man, and gave me luncheon. It was Friday and a fast day, so we fasted. Mon Dieu, but we did fast! On Creole gumbo and oysters a la Rockefeller, and baked pompano and little shrimp fried crisp in olive oil and chicory salad and seven different kinds of cheese and wine. When we were so filled with fasting that we could not eat another morsel my old friend took me to another priest, a native of New Orleans whose stock of local lore was second only to his marvelous capacity for fine champagne. Morbleu, how I admire that one! And now, attend me very carefully, my friends. What he disclosed to me makes many hidden mysteries all clear:

"In New Orleans there lived a wealthy family named d'Ayen. They possessed much gold and land, a thousand slaves or more, and one fair daughter by the name of Julie. When this country bought the Louisiana Territory from Napoleon and your army came to occupy the forts, this young girl fell in love with a young officer, a Lieutenant Philip Merriwell. Tenez, army love in those times was no different than it is today, it seems. This gay young lieutenant, he came, he wooed,


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 04.djvu/19

402 without being told that those ringlets weren't put in with a hot iron. Her face was pale, colorless and fine-textured as a magnolia petal, but her lips were brilliant crimson. There was something reminiscent of those ladies you see pictured in Directoire prints about her; small, regular features, straight, white, high-waisted gown tied with a wide girdle underneath her bosom, low, round-cut neck and tiny, ball-puff sleeves that left her lovely arms uncovered to the shoulder. She was like Rose Beauharnais or Madame de Fontenay, except for her fair hair, and her eyes. Her eyes were like an Eastern slave's, languishing and passionate, even when she laughed. And she was laughing then, with a throaty, almost caressing laugh as I tossed the flower up to her and she leant across the iron railing, snatching at it futilely as it fell just short of reach.

"'C'est sans profit,' she laughed at last. "Your skill is too small or my arm too short, m'sieur. Bring it up to me.'

"'You mean for me to come up there?' I asked.

"'But certainly. I have teeth, but will not bite you—maybe.'

"The street door to the house was open; I pushed it back, groped my way along a narrow hall and climbed a flight of winding stairs. She was waiting for me on the balcony, lovelier, close up, if that were possible, than when I'd seen her from the sidewalk. Her gown was China silk, so sheer and clinging that the shadow of her charming figure showed against its rippling folds like a lovely silhouette; the sash which bound it was a six-foot length of rainbow ribbon tied coquettishly beneath her shoulders and trailing in fringed ends almost to her dress-hem at the back; her feet were stockingless and shod with sandals fastened with cross-straps of purple grosgrain laced about the ankles. Save for the small gold rings that scintillated in her ears, she wore no ornaments of any kind.

"'Mon fleur, m'sieur,' she ordered haughtily, stretching out her hand; then her eyes lighted with sudden laughter and she turned her back to me, bending her head forward. "But no, it fell into your hands; it is that you must put in its place again,' she ordered, pointing to a curl where she wished the flower set. 'Come, m'sieur, I wait upon you.'

"On the settee by the wall a guitar lay. She picked it up and ran her slim, pale fingers twice across the strings, sounding a soft, melancholy chord. When she began to sing, her words were slurred and languorous, and I had trouble understanding them; for the song was ancient when Bienville turned the first spadeful of earth that marked the ramparts of New Orleans:

"Her voice had the throaty, velvety quality one hears in people of the Southern countries, and the words of the song seemed fairly to yearn with the sadness and passionate longing of the love-bereft. But she smiled as she put by her instrument, a curious smile, which heightened the mystery of her face, and her wide eyes seemed suddenly half questing, half drowsy, as she asked, 'Would you ride off upon your grim, pale horse and leave poor little Julie d'Ayen famishing for love, m'sieur?'

"'Ride off from you?' I answered gallantly. 'How can you ask?' A verse from Burns came to me:

"There was something avid in the look she gave me. Something more than mere gratified vanity shone in her eyes as she


text:
Page:DenisGale annotated notebook complete2.pdf/36

 July 15. About this date Scolecophagus cyanocephalus visits the range for some purpose or other. Do not know why.

P.e. montana Rocky Mt, Pinegrosbeak July 1. Pinicola enucleator. Saw and heard several of these birds. Watched a pair feeding upon pine and spruce buds. They did not seem to have any nest cares.


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 04.djvu/20

Rh turned her face up to me in the moonlight. 'You mean it?' she demanded in a quivering, breathless voice.

"'Of course,' I bantered. 'How could you doubt it?'

"'Then swear it—seal the oath with blood!'

"Her eyes were almost closed, and her lips were lightly parted as she leant toward me. I could see the thin, white line of tiny, gleaming teeth behind the lush red of her lips; the tip of a pink tongue swept across her mouth, leaving it warmer, moister, redder than before; in her throat a small pulse throbbed palpitatingly. Her lips were smooth and soft as the flower-petals in her hair, but as they crushed on mine they seemed to creep about them as though endowed with a volition of their own. I could feel them gliding almost stealthily, searching greedily, it seemed, until they covered my entire mouth. Then came a sudden searing burn of pain which passed as quickly as it flashed across my lips, and she seemed inhaling deeply, desperately, as though to pump the last faint gasp of breath up from my lungs. A humming sounded in my ears; everything went dark around me as if I had been plunged in some abysmal flood; a spell of dreamy lassitude was stealing over me when she pushed me from her so abruptly that I staggered back against the iron railing of the gallery.

and fought for breath like a winded swimmer coming from the water, but the half-recaptured breath seemed suddenly to catch itself unbidden in my throat, and a tingling chill went rippling up my spine. The girl had dropped down to her knees, staring at the door which let into the house, and as I looked I saw a shadow writhe across the little pool of moonlight which lay upon the sill. Three feet or so in length it was, thick through as a man's wrist, the faint light shining dully on its scaly armor and disclosing the forked lightning of its darting tongue. It was a cottonmouth—a water moccasin—deadly as a rattlesnake, but more dangerous, for it sounds no warning before striking, and can strike when only half coiled. How it came there on the second-story gallery of a house so far from any swampland I had no means of knowing, but there it lay, bent in the design of a double S, its wedge-shaped head swaying on upreared neck a scant six inches from the girl's soft bosom, its forked tongue darting deathly menace. Half paralyzed with fear and loathing, I stood there in a perfect ecstasy of horror, not daring to move hand or foot lest I aggravate the reptile into striking. But my terror changed to stark amazement as my senses slowly registered the scene. The girl was talking to the snake and—it listened as a person might have done!

"'Non, non, grand'tante; halte là!' she whispered. 'Cela est à moi—il est dévoué!'

"The serpent seemed to pause uncertainly, grudgingly, as though but half convinced, then shook its head from side to side, much as an aged person might when only half persuaded by a youngster's argument. Finally, silently as a shadow, it slithered back again into the darkness of the house.

"Julie bounded to her feet and put her hands upon my shoulders.

"'You mus' go, my friend,' she whispered fiercely. 'Quickly, ere she comes again. It was not easy to convince her; she is old and very doubting. O, I am afraid—afraid!'

"She hid her face against my arm, and I could feel the throbbing of her heart against me. Her hands stole upward to my cheeks and pressed them between palms as cold as graveyard clay as she


text:
User:Apodemus~enwikisource

Index:DenisGale annotated notebook complete2.pdf

title: User:Apodemus~enwikisource


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Massie, Joseph


text:
1922 Encyclopædia Britannica/Szilagyi, Desider

SZILAGYI, DESIDER (1840-1901), Hungarian statesman and jurist, was born at Nagyvarad (Grosswardein) on April 1 1840. He studied law at Budapest, Vienna, and in Germany, and early attracted attention by his articles on law and politics. As head of a section in the Hungarian Ministry of Justice he travelled on a commission from the Government to England to study there the conditions of the administration of justice, of which he had a knowledge then equalled by few. Brought up wholly in Liberal

ideas, Szilagyi took a conspicuous part in the codification work of the Ministry of Justice. Deputy in 1871, professor of public law and politics at Budapest University in 1874, he was in 1877 one of the leaders of the Opposition, which, however, he left in 1886. In 1887 he was returned to Parliament by Pozsony (Pressburg) as an independent member. He became Minister of Justice in 1889. From this time to 1894 he directed his efforts principally towards a radical reform of the whole administration of the courts. In 1894 he took a conspicuous part in ecclesiastical legislation, with which his name is permanently connected. Article XXXI. of the Law of Civil Marriage, and articles XXXII. and XXXIII. on the religion of the children and on State registration, were the result of his active cooperation. After the appointment of Baron Banffy, the former president of the Hungarian House of Deputies, as prime minister, Szilagyi was elected president of the House on Jan. 21 1895, which office he retained until 1899. A man of extensive knowledge, spotless character and wide vision, and a brilliant orator, he was one of the most considerable of the Hungarian statesmen of his day. He died on July 3 1901.

 * (E. v. W.)


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Masson, George Joseph Gustave


text:
Page:The Seven Seas (Kipling, 1896).djvu/212

 THE LADIES

taken my fun where I've found it;

I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time;

I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts,

An' four o' the lot was prime.

One was an 'arf-caste widow,

One was a woman at Prome,

One was the wife of a jemadar-sais,

An' one is a girl at 'ome.

Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies,

For, takin' 'em all along,

You never can say till you've tried 'em,

An' then you are like to be wrong.

There's times when you'll think that you mightn't,

There's times when you'll know that you might;

But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown,

They'll 'elp you a lot with the White!


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Massue de Ruvigny, Henri de


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Master, Richard


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Master, Streynsham


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


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


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


text:
Page:The Seven Seas (Kipling, 1896).djvu/213

Rh I was a young un at 'Oogli,

Shy as a girl to begin;

Aggie de Castrer she made me,

An' Aggie was clever as sin;

Older than me, but my first un—

More like a mother she were—

Showed me the way to promotion an' pay,

An' I learned about women from 'er!

Then I was ordered to Burma,

Actin' in charge o' Bazar,

An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen

Through buy in' supplies off 'er pa.

Funny an' yellow an' faithful—

Doll in a teacup she were,

But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,

An' I learned about women from 'er!

Then we was shifted to Neemuch

(Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now),

An' I took with a shiny she-devil,

The wife of a nigger at Mhow;