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2nd S. No 2., ] I put the question to him, he has been induced to look "a little closer into the subject;" and now he tells us, as the result, that—

"There never was but one copy of the letters printed on and bound in vellum with gilt edges, lettered, &c., according to the direction of Junius."

Thus the many of 1851 has become one in 1855. That another four years may not be wasted in waiting for a reply, I will not ask his authority for this latter assertion, that one copy was printed on vellum, but state at once that he has no authority. We all know that Junius directed Woodfall (Private Letter, No. 47.) to have a copy of the edition of 1772 "bound in vellum." It suits 's speculations to find this copy, and he, in defiance of notorious facts, now asserts that it has been found, and was sold at Stowe. The readers of "N. & Q." know (1st S. . 304. 333.), and must have known, had he been pleased to "look a little farther," or not wilfully to shut his eyes, that the copy sold at Stowe was printed on vellum, and not bound in vellum—that it was not a copy of "the author's edition" to which only the directions of Junius can apply—not of the edition of 1772—not a Woodfall edition at all—but an edition printed more than twenty years after Junius gave his directions—a copy of Bensley's edition. No doubt Bensley, wishing to produce a choice specimen of typography, printed a copy, after the foolish fashion of his day, on vellum. If has any doubt as to the existence of this fashion, let him consult one or other of our old booksellers. I could refer him to more than a dozen works, of which sometimes one, and sometimes two copies, were printed on vellum by the Stevensons of Edinburgh alone.

's whole argument, if it deserve to be so called, is founded on like assertions,—"rumours," I suppose they would be called, if questioned. Thus he asks how came the vellum-bound copy in the hands of the Grenvilles? It never was in the hands of the Grenvilles. "It is proved that Junius had an amanuensis"—it is not proved. That Mrs. Dayrolles "was acquainted with the secret," is mere assertion to suit 's theory. That Mr. H. S. Woodfall never "pretended to know anything of the fate of the parcel" containing the vellum-bound is true; but true only because he was never asked. The correspondence in the ''Gent. Mag''., says, "proves that the vellum-bound copy was in existence in 1786." The correspondence proves nothing, and 's presumption is founded, as usual, on nothing. The "lynx-eyed," I presume, allowed the paragraph quoted to pass without comment, and very naturally, because every word in it had warrant in the published letters; and if with it "solves a mystery," that mystery was solved, to all who read with attention, when the edition of 1812 was first published.

In pointing out the errors of other people in my article of last week, under the above head, I have fallen into a very singular, but I trust not unpardonable, blunder myself. I there spoke of Mr. E. V. Utterson as dead; I am most happy to be informed that he is living and well, but during the last six months at least, I have been, I hardly know how, under the unfortunate persuasion that he had ceased to be among us. My notion was that I had heard one of my family read the account of Mr. Utterson's decease from The Times, but I must have been mistaken; and the only apology I can now make is, at once to acknowledge the error, and to express my hearty sorrow for having fallen into it, as well as my hearty joy at the continued health of a gentleman to whom I have been under so many literary obligations. These obligations I not only did not scruple to admit, but I was glad to admit them at the moment I was so incautious in the statement of them. It may be some excuse to say that, residing at a distance from London, I had not any ready means of inquiry; but, on the other hand, this very circumstance ought to have rendered me more careful. The commencement of my article shows how strong was the conviction in my mind; it never suggested itself to me as a matter of doubt. I think I know Mr. Utterson well enough to feel sure that he will accept the amends contained in this note.

Maidenhead, Jan. 8, 1856.

Photographic Fac-similes of Old Documents.—'s late Letter to The Times on some difficulties in the application of photography to the production of facsimiles of MSS., was a heavy blow and great discouragement to the practice of the Art, in a department to which we believe it to be eminently adapted. We have great pleasure, therefore, in reproducing in our columns Mr. Delamötte's Letter to the same journal on this important subject; and we hope that able and practised photographer will complete the good work he has thus commenced, by communicating some practical suggestions as to the best mode of making photographic copies of early documents and printed books:—

"Sir,—In your journal of the 6th alt., there appeared a letter from Mr. Maxwell Lyte on photographic facsimiles of old documents, which is calculated to discourage attempts in one of the most valuable applications of the photographic art; but, as the statements contained in this letter are at variance with the experience of most photographers, I think, for the credit of the art, they ought not to pass uncontradicted.


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152 was Lactantius who asked, "Is there any one so senseless as to believe that there are men whose footsteps are higher than their heads? That the crops and trees grow downward? That the rains and snow and hail fall upwards toward the earth? I am at a loss as to what to say of those, who, when they have once erred, steadily persevere in their folly, and defend one vain thing by another."

St. Augustine insisted that men could not be allowed by the Almighty to live there, since, if they did, they could not see Christ at His second coming, descending through the air.

In the eighth century, a Bishop Virgil of Salzburg dared to assert that there were men living in the antipodes. He was strongly attacked by St. Boniface of Germany, who appealed to Pope Zachary for a decision. The Pope, as the infallible teacher of Christendom, made the following response: He declared, it, "Perverse, iniquitous, and against Virgil's soul." And again another infallible statement by the infallible Pope Zachary became a doctrine of the Church.

In Italy, in 1316, Peter of Abano, famous as a physician, promulgated the opposite view to that of the Church, for which he was persecuted by the Inquisition, and barely escaped with his life. In 1327, Cecco d'Ascoli, an astronomer, was burned alive at Florence for daring to assert that men lived in the antipodes.

The difficulties that beset Columbus are well known. How he was hounded both in Portugal and in Spain by the Clergy; and even after his discovery of America, the Papacy still maintained its theory of the flatness of the earth and the nonsense of the antipodes. Pope Alexander VI and Pope Julius II attempted to settle the disputes between Spain and Portugal by drawing some remarkable maps that may still be found; but no one dares to disturb the quiet of the

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


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Rh ridiculous bulls that the popes issued on this dispute.

In 1519 Magellan made his famous voyage and proved the earth to be round and that men actually lived in the antipodes. But the force of ecclesiastical stultification was so great, as it is today, that men still believed the opposite view for two hundred years after the voyage of Magellan.


text: Notes and Queries/Series 2/Volume 1/Number 1/Reprints of Early English Poetry


text: Notes and Queries/Series 2/Volume 1/Number 2/Reprints of Early English Poetry


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Index talk:Notes and Queries - Series 2 - Volume 1.djvu

While the mainspace page for Notes and Queries/Series 2/Volume 1 has not yet been made, and I therefore do not have a table of contents to add the articles to, I have created pages for the note Notes and Queries/Series 2/Volume 1/Number 1/Reprints of Early English Poetry and the reply Notes and Queries/Series 2/Volume 1/Number 2/Reprints of Early English Poetry. As they share the same title, I used /Number X/ in the article name to disambiguate them, rather than a bracketed term, and propose that this be carried out for the other articles as many will have the same problem. -- xensyria T 10:43, 2 August 2012 (UTC)


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Author:Edmund Burke (1871-1947)

Works

 * Latin Lessons with Homer C. Newton (1905)

title: Author:Edmund Burke (1871-1947)


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Page:EB1911 - Volume 29.djvu/968

 HUBNER, EMIL.
 * Inscriptions, Latin (in part).

HUBRECHT, PROF. AMBROSIUS ARNOLD WILLEM, LL.D., D.Sc., Ph.D. (A. A. W. H.)
 * Nemertina (in part).

HUEFFER, FRANCIS, Ph.D. (F. H.)
 * Boccaccio

HUGEL, BARON FRIEDRICH VON. (F. v. H.)
 * John, the Apostle; John, Gospel of St.; Loisy.

HUGGINS, LADY. (M. L. H.)
 * Armilla; Astrolabe.

HUGHAN, WILLIAM JAMES. (W. J. H.*)
 * Banker-Marks, Builders' Rites, Freemasonry, Rosicrucianism.

HULL, CAPTAIN THOMAS A., R.N. (T. A. H.)
 * Chart.

HUMMEL, J. J., F.I.C. (J. J. H.)
 * Dyeing (in part).

HUNT, REV. WILLIAM, M.A., D.Litt. *
 * England, Church of; Freeman, Edward A., Froude, J. A. , Gardiner, S. R. , Green, J. R.  Seeley, Sir. J  R. , Stubbs, William.

HUNTER, SIR ROBERT, C.B., M.A. (R H *)
 * Commons.

HUNTER, WALTER. M.I.C.E., M.I.M.E., F.G.S. (W H.*)
 * Dredge and Dredging, Hydraulic Engineering

HUNTER, SIR WILLIAM WILSON, K.C.S.I. (W W. H.)
 * India, History (in part) and Geography and Statistics (in part).

HUTCHINSON, HORATIO GORDON. (H. G. H.)
 * Golf.

HUTCHISON, A. F., M.A. (A. F. H.)
 * Wallace, Sir William.

HUTTON, REV. ARTHUR WOLLASTON, M.A.
 * Leo XIII. (pope) ; Manning, Cardinal; Newman, Cardinal, Wiseman, Cardinal.

HUTTON, REV. JOSEPH EDMUND, M.A. (J. E. H.)
 * Moravian Brethren.

HUXLEY, THOMAS HENRY, F.R.S. (T. H. H.)
 * Amphibia (in part) ; Biology (in part).

HYMANS, HENRI SIMON, Ph.D. (H. H.)
 * Rubens (in part) ; Teniers (in part), Van Dyck (in part).

ILBERT, SIR COURTENAY PEREGRINE, K.C.B., K.C.S.I. (C. P. I.)
 * Evidence.

INGRAM, JOHN KELLS, M.A., LL.D. (J. K I.)
 * Leslie, Thomas E. C., Say, J. B. , Senior, Nassau ; Slavery (in part) ; Smith, Adam (in part) ; Sumptuary Laws

INGRAM, THOMAS ALLAN, M.A., LL.D. (T A. I.)
 * England, Local Government, X (in part), Assignats ; Chiltern Hundreds , Clearing House  Holliday , Illegitimacy , Insurance (in part) , London, Finance , Post and Postal Service , Unemployment , Vagrancy   &c

INNES, ALEXANDER TAYLOR, M.A., LL.D. (A T I.)
 * Knox, John; Pilate, Pontius.

IRVINE, WILLIAM FERGUSSON, M.A. (W F. I)
 * Liverpool.

ISAAC, PROF. JULES. (J. I.)
 * Amboise, G. d'; Anne of France  Du Bellay, Guillaume and Jean, Francis I.; Louis XII

JACKSON, BENJAMIN DAYDON, Ph.D. (B. D J.)
 * Linnaeus.

JACKSON, PROF. HENRY, O.M., D.Litt., LL.D.
 * Parmenides of Elea; Socrates; 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Sophists; Speusippus; Thalos, Philosophy; Xenocrates; Xenophanes of Colophon, Zeno of Elea.

JACKSON, LIEUT.-COLONEL LOUIS CHARLES, B.E., C.M.G. (L. J.)
 * Fortification and Siegecraft

JACOBI, CHARLES T. (C. T. J.)
 * Printing.

JACOBS, PROF. JOSEPH, D.Litt.
 * Jew, The Wandering ; Nethinim ; Passover ; Purim ; Tabernacles, Feast of.

JAMES, EDMUND JANES, A.M., Ph.D., LL.D. (E. J. J.)
 * Protection.

JAMES, LIONEL, F.R.G.S. (L. J.*)
 * Transvaal, History (in part)

JAMES, WILLIAM PRICE. (W. P. J.)
 * Barrie, J. M. ; Henley, W E. ; Kipling, Rudyard ; Watson, William (in part).

JAMIESON, GEORGE, C.M.G., M.A. (G. J.)
 * China (in part) ; Hwang Ho; Yangtsze-Kiang.

JASTROW, PROF. MORRIS, Ph.D.
 * Astrology ; Babylonia and Assyria, Proper Names ; Babylonian and Assyrian Religion ; Bel ; Gilgamesh, Epic of ; Gula ; Omen ; Sin (Moon-god) ; &c.

JAYNE, KINGSLEY GARLAND. (K. G. J.)
 * Bosnia and Herzegovina ; Croatia-Slavonia, Goa ; Malay Archipelago, History, Portugal, Geography and History ; Spain, Geography and Statistics ; &c.

JEANS, JAMES HOPWOOD, M.A., F.R.S.
 * Molecule.

JEBB, SIR RICHARD CLAVERHOUSE, LL.D., D.C.L. (R. C. J.)
 * Aristophanes; Bacchylides, Demosthenes ; Euripides ; Greek Literature, f. Ancient ; Isaeus ; Isocrates ; Lysias (in part) ; Olympia (in part) ; Pindar (in part) ; Rhetoric , Thucydides (in part) , Troy and Troad (in part).

JEFFERSON, JOSEPH. (J. J.*)
 * Booth, Edwin

JENKINS, REV. D. E. (D. E. J.)
 * Calvinistic Methodists  Charles, Thomas.

JENKS, JEREMIAH WHIPPLE. (J. W. J.)
 * Trusts

JERVIS-SMITH, REV. FREDERICK JOHN, M.A., F.R.A.S., F.R.S.
 * Chronograph.

JEVONS, WILLIAM STANLEY, LL.D. (W. S. J.)
 * Boole, George ; De Morgan, A.

JOCELYN, COL. JULIAN ROBERT JOHN. (J. R. J. J.)
 * Fireworks, History; Ordnance, Heavy Field and Siege Equipments; Garrison Mountings.

JOHNS, REV. CLAUDE HERMANN WALTER, M.A., D.Litt. (C. H. W. J.)
 * Babylonian Law ; Sabbath, Babylonian and Assyrian.

JOHNSON, CHARLES, M.A. (C. J.)
 * Exchequer (in part).

JOHNSON, CHARLES PIERPOINT. (C. P. J.)
 * Pine.

JOHNSTON, ALEXANDER. (A. J.)
 * United States, History (in part).

JOHNSTON, ALEXANDER KEITH. (K. J.)
 * Brazil, History (in part).

JOHNSTON, SIR HENRY HAMILTON, G.C.M.G., K.C.B. (H. H. J.)
 * Bantu Languages, British Central Africa ; Liberia ; Tunisia ; Uganda ; Unyoro.

JOHNSTON, HENRY PHELPS. (H. P. J.*)
 * American War of Independence, Land Operations.

JOLLIFFE, ARTHUR ERNEST, M.A. (A. E. J.)
 * Continued Fractions ; Maxima and Minima ; Series.

JOLY, CHARLES JASPER, F.R.S., F.R.A.S. (C. J. J.)
 * Camera Lucida ; Camera Obscura (in part) ; Kaleidoscope.

JONES, E. ALFRED. (E. A. J.)
 * Cellini, Benvenuto (in part) ; Golden Rose (in part) ; Mace ; Plate (in part) ; Quaich.

JONES, HENRY LEWIS, M.A., M.D., M.R.C.S., F.R.C.P. (H. L. J.)
 * X-Ray Treatment.

JONES, HENRY STUART, M.A. (H. S. J.)
 * Rome, Ancient City (in part), Christian Rome (in part) and Ancient History (in part); Costume, Aegean, Greek, Etruscan and Roman; Roman Art; Theatre, Ancient (in part) ; Caesar, Julius, &c.

JONES, JOHN MORRIS, M.A. (J. M. J.)
 * Wales, Language.

JORDAN, RICHARD. (R. J.)
 * Draughts (in part).

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The Sceptic

 * The Sceptic by Eliza Lee Follen
 * The Sceptic, a major poem by Felicia Hemans
 * The Sceptic, a poem by Robert W. Service

title: The Sceptic


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Page:Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management.djvu/72

46 of cookery, they usually comprise cupboards fitted with shelves in which the cook keeps her stores and utensils; strips of wood provided with hooks for meat-covers, etc.; electric light or gas-fittings; electric bell indicator or ordinary bell-fittings; dresser, ventilators and a sink. The dresser is nearly always a movable article, but the upper part of it has to be firmly secured to the wall by strong "holdfasts," and it consequently becomes a fixture by agreement between tenant and tenant or tenant and landlord. The dresser is usually some six or seven feet long, and the upper part consists of four or five narrow grooved shelves, upon which are disposed plates and dishes. The broad shelf of the dresser, usually termed THE TOP, affords ample space for the accommodation of the soup-tureen, sauce-tureens and vegetable-dishes; while the drawers which run beneath form a convenient receptacle. The lower part forms an open recess from end to end, and has a shelf raised a few inches above the floor. This shelf is generally painted black, and forms a convenient place for large culinary utensils not in use.

A well-constructed sink is indispensable in a kitchen. Wooden sinks, lined with zinc, sinks made of stoneware, and sinks lined with well-cemented tiles are very serviceable, and easily kept clean. They should never be fixed in out-of-way corners, but should be easy of access for both cleaning and repairing. Whether the sink is in constant use or not, the pipe should be flushed at least once a day with hot soda and water. However some people prefer it excluded from the kitchen.

Every kitchen should be provided with some outlet for the hot foul air which rises to the top of the kitchen. The doors and windows may be used as a means of admitting fresh air, but an outlet at a higher level than the window is always necessary.

The kitchen range is always a fixture, but of so much importance that the subject will be treated separately.

What has been already said regarding kitchen fixtures applies equally to the kitchens in middle-class households, but not to the homes of the working-classes. Electric light and electric bell fittings are not often found there; properly-constructed sinks, efficient ventilation and convenient cupboards they have, or ought to have; and in many households a dresser is considered indispensable, but it is often a movable article of furniture, and will be described under that heading.

Kitchen Furniture.—In making selection for the kitchen with distempered walls and bare floor, strength and durability are the chief points to be considered. The centre table is the most important article of furniture; it should be as large as the kitchen will conveniently allow; and the usual form is oblong, with a drawer at each end. In one drawer the cook keeps knives and spoons, and in the other small utensils and implements in constant use, such as dariol-moulds, patty-pans, and cases containing cutters, larding-needles, etc. Modern tables


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Page:EB1911 - Volume 22.djvu/840

GENERAL STATISTICS] having nearly the same amount of railway mileage. In Mexico the national government is carrying out a consistent policy of developing its railway lines. It has succeeded in restoring the credit of these enterprises, and is proceeding with care and skill to form the lines into an efficient transportation system. In Argentina about 15% of the railways are owned and operated by the government, the balance being in the hands of private companies, largely controlled in England. Development of these lines has been primarily an extension from the large cities in the East to the agricultural districts in the West, but a change of great importance was brought about in 1910 by the completion of the last tunnel on the Argentine Transandine Railway, which serves to connect Santiago, Valparaiso and the other great cities of the west coast with Buenos Aires, Montevideo, Bahia, Rio de Janeiro and the other great cities of the east coast. Naturally the company named does not reach all of these points, but its line across the Andes supplies the indispensable link of communication, in the absence of which the east coast towns and the west coast towns have hitherto been as widely separated as if they had been located on different continents—indeed, far more widely separated in point of time and of freight charges than Great Britain and the United States.

Table IV. shows as closely as possible the railway route mileage open in Asia at the close of 1907. Although more than half of the total mileage of Asia is in British India, it is probable that the greatest proportionate gains in the near future will be in China, Siberia and Manchuria, and Central Russia in Asia. In proportion to its population China has the least railway development of any of the great countries of the world; the probability that its present commercial awakening will extend seems large, and in that case it will need a vast increase in its interior communications.

In Africa, it will be seen by Table V. that the railway mileage in the British possessions amounts to almost five-sixths of the total. The so-called Cape-to-Cairo route shows occasional extensions, particularly in the opening up of new country in Central Africa by the Rhodesian railway system. The Rhodesian railway system in 1910 had penetrated north of Broken Hill, which is just above the fifteenth parallel of south latitude, while the Egyptian railway system had reached Gondokoro, located close to the fifth parallel of north latitude. The intervening distance, through country exceedingly unhealthy for white men, and therefore promising no traffic except raw materials, does not seem a likely field for rapid railway extension.

In Australia the increase in railway mileage in the five years ending December 31st, 1907 was about 7%—a small proportion as compared with America, Asia or Africa. The greatest increase, both relative and absolute, was in Queensland; the smallest in South Australia, which added only 24 m. during the five years. Yet the mileage open per 10,000 inhabitants in Australia, as a whole, far surpasses that in any other of the broad geographical divisions. Table VII. illustrates the mileage open to the end of 1907 per 100 sq. m. of territory and per 10,000 inhabitants. It will be observed that Belgium leads all the countries of the world in what may be called its railway density, with the United Kingdom a far-distant second in the list, and Persia last. In railway mileage per 10,000 inhabitants, however, Queensland, in the Australian group, reports a figure much greater than any other country; While at the other end of the list Persia holds the record for isolation.

Complete estimates for the balance of Africa not available.

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Rh are provided with a shelf underneath, which runs from end to end at a convenient height from the floor; and this arrangement is exceedingly useful in large kitchens, because it saves a great deal of going to and fro between the centre and side tables; and in small kitchens where the table space is limited the wide shelf forms a good substitute. The table should be made of good, well-seasoned deal or other white hard wood; the top must be smooth, without cracks, and substantial, and the legs perfectly plain and strong. No part of it should be painted, because frequent washing is a necessity, and half-worn paint soon presents a shabby appearance. On the other hand, well-scrubbed wood always looks clean and appropriate when surrounded by bare walls, uncovered floor and pots and pans. The table and one or two substantial chairs comprise the whole furniture. The meat-screen, chopping-block, jelly-stand, mortar, etc., all occupy space, but they are not there to furnish the kitchen.

There is a wide choice in tables specially adapted to the kitchens which fill the double office of Shakespeare's "cook room" and Spenser's "kitchen roome, ne spared for niceness none." Good, plain, firm substantial tables, either square or oblong, with turned legs in walnut or mahogany, or deal stained in imitation of these woods, may be had in sizes and prices to meet the requirements of all.

The term DRESSER was originally applied to a narrow side-table, on which meat was dressed or prepared for use. In modern phraseology the dresser is described as "a kind of kitchen sideboard with rows of shelves for plates, dishes, etc." It may have three drawers in the centre with a cupboard on either side; or the order may be reversed, and each cupboard be replaced by three drawers, with one cupboard in the centre.

In completing the equipment of the kitchen, the number and kind of articles necessary will be determined by its size, and the circumstances of those who occupy the house. Every one should set about the task of furnishing with a fixed determination to have nothing that is not good and serviceable, no matter how plain, in their homes. When means are limited, it is much better to buy what is strictly necessary, and add articles of an ornamental character by degrees.

The Kitchen Clock.—As the observance of time and adherence to punctuality are necessary in almost everything that is done in the kitchen, no kitchen can be regarded as being completely furnished without a clock. The best kind of clock is an eight-day dial, which requires winding up only once a week. An English eight-day clock with a 12-inch dial may be bought for 35s., but a good kitchen clock may be bought for about 6s. The best position for the clock is over the mantelpiece, as in some culinary operations it has to be frequently consulted, and the cook should be able to do this without turning away from the fireplace.


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Page:The Oak.djvu/42

 CHAPTER III.

proceeding to describe the further growth and development of the seedling, it will be well to examine its structure in this comparatively simple stage, in order to obtain points of view for our studies at a later period. For many reasons it is advantageous to begin with the root-system. If we cut a neat section accurately transverse to the long axis of the root, and a few millimetres behind its tip, the following parts may be discerned with the aid of a good lens, or a microscope, on the flat face of the almost colorless section. A circular area of grayish cells occupies the centre—this is called the axis cylinder of the young root (Fig. 5,, a). Surrounding this is a wide margin of larger cells, forming a sort of sheathing cylinder to this axial one, and termed the root-cortex. The superficial layer of cells of this root-cortex has been distinguished as a special tissue, like an epidermis, and as it is the layer which alone produces the root-hairs, we may conveniently regard it as worthy of distinction as the piliferous layer (Fig. 5, e).

Similar thin sections a little nearer the tip of the

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 root would show a more or less loose sheath of cells in addition to and outside this piliferous layer. This is the root-cap, which is a thimble-shaped sheath of looser cells covering the tip of the root as a thimble covers the

5.—A. Transverse section of young root under a lens, showing the axis cylinder, a; epidermis or piliferous layer, e; and the cortex between. B. The same, more highly magnified: c, cortex; p, phloëm ; x, xylem; C. A portion still more highly magnified: ph, phloëm; p, pith; per, pericycle; sh, sheath (endodermis); other letters as before.

end of the finger, only we must imagine the extreme tip of the finger organically connected with the inside of the cap to make the analogy suitable (see Fig. 6). The

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 rest of the section would be much as before, excepting that the distinction between the axial cylinder and the root-cortex would be less marked.

Now contrast a section cut a couple of inches or so away from the tip, in the region where the root-hairs are well developed. Here we find the axial cylinder much more strongly marked than before, and the piliferous layer is very clearly distinguished by the fact that it gives off the root-hairs, each hair arising from one of its cells.

A little investigation shows that the axial cylinder is thus strongly marked because certain dark-looking structures have now been formed just inside its boundary—i. e, just inside the line which delimits it from the root-cortex. These dark structures are the sections of several fine cords or bundles, called vascular bundles, which can here be traced up and down in the root. As the section shows, these bundles are arranged at approximately equal distances in a cylinder; they form the vascular system of the root, and they always run along the region just inside the outer boundary of the axial cylinder (Fig. 5,, p and x).

If we compare our successive transverse sections, and cut others at various levels along the young root, it will be clear that, as we pass from the tip of the root to parts farther behind, certain changes must be going on, which result first in the definite marking out of the axial cylinder, and then in the development of these vascular bundles and of other parts we will not describe in detail.

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 If, in addition to these successive transverse sections, we examine a carefully prepared longitudinal section, cut so as to pass accurately through the median plane of the root, the comparison not only establishes the above conclusion, but it enables us to be certain of yet other facts (Fig. 6). Such a section shows the root-cap covering the tip as a thimble the end of the finger, and the rim of this root-cap is evidently fraying away behind; the cells of which it is composed die and slough off as the root pushes its way between the abrading particles of soil. Obviously this loss of worn-out tissue must be made good in some way, and closer examination shows how this occurs. The extreme tip of the root proper fits closely into the cap, and evidently adds cells to the inside of the latter, and thus replaces the old ones which are worn away. At this true tip of the root, moreover, we make another discovery, namely, that all the cells are there alike in shape, size, and other peculiarities; and if we could take a

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 transverse section exactly at this place we should see no differentiation into axial cylinder and root-cortex, etc.; the small circular mass would consist of cells all alike, and with very thin walls and full of dense protoplasm. This undifferentiated formative tissue is called the embryonic tissue of the root (Fig. 6, m). A little behind this we see the axis-cylinder and root-cortex already formed; still farther away we see the vascular bundles appearing, first as very thin cords, and then getting stronger and stronger as we recede from the tip (Fig. 6, ph and x); and similarly we trace the gradual development of the other parts in acropetal succession—i.e., the nearer we go to the apex the younger the parts are.

Now, there is a conclusion of some importance to be drawn from the putting together of these facts—namely, that all the structures found between the embryonic tissue at the tip of the root and the place where the root joins the stem have been gradually formed from the embryonic tissue in acropetal succession. We may picture this by marking a given level on the root, some distance away from the tip, where the axis-cylinder is sharply marked and has well-developed vascular bundles, the root-cortex is distinct, and the piliferous layer bears root-hairs, and remembering that so many days or weeks ago this very spot was in the then growing-point, and consisted of embryonic tissue with the cells all alike. Or we may put it in a different way thus: the present growing-point consists of embryonic

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 cells all alike; in a few days some of these cells will have changed into constituents of the axis-cylinder and cortex, and subsequently some of them will give rise to vascular bundles, etc. Not all, however; and it is necessary to understand that as the embryonic tissue moves onward and leaves the structures referred to in its wake, it does so by producing new embryonic cells in front—i.e., between the present ones and the root-cap.

We must now look a little more closely into the structure of the axial cylinder, at a level a little behind the region where the root-hairs are produced on the piliferous layer.

A thin transverse section in this region shows that the root-hairs have all died away, and the walls of the cells of the piliferous layer are becoming discolored, being, in fact, converted into a brown, cork-like substance impervious to moisture, or nearly so; consequently the piliferous layer is no longer absorptive, and it will soon be thrown off, as we shall see.

The cortex offers little to notice, except that its cells are being passively stretched or compressed by the growth and processes going on in the axial cylinder; and it is this cylinder that attracts our special attention, and several points not noticed before must now be examined in some detail.

In the first place, the cylinder is demarkated off from the cortex by a single layer of cells shaped like bricks, and with a sort of black dot on the radial walls; this is called the endodermis, and may be regarded as a

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 sheath limiting what belongs to the axis-cylinder (Fig. 5,, sh). Inside this endodermis are about two rows of thin-walled cells full of protoplasm, and forming a continuous layer beneath the endodermis. This layer is termed the pericycle (Fig, 5,, per) and it is a very important structure, because its cells give rise, by repeated divisions, to the lateral rootlets, which then grow out and burst their way through the endodermis, cortex, and piliferous layer, and so reach the soil. It is, of course, necessary to bear in mind that the endodermis and pericycle are concentric cylinders superposed on the axis of the root, as it were, and only appear as rings on the transverse section.

Inside the pericycle are arranged the vascular bundles, and we shall have to devote a few words of explanation to these remarkable and somewhat complex structures.

The section shows that there are about ten alternating groups of tissue constituting these bundles, and again the reader must bear in mind that each group is the transverse section of a long cord running up and down the root. Of these groups five are much more conspicuous than the other five, because they consist chiefly of more or less polygonal openings with firm, dark contours. These are the xylem vessels of the vascular bundles (Fig. 5,, x), and we must note the following facts about them: In the first place, they are smaller nearer the pericycle than they are nearer the center of the axial cylinder, and the comparison of

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 numerous transverse sections at different levels of the root would prove that the smallest vessels are the first to develop; whence we learn two facts—namely, that the xylem vessels of the young root are developed in centripetal order, and that the later ones have a larger caliber than those formed earlier.

If longitudinal sections are compared with these transverse ones—and I may here observe that it is only by means of numerous such comparisons that these matters have been gradually discovered—it is found that each vessel is a long tube, usually containing air and water when complete, the lateral walls of which are curiously and beautifully marked with characteristic thick and thin ornamentation. It must suffice here to say that the small, outer, first-formed vessels are marked with a spiral thickening, reminding one of caoutchouc gas-tubing kept open by means of a spiral wire inside; while the larger ones, developed later, usually have numerous small pits on their walls, reminding one of mouths, and the structure of which is very curious. Consequently these groups of xylem vessels are said to consist of spiral and pitted vessels, and their chief function is to convey water up the root to the stem (cf. Fig. 16). Packed in between these vessels are certain cells known as the wood-cells.

Returning to the transverse section, we saw that between each xylem group described above there is a group of structures differing from the latter in their less distinct outlines; these alternate groups are known as

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 phloëm, and we may shortly examine the elements of which they are composed, as before, by comparing sections of various kinds.

Here, again, we find the chief structures in the phloëm are also vessels—i.e., long, tubular organs—but very different in detail from the vessels of the xylem.

In the first place, their walls are thin and soft, and composed of the unaltered cellulose which is so characteristic of young cells (instead of being hard, like the lignified wails of the xylem vessels); then, again, they contain protoplasm and other organized cell contents, instead of merely air and water. Finally, they are not so completely tubular as the typical xylem vessels are, because the transverse septa of the constituent cells are not absorbed, but are merely pierced by fine strands of protoplasm, and therefore look like sieves when viewed from above—whence the name "sieve-tubes." In the phloëm also we find cells—phloëm-cells—packed in between the sieve-tubes.

If we shortly summarize the above we find that the root consists of an axis-cylinder surrounded by a cortex and the piliferous layer. At the tip the whole is covered by the root-cap, which is organically connected with the embryonic tissue which forms all these structures. The axis-cylinder is somewhat complex; it is sheathed by the endodermis and the pericyle, the latter of which gives origin to the new rootlets. Inside the pericycle are the vascular bundles running up and down as separate, alternate cords of xylem and phloëm;

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7.—Portion of young growing ends of more advanced root, with numerous rootlets. Some of the latter are much branched into tuft-like collections, m; these form the so-called Mycorhiza. Natural size.

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 16.— The various chief elements of the wood of the oak, isolated by maceration, and highly magnified. f, a fiber, distinguished by its thick walls, simple slit-like pits, and no contents; w.p, part of a row of wood-parenchyma cells, with simple pits, and containing starch in winter; tr., a tracheid, distinguished from the fiber especially by its bordered pits; p.v, part of a rather large pitted vessel, made up of communicating segments, each of which corresponds to a tracheid, and has bordered pits on its walls; sp. part of a spiral vessel.

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The Crystal Crypt

By PHILIP K. DICK

"Attention, Inner-Flight ship! Attention! You are ordered to land at the Control Station on Deimos for inspection. Attention! You are to land at once!"

The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed through the corridors of the great ship. The passengers glanced at each other uneasily, murmuring and peering out the port windows at the small speck below, the dot of rock that was the Martian checkpoint, Deimos.

"What's up?" an anxious passenger asked one of the pilots, hurrying through the ship to check the escape lock.

"We have to land. Keep seated." The pilot went on.

"Land? But why?" They all looked at each other. Hovering above the bulging Inner-Flight ship were three slender Martian pursuit craft, poised and alert for any emergency. As the Inner-Flight ship prepared to land the pursuit ships dropped lower, carefully maintaining themselves a short distance away.

"There's something going on," a woman passenger said nervously. "Lord, I thought we were finally through with those Martians. Now what?"

"I don't blame them for giving us one last going over," a heavy-set business man said to his companion. "After all, we're the last ship leaving Mars for Terra. We're damn lucky they let us go at all."

"You think there really will be war?" A young man said to the girl sitting in the seat next to him. "Those Martians won't dare fight, not with our weapons and ability to produce. We could take care of Mars in a month. It's all talk."

The girl glanced at him. "Don't be so sure. Mars is desperate. They'll fight tooth and nail. I've been on Mars three years." She shuddered. "Thank goodness I'm getting away. If—"

"Prepare to land!" the pilot's voice came. The ship began to settle slowly, dropping down toward the tiny emergency field on the seldom visited moon. Down, down the ship dropped. There was a grinding sound, a sickening jolt. Then silence.

"We've landed," the heavy-set business man said. "They better not do anything to us! Terra will rip them apart if they violate one Space Article."

"Please keep your seats," the pilot's voice came. "No one is to leave the ship, according to the Martian authorities. We are to remain here."

A restless stir filled the ship. Some of the passengers began to read uneasily, others stared out at the deserted field, nervous and on edge, watching the three Martian pursuit ships land and disgorge groups of armed men.

The Martian soldiers were crossing the field quickly, moving toward them, running double time.

This Inner-Flight spaceship was the last passenger vessel to leave Mars for Terra. All other ships had long since left, returning to safety before the outbreak of hostilities. The passengers were the very last to go, the final group of Terrans to leave the grim red planet, business men, expatriates, tourists, any and all Terrans who had not already gone home.

"What do you suppose they want?" the young man said to the girl. "It's hard to figure Martians out, isn't it? First they give the ship clearance, let us take off, and now they radio us to set down again. By the way, my name's Thacher, Bob Thacher. Since we're going to be here awhile—"

[Illustration]

The port lock opened. Talking ceased abruptly, as everyone turned. A black-clad Martian official, a Province Leiter, stood framed against the bleak sunlight, staring around the ship. Behind him a handful of Martian soldiers stood waiting, their guns ready.

"This will not take long," the Leiter said, stepping into the ship, the soldiers following him. "You will be allowed to continue your trip shortly."

An audible sigh of relief went through the passengers.

"Look at him," the girl whispered to Thacher. "How I hate those black uniforms!"

"He's just a Provincial Leiter," Thacher said. "Don't worry."

The Leiter stood for a moment, his hands on his hips, looking around at them without expression. "I have ordered your ship grounded so that an inspection can be made of all persons aboard," he said. "You Terrans are the last to leave our planet. Most of you are ordinary and harmless— I am not interested in you. I am interested in finding three saboteurs, three Terrans, two men and a woman, who have committed an incredible act of destruction and violence. They are said to have fled to this ship."

Murmurs of surprise and indignation broke out on all sides. The Leiter motioned the soldiers to follow him up the aisle.

"Two hours ago a Martian city was destroyed. Nothing remains, only a depression in the sand where the city was. The city and all its people have completely vanished. An entire city destroyed in a second! Mars will never rest until the saboteurs are captured. And we know they are aboard this ship."

"It's impossible," the heavy-set business man said. "There aren't any saboteurs here."

"We'll begin with you," the Leiter said to him, stepping up beside the man's seat. One of the soldiers passed the Leiter a square metal box. "This will soon tell us if you're speaking the truth. Stand up. Get on your feet."

The man rose slowly, flushing. "See here—"

"Are you involved in the destruction of the city? Answer!"

The man swallowed angrily. "I know nothing about any destruction of any city. And furthermore—"

"He is telling the truth," the metal box said tonelessly.

"Next person." The Leiter moved down the aisle.

A thin, bald-headed man stood up nervously. "No, sir," he said. "I don't know a thing about it."

"He is telling the truth," the box affirmed.

"Next person! Stand up!"

One person after another stood, answered, and sat down again in relief. At last there were only a few people left who had not been questioned. The Leiter paused, studying them intently.

"Only five left. The three must be among you. We have narrowed it down." His hand moved to his belt. Something flashed, a rod of pale fire. He raised the rod, pointing it steadily at the five people. "All right, the first one of you. What do you know about this destruction? Are you involved with the destruction of our city?"

"No, not at all," the man murmured.

"Yes, he's telling the truth," the box intoned.

"Next!"

"Nothing— I know nothing. I had nothing to do with it."

"True," the box said.

The ship was silent. Three people remained, a middle-aged man and his wife and their son, a boy of about twelve. They stood in the corner, staring white-faced at the Leiter, at the rod in his dark fingers.

"It must be you," the Leiter grated, moving toward them. The Martian soldiers raised their guns. "It must be you. You there, the boy. What do you know about the destruction of our city? Answer!"

The boy shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered.

The box was silent for a moment. "He is telling the truth," it said reluctantly.

"Next!"

"Nothing," the woman muttered. "Nothing."

"The truth."

"Next!"

"I had nothing to do with blowing up your city," the man said. "You're wasting your time."

"It is the truth," the box said.

For a long time the Leiter stood, toying with his rod. At last he pushed it back in his belt and signalled the soldiers toward the exit lock.

"You may proceed on your trip," he said. He walked after the soldiers. At the hatch he stopped, looking back at the passengers, his face grim. "You may go— But Mars will not allow her enemies to escape. The three saboteurs will be caught, I promise you." He rubbed his dark jaw thoughtfully. "It is strange. I was certain they were on this ship."

Again he looked coldly around at the Terrans.

"Perhaps I was wrong. All right, proceed! But remember: the three will be caught, even if it takes endless years. Mars will catch them and punish them! I swear it!"

For a long time no one spoke. The ship lumbered through space again, its jets firing evenly, calmly, moving the passengers toward their own planet, toward home. Behind them Deimos and the red ball that was Mars dropped farther and farther away each moment, disappearing and fading into the distance.

A sigh of relief passed through the passengers. "What a lot of hot air that was," one grumbled.

"Barbarians!" a woman said.

A few of them stood up, moving out into the aisle, toward the lounge and the cocktail bar. Beside Thacher the girl got to her feet, pulling her jacket around her shoulders.

"Pardon me," she said, stepping past him.

"Going to the bar?" Thacher said. "Mind if I come along?"

"I suppose not."

They followed the others into the lounge, walking together up the aisle. "You know," Thacher said, "I don't even know your name, yet."

"My name is Mara Gordon."

"Mara? That's a nice name. What part of Terra are you from? North America? New York?"

"I've been in New York," Mara said. "New York is very lovely." She was slender and pretty, with a cloud of dark hair tumbling down her neck, against her leather jacket.

They entered the lounge and stood undecided.

"Let's sit at a table," Mara said, looking around at the people at the bar, mostly men. "Perhaps that table over there."

"But someone's there already," Thacher said. The heavy-set business man had sat down at the table and deposited his sample case on the floor. "Do we want to sit with him?"

"Oh, it's all right," Mara said, crossing to the table. "May we sit here?" she said to the man.

The man looked up, half-rising. "It's a pleasure," he murmured. He studied Thacher intently. "However, a friend of mine will be joining me in a moment."

"I'm sure there's room enough for us all," Mara said. She seated herself and Thacher helped her with her chair. He sat down, too, glancing up suddenly at Mara and the business man. They were looking at each other almost as if something had passed between them. The man was middle-aged, with a florid face and tired, grey eyes. His hands were mottled with the veins showing thickly. At the moment he was tapping nervously.

"My name's Thacher," Thacher said to him, holding out his hand. "Bob Thacher. Since we're going to be together for a while we might as well get to know each other."

The man studied him. Slowly his hand came out. "Why not? My name's Erickson. Ralf Erickson."

"Erickson?" Thacher smiled. "You look like a commercial man, to me." He nodded toward the sample case on the floor. "Am I right?"

The man named Erickson started to answer, but at that moment there was a stir. A thin man of about thirty had come up to the table, his eyes bright, staring down at them warmly. "Well, we're on our way," he said to Erickson.

"Hello, Mara." He pulled out a chair and sat down quickly, folding his hands on the table before him. He noticed Thacher and drew back a little. "Pardon me," he murmured.

"Bob Thacher is my name," Thacher said. "I hope I'm not intruding here." He glanced around at the three of them, Mara, alert, watching him intently, heavy-set Erickson, his face blank, and this person. "Say, do you three know each other?" he asked suddenly.

There was silence.

The robot attendant slid over soundlessly, poised to take their orders. Erickson roused himself. "Let's see," he murmured. "What will we have? Mara?"

"Whiskey and water."

"You, Jan?"

The bright slim man smiled. "The same."

"Thacher?"

"Gin and tonic."

"Whiskey and water for me, also," Erickson said. The robot attendant went off. It returned at once with the drinks, setting them on the table. Each took his own. "Well," Erickson said, holding his glass up. "To our mutual success."

All drank, Thacher and the three of them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just come. Again a look passed between Mara and Erickson, a look so swift that he would not have caught it had he not been looking directly at her.

"What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson?" Thacher asked.

Erickson glanced at him, then down at the sample case on the floor. He grunted. "Well, as you can see, I'm a salesman."

Thacher smiled. "I knew it! You get so you can always spot a salesman right off by his sample case. A salesman always has to carry something to show. What are you in, sir?"

Erickson paused. He licked his thick lips, his eyes blank and lidded, like a toad's. At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand and reached down, lifting up the sample case. He set it on the table in front of him.

"Well?" he said. "Perhaps we might even show Mr. Thacher."

They all stared down at the sample case. It seemed to be an ordinary leather case, with a metal handle and a snap lock. "I'm getting curious," Thacher said. "What's in there? You're all so tense. Diamonds? Stolen jewels?"

Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. "Erick, put it down. We're not far enough away, yet."

"Nonsense," Erick rumbled. "We're away, Jan."

"Please," Mara whispered. "Wait, Erick."

"Wait? Why? What for? You're so accustomed to—"

"Erick," Mara said. She nodded toward Thacher. "We don't know him, Erick. Please!"

"He's a Terran, isn't he?" Erickson said. "All Terrans are together in these times." He fumbled suddenly at the catch lock on the case. "Yes, Mr. Thacher. I'm a salesman. We're all salesmen, the three of us."

"Then you do know each other."

"Yes." Erickson nodded. His two companions sat rigidly, staring down. "Yes, we do. Here, I'll show you our line."

He opened the case. From it he took a letter-knife, a pencil sharpener, a glass globe paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a stapler, some clips, a plastic ashtray, and some things Thacher could not identify. He placed the objects in a row in front of him on the table top. Then he closed the sample case.

"I gather you're in office supplies," Thacher said. He touched the letter-knife with his finger. "Nice quality steel. Looks like Swedish steel, to me."

Erickson nodded, looking into Thacher's face. "Not really an impressive business, is it? Office supplies. Ashtrays, paper clips." He smiled.

"Oh—" Thacher shrugged. "Why not? They're a necessity in modern business. The only thing I wonder—"

"What's that?"

"Well, I wonder how you'd ever find enough customers on Mars to make it worth your while." He paused, examining the glass paperweight. He lifted it up, holding it to the light, staring at the scene within until Erickson took it out of his hand and put it back in the sample case. "And another thing. If you three know each other, why did you sit apart when you got on?"

They looked at him quickly.

"And why didn't you speak to each other until we left Deimos?" He leaned toward Erickson, smiling at him. "Two men and a woman. Three of you. Sitting apart in the ship. Not speaking, not until the check-station was past. I find myself thinking over what the Martian said. Three saboteurs. A woman and two men."

Erickson put the things back in the sample case. He was smiling, but his face had gone chalk white. Mara stared down, playing with a drop of water on the edge of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together nervously, blinking rapidly.

"You three are the ones the Leiter was after," Thacher said softly. "You are the destroyers, the saboteurs. But their lie detector— Why didn't it trap you? How did you get by that? And now you're safe, outside the check-station." He grinned, staring around at them. "I'll be damned! And I really thought you were a salesman, Erickson. You really fooled me."

Erickson relaxed a little. "Well, Mr. Thacher, it's in a good cause. I'm sure you have no love for Mars, either. No Terran does. And I see you're leaving with the rest of us."

"True," Thacher said. "You must certainly have an interesting account to give, the three of you." He looked around the table.

"We still have an hour or so of travel. Sometimes it gets dull, this Mars-Terra run. Nothing to see, nothing to do but sit and drink in the lounge." He raised his eyes slowly. "Any chance you'd like to spin a story to keep us awake?"

Jan and Mara looked at Erickson. "Go on," Jan said. "He knows who we are. Tell him the rest of the story."

"You might as well," Mara said.

Jan let out a sigh suddenly, a sigh of relief. "Let's put the cards on the table, get this weight off us. I'm tired of sneaking around, slipping—"

"Sure," Erickson said expansively. "Why not?" He settled back in his chair, unbuttoning his vest. "Certainly, Mr. Thacher. I'll be glad to spin you a story. And I'm sure it will be interesting enough to keep you awake."

They ran through the groves of dead trees, leaping across the sun-baked Martian soil, running silently together. They went up a little rise, across a narrow ridge. Suddenly Erick stopped, throwing himself down flat on the ground. The others did the same, pressing themselves against the soil, gasping for breath.

"Be silent," Erick muttered. He raised himself a little. "No noise. There'll be Leiters nearby, from now on. We don't dare take any chances."

Between the three people lying in the grove of dead trees and the City was a barren, level waste of desert, over a mile of blasted sand. No trees or bushes marred the smooth, parched surface. Only an occasional wind, a dry wind eddying and twisting, blew the sand up into little rills. A faint odor came to them, a bitter smell of heat and sand, carried by the wind.

Erick pointed. "Look. The City— There it is."

They stared, still breathing deeply from their race through the trees. The City was close, closer than they had ever seen it before. Never had they gotten so close to it in times past. Terrans were never allowed near the great Martian cities, the centers of Martian life. Even in ordinary times, when there was no threat of approaching war, the Martians shrewdly kept all Terrans away from their citadels, partly from fear, partly from a deep, innate sense of hostility toward the white-skinned visitors whose commercial ventures had earned them the respect, and the dislike, of the whole system.

"How does it look to you?" Erick said.

The City was huge, much larger than they had imagined from the drawings and models they had studied so carefully back in New York, in the War Ministry Office. Huge it was, huge and stark, black towers rising up against the sky, incredibly thin columns of ancient metal, columns that had stood wind and sun for centuries. Around the City was a wall of stone, red stone, immense bricks that had been lugged there and fitted into place by slaves of the early Martian dynasties, under the whiplash of the first great Kings of Mars.

An ancient, sun-baked City, a City set in the middle of a wasted plain, beyond groves of dead trees, a City seldom seen by Terrans—but a City studied on maps and charts in every War Office on Terra. A City that contained, for all its ancient stone and archaic towers, the ruling group of all Mars, the Council of Senior Leiters, black-clad men who governed and ruled with an iron hand.

The Senior Leiters, twelve fanatic and devoted men, black priests, but priests with flashing rods of fire, lie detectors, rocket ships, intra-space cannon, many more things the Terran Senate could only conjecture about. The Senior Leiters and their subordinate Province Leiters— Erick and the two behind him suppressed a shudder.

"We've got to be careful," Erick said again. "We'll be passing among them, soon. If they guess who we are, or what we're here for—"

He snapped open the case he carried, glancing inside for a second. Then he closed it again, grasping the handle firmly. "Let's go," he said. He stood up slowly. "You two come up beside me. I want to make sure you look the way you should."

Mara and Jan stepped quickly ahead. Erick studied them critically as the three of them walked slowly down the slope, onto the plain, toward the towering black spires of the City.

"Jan," Erick said. "Take hold of her hand! Remember, you're going to marry her; she's your bride. And Martian peasants think a lot of their brides."

Jan was dressed in the short trousers and coat of the Martian farmer, a knotted rope tied around his waist, a hat on his head to keep off the sun. His skin was dark, colored by dye until it was almost bronze.

"You look fine," Erick said to him. He glanced at Mara. Her black hair was tied in a knot, looped through a hollowed-out yuke bone. Her face was dark, too, dark and lined with colored ceremonial pigment, green and orange stripes across her cheeks. Earrings were strung through her ears. On her feet were tiny slippers of perruh hide, laced around her ankles, and she wore long translucent Martian trousers with a bright sash tied around her waist. Between her small breasts a chain of stone beads rested, good-luck charms for the coming marriage.

"All right," Erick said. He, himself, wore the flowing grey robe of a Martian priest, dirty robes that were supposed to remain on him all his life, to be buried around him when he died. "I think we'll get past the guards. There should be heavy morning traffic on the road."

They walked on, the hard sand crunching under their feet. Against the horizon they could see specks moving, other persons going toward the City, farmers and peasants and merchants, bringing their crops and goods to market.

"See the cart!" Mara exclaimed.

They were nearing a narrow road, two ruts worn into the sand. A Martian hufa was pulling the cart, its great sides wet with perspiration, its tongue hanging out. The cart was piled high with bales of cloth, rough country cloth, hand dipped. A bent farmer urged the hufa on.

"And there." She pointed, smiling.

A group of merchants riding small animals were moving along behind the cart, Martians in long robes, their faces hidden by sand masks. On each animal was a pack, carefully tied on with rope. And beyond the merchants, plodding dully along, were peasants and farmers in an endless procession, some riding carts or animals, but mostly on foot.

Mara and Jan and Erick joined the line of people, melting in behind the merchants. No one noticed them; no one looked up or gave any sign. The march continued as before. Neither Jan nor Mara said anything to each other. They walked a little behind Erick, who paced with a certain dignity, a certain bearing becoming his position.

Once he slowed down, pointing up at the sky. "Look," he murmured, in the Martian hill dialect. "See that?"

Two black dots circled lazily. Martian patrol craft, the military on the outlook for any sign of unusual activity. War was almost ready to break out with Terra. Any day, almost any moment.

"We'll be just in time," Erick said. "Tomorrow will be too late. The last ship will have left Mars."

"I hope nothing stops us," Mara said. "I want to get back home when we're through."

Half an hour passed. They neared the City, the wall growing as they walked, rising higher and higher until it seemed to blot out the sky itself. A vast wall, a wall of eternal stone that had felt the wind and sun for centuries. A group of Martian soldiers were standing at the entrance, the single passage-gate hewn into the rock, leading to the City. As each person went through the soldiers examined him, poking his garments, looking into his load.

Erick tensed. The line had slowed almost to a halt. "It'll be our turn, soon," he murmured. "Be prepared."

"Let's hope no Leiters come around," Jan said. "The soldiers aren't so bad."

Mara was staring up at the wall and the towers beyond. Under their feet the ground trembled, vibrating and shaking. She could see tongues of flame rising from the towers, from the deep underground factories and forges of the City. The air was thick and dense with particles of soot. Mara rubbed her mouth, coughing.

"Here they come," Erick said softly.

The merchants had been examined and allowed to pass through the dark gate, the entrance through the wall into the City. They and their silent animals had already disappeared inside. The leader of the group of soldiers was beckoning impatiently to Erick, waving him on.

"Come along!" he said. "Hurry up there, old man."

Erick advanced slowly, his arms wrapped around his body, looking down at the ground.

"Who are you and what's your business here?" the soldier demanded, his hands on his hips, his gun hanging idly at his waist. Most of the soldiers were lounging lazily, leaning against the wall, some even squatting in the shade. Flies crawled on the face of one who had fallen asleep, his gun on the ground beside him.

"My business?" Erick murmured. "I am a village priest."

"Why do you want to enter the City?"

"I must bring these two people before the magistrate to marry them." He indicated Mara and Jan, standing a little behind him. "That is the Law the Leiters have made."

The soldier laughed. He circled around Erick. "What do you have in that bag you carry?"

"Laundry. We stay the night."

"What village are you from?"

"Kranos."

"Kranos?" The soldier looked to a companion. "Ever heard of Kranos?"

"A backward pig sty. I saw it once on a hunting trip."

The leader of the soldiers nodded to Jan and Mara. The two of them advanced, their hands clasped, standing close together. One of the soldiers put his hand on Mara's bare shoulder, turning her around.

"Nice little wife you're getting," he said. "Good and firm-looking." He winked, grinning lewdly.

Jan glanced at him in sullen resentment. The soldiers guffawed. "All right," the leader said to Erick. "You people can pass."

Erick took a small purse from his robes and gave the soldier a coin. Then the three of them went into the dark tunnel that was the entrance, passing through the wall of stone, into the City beyond.

They were within the City!

"Now," Erick whispered. "Hurry."

Around them the City roared and cracked, the sound of a thousand vents and machines, shaking the stones under their feet. Erick led Mara and Jan into a corner, by a row of brick warehouses. People were everywhere, hurrying back and forth, shouting above the din, merchants, peddlers, soldiers, street women. Erick bent down and opened the case he carried. From the case he quickly took three small coils of fine metal, intricate meshed wires and vanes worked together into a small cone. Jan took one and Mara took one. Erick put the remaining cone into his robe and snapped the case shut again.

"Now remember, the coils must be buried in such a way that the line runs through the center of the City. We must trisect the main section, where the largest concentration of buildings is. Remember the maps! Watch the alleys and streets carefully. Talk to no one if you can help it. Each of you has enough Martian money to buy your way out of trouble. Watch especially for cut-purses, and for heaven's sake, don't get lost."

Erick broke off. Two black-clad Leiters were coming along the inside of the wall, strolling together with their hands behind their backs. They noticed the three who stood in the corner by the warehouses and stopped.

"Go," Erick muttered. "And be back here at sundown." He smiled grimly. "Or never come back."

Each went off a different way, walking quickly without looking back. The Leiters watched them go. "The little bride was quite lovely," one Leiter said. "Those hill people have the stamp of nobility in their blood, from the old times."

"A very lucky young peasant to possess her," the other said. They went on. Erick looked after them, still smiling a little. Then he joined the surging mass of people that milled eternally through the streets of the City.

At dusk they met outside the gate. The sun was soon to set, and the air had turned thin and frigid. It cut through their clothing like knives.

Mara huddled against Jan, trembling and rubbing her bare arms.

"Well?" Erick said. "Did you both succeed?"

Around them peasants and merchants were pouring from the entrance, leaving the City to return to their farms and villages, starting the long trip back across the plain toward the hills beyond. None of them noticed the shivering girl and the young man and the old priest standing by the wall.

"Mine's in place," Jan said. "On the other side of the City, on the extreme edge. Buried by a well."

"Mine's in the industrial section," Mara whispered, her teeth chattering. "Jan, give me something to put over me! I'm freezing."

"Good," Erick said. "Then the three coils should trisect dead center, if the models were correct." He looked up at the darkening sky. Already, stars were beginning to show. Two dots, the evening patrol, moved slowly toward the horizon. "Let's hurry. It won't be long."

They joined the line of Martians moving along the road, away from the City. Behind them the City was losing itself in the sombre tones of night, its black spires disappearing into darkness.

They walked silently with the country people until the flat ridge of dead trees became visible on the horizon. Then they left the road and turned off, walking toward the trees.

"Almost time!" Erick said. He increased his pace, looking back at Jan and Mara impatiently.

"Come on!"

They hurried, making their way through the twilight, stumbling over rocks and dead branches, up the side of the ridge. At the top Erick halted, standing with his hands on his hips, looking back.

"See," he murmured. "The City. The last time we'll ever see it this way."

"Can I sit down?" Mara said. "My feet hurt me."

Jan pulled at Erick's sleeve. "Hurry, Erick! Not much time left." He laughed nervously. "If everything goes right we'll be able to look at it—forever."

"But not like this," Erick murmured. He squatted down, snapping his case open. He took some tubes and wiring out and assembled them together on the ground, at the peak of the ridge. A small pyramid of wire and plastic grew, shaped by his expert hands.

At last he grunted, standing up. "All right."

"Is it pointed directly at the City?" Mara asked anxiously, looking down at the pyramid.

Erick nodded. "Yes, it's placed according—" He stopped, suddenly stiffening. "Get back! It's time! Hurry!"

Jan ran, down the far side of the slope, away from the City, pulling Mara with him. Erick came quickly after, still looking back at the distant spires, almost lost in the night sky.

"Down."

Jan sprawled out, Mara beside him, her trembling body pressed against his. Erick settled down into the sand and dead branches, still trying to see. "I want to see it," he murmured. "A miracle. I want to see—"

A flash, a blinding burst of violet light, lit up the sky. Erick clapped his hands over his eyes. The flash whitened, growing larger, expanding. Suddenly there was a roar, and a furious hot wind rushed past him, throwing him on his face in the sand. The hot dry wind licked and seared at them, crackling the bits of branches into flame. Mara and Jan shut their eyes, pressed tightly together.

"God—" Erick muttered.

The storm passed. They opened their eyes slowly. The sky was still alive with fire, a drifting cloud of sparks that was beginning to dissipate with the night wind. Erick stood up unsteadily, helping Jan and Mara to their feet. The three of them stood, staring silently across the dark waste, the black plain, none of them speaking.

The City was gone.

At last Erick turned away. "That part's done," he said. "Now the rest! Give me a hand, Jan. There'll be a thousand patrol ships around here in a minute."

"I see one already," Mara said, pointing up. A spot winked in the sky, a rapidly moving spot. "They're coming, Erick." There was a throb of chill fear in her voice.

"I know." Erick and Jan squatted on the ground around the pyramid of tubes and plastic, pulling the pyramid apart. The pyramid was fused, fused together like molten glass. Erick tore the pieces away with trembling fingers. From the remains of the pyramid he pulled something forth, something he held up high, trying to make it out in the darkness. Jan and Mara came close to see, both staring up intently, almost without breathing.

"There it is," Erick said. "There!"

In his hand was a globe, a small transparent globe of glass. Within the glass something moved, something minute and fragile, spires almost too small to be seen, microscopic, a complex web swimming within the hollow glass globe. A web of spires. A City.

Erick put the globe into the case and snapped it shut. "Let's go," he said. They began to lope back through the trees, back the way they had come before. "We'll change in the car," he said as they ran. "I think we should keep these clothes on until we're actually inside the car. We still might encounter someone."

"I'll be glad to get my own clothing on again," Jan said. "I feel funny in these little pants."

"How do you think I feel?" Mara gasped. "I'm freezing in this, what there is of it."

"All young Martian brides dress that way," Erick said. He clutched the case tightly as they ran. "I think it looks fine."

"Thank you," Mara said, "but it is cold."

"What do you suppose they'll think?" Jan asked. "They'll assume the City was destroyed, won't they? That's certain."

"Yes," Erick said. "They'll be sure it was blown up. We can count on that. And it will be damn important to us that they think so!"

"The car should be around here, someplace," Mara said, slowing down.

"No. Farther on," Erick said. "Past that little hill over there. In the ravine, by the trees. It's so hard to see where we are."

"Shall I light something?" Jan said.

"No. There may be patrols around who—"

He halted abruptly. Jan and Mara stopped beside him. "What—" Mara began.

A light glimmered. Something stirred in the darkness. There was a sound.

"Quick!" Erick rasped. He dropped, throwing the case far away from him, into the bushes. He straightened up tensely.

A figure loomed up, moving through the darkness, and behind it came more figures, men, soldiers in uniform. The light flashed up brightly, blinding them. Erick closed his eyes. The light left him, touching Mara and Jan, standing silently together, clasping hands. Then it flicked down to the ground and around in a circle.

A Leiter stepped forward, a tall figure in black, with his soldiers close behind him, their guns ready. "You three," the Leiter said. "Who are you? Don't move. Stand where you are."

He came up to Erick, peering at him intently, his hard Martian face without expression. He went all around Erick, examining his robes, his sleeves.

"Please—" Erick began in a quavering voice, but the Leiter cut him off.

"I'll do the talking. Who are you three? What are you doing here? Speak up."

"We—we are going back to our village," Erick muttered, staring down, his hands folded. "We were in the City, and now we are going home."

One of the soldiers spoke into a mouthpiece. He clicked it off and put it away.

"Come with me," the Leiter said. "We're taking you in. Hurry along."

"In? Back to the City?"

One of the soldiers laughed. "The City is gone," he said. "All that's left of it you can put in the palm of your hand."

"But what happened?" Mara said.

"No one knows. Come on, hurry it up!"

There was a sound. A soldier came quickly out of the darkness. "A Senior Leiter," he said. "Coming this way." He disappeared again.

"A Senior Leiter." The soldiers stood waiting, standing at a respectful attention. A moment later the Senior Leiter stepped into the light, a black-clad old man, his ancient face thin and hard, like a bird's, eyes bright and alert. He looked from Erick to Jan.

"Who are these people?" he demanded.

"Villagers going back home."

"No, they're not. They don't stand like villagers. Villagers slump—diet, poor food. These people are not villagers. I myself came from the hills, and I know."

He stepped close to Erick, looking keenly into his face. "Who are you? Look at his chin—he never shaved with a sharpened stone! Something is wrong here."

In his hand a rod of pale fire flashed. "The City is gone, and with it at least half the Leiter Council. It is very strange, a flash, then heat, and a wind. But it was not fission. I am puzzled. All at once the City has vanished. Nothing is left but a depression in the sand."

"We'll take them in," the other Leiter said. "Soldiers, surround them. Make certain that—"

"Run!" Erick cried. He struck out, knocking the rod from the Senior Leiter's hand. They were all running, soldiers shouting, flashing their lights, stumbling against each other in the darkness. Erick dropped to his knees, groping frantically in the bushes. His fingers closed over the handle of the case and he leaped up. In Terran he shouted to Mara and Jan.

"Hurry! To the car! Run!" He set off, down the slope, stumbling through the darkness. He could hear soldiers behind him, soldiers running and falling. A body collided against him and he struck out. Someplace behind him there was a hiss, and a section of the slope went up in flames. The Leiter's rod—

"Erick," Mara cried from the darkness. He ran toward her. Suddenly he slipped, falling on a stone. Confusion and firing. The sound of excited voices.

"Erick, is that you?" Jan caught hold of him, helping him up. "The car. It's over here. Where's Mara?"

"I'm here," Mara's voice came. "Over here, by the car."

A light flashed. A tree went up in a puff of fire, and Erick felt the singe of the heat against his face. He and Jan made their way toward the girl. Mara's hand caught his in the darkness.

"Now the car," Erick said. "If they haven't got to it." He slid down the slope into the ravine, fumbling in the darkness, reaching and holding onto the handle of the case. Reaching, reaching—

He touched something cold and smooth. Metal, a metal door handle. Relief flooded through him. "I've found it! Jan, get inside. Mara, come on." He pushed Jan past him, into the car. Mara slipped in after Jan, her small agile body crowding in beside him.

"Stop!" a voice shouted from above. "There's no use hiding in that ravine. We'll get you! Come up and—"

The sound of voices was drowned out by the roar of the car's motor. A moment later they shot into the darkness, the car rising into the air. Treetops broke and cracked under them as Erick turned the car from side to side, avoiding the groping shafts of pale light from below, the last furious thrusts from the two Leiters and their soldiers.

Then they were away, above the trees, high in the air, gaining speed each moment, leaving the knot of Martians far behind.

"Toward Marsport," Jan said to Erick. "Right?"

Erick nodded. "Yes. We'll land outside the field, in the hills. We can change back to our regular clothing there, our commercial clothing. Damn it—we'll be lucky if we can get there in time for the ship."

"The last ship," Mara whispered, her chest rising and falling. "What if we don't get there in time?"

Erick looked down at the leather case in his lap. "We'll have to get there," he murmured. "We must!"

For a long time there was silence. Thacher stared at Erickson. The older man was leaning back in his chair, sipping a little of his drink. Mara and Jan were silent.

"So you didn't destroy the City," Thacher said. "You didn't destroy it at all. You shrank it down and put it in a glass globe, in a paperweight. And now you're salesmen again, with a sample case of office supplies!"

Erickson smiled. He opened the briefcase and reaching into it he brought out the glass globe paperweight. He held it up, looking into it. "Yes, we stole the City from the Martians. That's how we got by the lie detector. It was true that we knew nothing about a destroyed City."

"But why?" Thacher said. "Why steal a City? Why not merely bomb it?"

"Ransom," Mara said fervently, gazing into the globe, her dark eyes bright. "Their biggest City, half of their Council—in Erick's hand!"

"Mars will have to do what Terra asks," Erickson said. "Now Terra will be able to make her commercial demands felt. Maybe there won't even be a war. Perhaps Terra will get her way without fighting." Still smiling, he put the globe back into the briefcase and locked it.

"Quite a story," Thacher said. "What an amazing process, reduction of size— A whole City reduced to microscopic dimensions. Amazing. No wonder you were able to escape. With such daring as that, no one could hope to stop you."

He looked down at the briefcase on the floor. Underneath them the jets murmured and vibrated evenly, as the ship moved through space toward distant Terra.

"We still have quite a way to go," Jan said. "You've heard our story, Thacher. Why not tell us yours? What sort of line are you in? What's your business?"

"Yes," Mara said. "What do you do?"

"What do I do?" Thacher said. "Well, if you like, I'll show you." He reached into his coat and brought out something. Something that flashed and glinted, something slender. A rod of pale fire.

The three stared at it. Sickened shock settled over them slowly.

Thacher held the rod loosely, calmly, pointing it at Erickson. "We knew you three were on this ship," he said. "There was no doubt of that. But we did not know what had become of the City. My theory was that the City had not been destroyed at all, that something else had happened to it. Council instruments measured a sudden loss of mass in that area, a decrease equal to the mass of the City. Somehow the City had been spirited away, not destroyed. But I could not convince the other Council Leiters of it. I had to follow you alone."

Thacher turned a little, nodding to the men sitting at the bar. The men rose at once, coming toward the table.

"A very interesting process you have. Mars will benefit a great deal from it. Perhaps it will even turn the tide in our favor. When we return to Marsport I wish to begin work on it at once. And now, if you will please pass me the briefcase—"

title: The Crystal Crypt


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title: Template:Move to subpage


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text:
User:Chris55/Essay2/Multi-volume works

This is a summary of multi-volume index files. These are index file names which differ in numeric characters: the list below shows the first volume found. The list has those with 3 or more volumes.

title: User:Chris55/Essay2/Multi-volume works


text:
Author:Hugh Munro Ross

Works

 * British Railways: their organisation and management (1904)

Contributions to 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica

 * (House Bell)
 * (Cross-Channel Communication)
 * (in part)
 * (with William Garnett)
 * (Army Signalling (in part) and Railway Signalling (in part))
 * (Modern Practical Typography (in part))
 * (Army Signalling (in part) and Railway Signalling (in part))
 * (Modern Practical Typography (in part))
 * (Army Signalling (in part) and Railway Signalling (in part))
 * (Modern Practical Typography (in part))

title: Author:Hugh Munro Ross


text:
User:Geo Swan/reengaging in terrorism

http://www.defense.gov/news/newsarticle.aspx?id=24933 __NOINDEX__

WASHINGTON, Nov. 3, 2004 – Of the roughly 200 detainees the United States has released from its Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, detention facility, intelligence claims that at least 10 returned to terrorist activity, the deputy assistant secretary of defense for detainee affairs said here Nov. 2.

Matthew Waxman, in an interview with the Pentagon Channel and American Forces Press Service, said former detainees rejoining the fight are a concern for the Defense Department, but so are their rights.

Waxman said that from the beginning of the war on terror, the president has made clear that U.S. armed forces would treat all detainees humanely. That includes releasing individuals who have been determined to pose a sufficiently low risk of returning to violence, he said. But with no formula for making that determination, DoD doesn't want to hold anyone longer than is necessary. It's all about managing risks, he said, not eliminating them.

"It's a case-by-case determination of, not only the threat that an individual detainee would pose, but also the continuing intelligence value or law enforcement value of an individual," he said.

Officials realize, he said, that any decision to release a detainee from custody who was picked up on the battlefield carries a risk of that individual returning to the fight. In light of that realization, he continued, all available information is considered to determine the amount of risk posed by releasing an individual. And the process is evolving as DoD learns from experience.

"This has been an evolutionary process. We're always looking to improve the way that we analyze cases and make determinations," Waxman said. "One important change has been the development of a formalized procedure -- an annual administrative review board procedure that's going to be run by the secretary of the Navy."

The board will determine which individuals need to be detained at Guantanamo and which can be transferred to their home country, he said.

Thus far, 202 detainees have been released or transferred from Guantanamo. Some have been released outright, and others have been transferred to their home countries' government for further detainment, Waxman said.

That 10 of those individuals released returned to terrorist activity only confirms what DoD officials understood from the beginning, he said. "These are dangerous individuals," he continued, "and it's important that we detain them, both to keep them off the battlefield and to learn what we can from them."

It also proves the critical nature of the work being done at Guantanamo Bay, Waxman said.

Not only have individuals been kept off the battlefield, the detentions have allowed the United States to gain information from the detainees through questioning, Waxman explained. It has also provided the chance to bring some of the individuals to justice, he said, whether through military tribunals or prosecution in their home countries.

Steps can be taken to lessen the chances that any more individuals released will return to terrorist activity, he said, the most important being to work with coalition partners to negotiate agreements by which detainees can be transferred back to their home countries. By working with coalition governments, Waxman said, the United States is taking a step to try to mitigate the risk that any individual released will return to terrorist activity.

While efforts continue to refine procedures for releasing detainees, work also continues to improve procedures for handling detainees in the field, particularly in Iraq, Waxman said, most notably through improved facilities. Also, multinational forces in Iraq are working closely with the Iraqi government with the goal of having Iraqi forces shoulder the responsibility of detaining individuals who fight against peace and stability in the country.

title: User:Geo Swan/reengaging in terrorism


text:
1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways

 * Sections
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/General Statistics
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Economics and Legislation
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/British Railway Legislation
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/American Railway Legislation
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Accident Statistics
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Financial Organization
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Construction
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Locomotive Power
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Rolling Stock
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Intra-Urban Railway
 * 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways/Light Railways

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Railways


text:
Page:Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management.djvu/74

48 COOKING APPLIANCES.

The last, but by far the most important of the kitchen requisites that we are called upon to consider is the apparatus which is used for cooking, heating water, etc., usually known as the kitchen range or kitchener, names which originally had a distinctive import, but which have lost much of their primary significencesignifcance [sic], and are now applied without much discrimination to cooking appliances of every kind, whether the fuel used be coal or gas. We will, however, for the sake of clearness, use the terms kitchen range, kitchener, and gas range or stove, to indicate three widely marked varieties of cooking apparatus: (1) the kitchen range, being taken to imply a range, either open or close, that is fixed in its place with brickwork, etc., and is therefore immovable; (2) the kitchener, a range that is entirely independent of all its surroundings, one which stands, usually raised on four low legs, on the hearth in the recess otherwise occupied by the kitchen range, movable in itself when necessary, but virtually a fixture through its weight and size; and (3) the gas range or stove, like the kitchener really movable, though virtually a fixture for the same reasons, but differing from the kitchener, not only in form and in the kind of fuel used, but also in the fact that it need not, like the kitchener, of necessity be placed on the hearth, that the chimney may be utilized as a means of escape for smoke and the various products of combustion, but may be placed in any part of the kitchen convenient for the purpose.

The Kitchen Range.—Kitchen ranges may be distinguished as close and open, the chief point of difference between them being in the construction of the fire-grate or box in which the fuel used for heating purposes is burnt. In the open range the fire-grate is uncovered at the top, and forms a cavity, enclosed by the boiler and oven at the sides and back, by a grating of close bars at the bottom, and by parallel horizontal bars, about one inch square in section, placed from one and a half to two inches apart in front. The fire in the open range, generally speaking, can be made larger or smaller at pleasure by means of a movable check attached to a notched bar which is fixed at right angles to its surface on one side of it, and moved backwards and forwards by means of a small cog-wheel, to a greater or less distance from the fixed side of the grate, as may be found necessary. In the close range the fire-chamber is inexpansive, closed in front either wholly or partially by an iron door, and covered in at the top by an iron plate, movable, and generally in two parts, namely, a circular plate, dropping into and filling an opening in a square plate, the size of the top of the fire box. At the back there is a fire-brick moulded into shape. Close ranges are now chiefly used, but open ranges are to be met with in the country and in some towns in the North and in houses that have been built for some years, and in which the open range that was originally fixed in the kitchen, still remains.


text:
Author:Lionel Lindsay

Works

 * The Art of Arthur Streeton (1919)

Contributions to the Catholic Encyclopedia

 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
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 * , Canada
 * , Canada
 * , Canada

title: Author:Lionel Lindsay


text: A Chinese Biographical Dictionary/Wang Hsi-chih


text:
Talk:A Chinese Biographical Dictionary

Reigns
User:Csörföly_D/A_Chinese_Biographical_Dictionary

Northern Sung Dynasty Tai Tsu	(960 AD - 976 AD) Tai Tsung	(976 AD - 997 AD) Chen Tsung	(997 AD - 1022 AD) Jen Tsung	(1022 AD - 1063 AD) Ying Tsung	(1063 AD - 1067 AD) Shen Tsung (Seng Tsung)	(1067 AD - 1085 AD) Che Tsung	(1085 AD - 1100 AD) Hui Tsung	(1100 AD - 1126 AD) Chin Tsung	(1126 AD - 1127 AD)

Ching Dynasty Tai Tsu (Nurhachu)	(1616 AD - 1626 AD) Tai Tsung	(1626 AD - 1643 AD) Shih Tsu	(1643 AD - 1661 AD) Sheng Tsu	(1661 AD - 1722 AD) Shih Tsung	(1722 AD - 1735 AD) Kao Tsung	(1735 AD - 1796 AD) Jen Tsung	(1796 AD - 1820 AD) Hsuan Tsung	(1820 AD - 1850 AD) Wen Tsung	(1850 AD - 1861 AD) Mu Tsung	(1861 AD - 1875 AD) Te Tsung	(1875 AD - 1908 AD) Pu I (Yi)	(1908 AD - 1912 AD)

Wilkinson/ Chinese History: A New Manual: Giles "full of inaccuracies..."
Wilkinson/ Chinese History: A New Manual: Giles "full of inaccuracies and the selection leaves much to be desired. Between one third and and a half of the dates are wrong because Giles supposed that if somebody is recorded as having died in 1200 aged 63 he or she must have been born in 1137 (in most cases 1138 would have been a better guess")." (p.157).
 * The Google Books version apparently does not mention Giles. However even if it does the purpose of wikisource is to "faithfully reproduce" the original work regardless of inaccuracies. Solomon7968 (talk) 07:26, 23 November 2013 (UTC)
 * Thanks for asking. The quote from Wilkinson is from the "New Manual" of 2013, which is not (yet?) on Google. I have the 2013 version before me as I write, and the quote is indeed on p. 157. However, I agree with you that the function of Wikisource is simply to make resources available. It's up to editors to make careful use of them. CWH (talk) 21:27, 3 February 2014 (UTC)
 * That quote is also in the second edition, too, as I came across it. It's one reason I haven't worked on this lately--though it still would be nice if it would get finished someday. Rigadoun (talk) 02:48, 17 July 2014 (UTC)

title: Talk:A Chinese Biographical Dictionary


text:
Page:Shrinking the Commons.djvu/60

 that might affect the economic or competitive interests of market incumbents, accordingly, are unlikely at present. This places some of the more far-reaching copyright reform proposals that have been articulated—such as curtailing copyright holders’ power to control derivative works, drawing other bright-line boundaries that limit the scope of copyright holders’ rights as against members of the public, or resuscitating statutory formalities —off the table almost irrespective of their merits in supporting a sustainable commons. It is also probably too much to expect Congress to revisit the statutory termination regime itself, in view of the effects that amendments to this portion of the statute would have on both authors and publishers, although it seems quite debatable whether the termination regime has in fact accomplished its purpose.

More narrowly targeted statutory reform, however, may enjoy better prospects. The unintended threats that the statute’s termination provisions pose to open-content licensing schemes may be remedied without affecting the remainder of the statute. Statutory amendments to protect open-content projects from the risks of termination might take two forms. Congress might amend the statute’s termination provisions to exclude certain transfers and licenses from their scope, much as the statute presently excludes works made for hire and transfers by will. In the alternative, Congress might empower a government agency to promulgate exceptions to the statute’s termination regime, much as the Librarian of Congress presently enjoys the power to craft exceptions to the statutory anticircumvention provisions of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.

title: Page:Shrinking the Commons.djvu/60


text: A Chinese Biographical Dictionary/Yen Chên-ch'ing


text: A Chinese Biographical Dictionary/Ou-yang Hsün


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Raimund, Ferdinand


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Rain

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Rain


text:
Page:EB1911 - Volume 22.djvu/15

ELEVENTH EDITION

VOLUME XXII

POLL, strictly the head, in men or animals. Skeat connects the word with O. Swed. kolle (initial p and k being interchangeable) and considers a Celtic origin probable; cf. Irish coll, Welsh col, peak, summit. “Poll” is chiefly used in various senses derived from that of a unit in an enumeration of persons or things, e.g. (q.v.), or “challenge to the polls” in the case of a  (q.v.). The most familiar derivative uses are those connected with voting at parliamentary or other elections; thus “to poll” is to vote or to secure a number of votes, and “the poll,” the voting, the number of votes cast, or the time during which voting takes place. The verb “to poll” also means to clip or shear the top of anything, hence “polled” of hornless cattle, or “deed-poll” (i.e. a deed with smooth or uninvented edges, as distinguished from an “indenture”). A tree which has been "polled, " or cut back close in order to induce it to make short bushy growth, is called a “pollard.”

At the university of Cambridge, a “pass”, degree is known as a “poll-degree.” This is generally explained as from the Greek , the many, the common people.

 POLLACK (Gadus pollachius), a fish of the family Gadidae, abundant on rocky coasts of northern Europe, and extending as far south as the western parts of the Mediterranean, where, however, it is much scarcer and does not attain to the same size as in its real northern home. In Scotland and some parts of Ireland it is called lythe. It is distinguished from other species of the genus Gadus by its long pointed snout, which is twice as long as the eye, with projecting lower jaw, and without a barbel at the chin. The vent is below the anterior half of the first dorsal fin. A black spot above the base of the pectoral fin is another distinguishing mark. Although pollack are well-flavoured fish, and smaller individuals (from 12 to 16 in.) excellent eating, they do not form any considerable article of trade, and are not preserved, the majority being consumed by the captors. Specimens of 12 ℔ are common, but the species is said to attain occasionally as much as 24 ℔ in weight, (See also .)

 POLLAIUOLO, the popular name of the brothers Antonio and Piero di Jacobo Benci, Florentines who contributed much to Italian art in the 15th century. They were called Pollaiuolo because their father was a poulterer. The nickname was also extended to Simone, the nephew of Antonio.

(1429–1498) distinguished himself as a sculptor, jeweller, painter and engraver, and did valuable service in perfecting the art of enamelling. His painting exhibits an excess of brutality, of which the characteristics can be studied in the “Saint Sebastian,” painted in 1475, and now in the National Gallery, London. A “St Christopher and the Infant Christ” is in the Metropolitan Museum, New York. But it was as a sculptor and metal-worker that he achieved his greatest successes. The exact ascription of his works is doubtful, as his brother Piero did much in collaboration with him. The museum of Florence contains the bronze group “Hercules strangling Cacus” and the terra-cotta bust “The Young Warrior”; and in the South Kensington Museum, London, is a bas-relief representing a contest between naked men. In 1489 Antonio took up his residence in Rome, where he executed the tomb of Sixtus IV. (1493), a composition in which he again manifested the quality of exaggeration in the anatomical features of the figures. In 1496 he went to Florence in order to put the finishing touches to the work already begun in the sacristy of Santo Spirito. He died in 1498, having just finished his mausoleum of Innocent VIII., and was buried in the church of San Pietro in Vincula, where a monument was raised to him near that of his brother.

(1443–1496) was a painter, and his principal works were his “Coronation of the Virgin,” an altar-piece painted in 1483, in the choir of the cathedral at San Gimignano; his “Three Saints,” an altar-piece, and “Prudence” are both at the Uffizi Gallery.

(1457–1508), nephew of Antonio Pollaiuolo, a celebrated architect, was born in Florence and went to Rome in 1484; there he entered his uncle’s studio and studied architecture. On his return to Florence he was entrusted with the completion of the Strozzi palace begun by Benedetto de Maiano, and the cornice on the façade has earned him lasting fame. His highly coloured accounts of Rome earned for him the nickname of il Cronaca (chronicler). About 1498 he built the church of San Francesco at Monte and the vestibule of the sacristy of Santo Spirito. In collaboration with Guiliano da Sangallo he designed the great hall in the Palazzo Vecchio. He was a close friend and adherent of Savonarola.

See also Maud Cruttwell, Antonio Pollaiuolo (1907).

 POLLAN (Coregonus pollan), the name given to a species of the Salmonoid genus Coregonus (Whitefish) which has been found in the large and deep loughs of Ireland only. A full account of the fish by its first describer, W. Thompson, may be found in his Natural History of Ireland, iv. 168.

title: Page:EB1911 - Volume 22.djvu/15


text: Encyclopædia Britannica, Ninth Edition/Borough-English


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Socage

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Socage


text:
Page:Harry Hopkins to Franklin D. Roosevelt - NARA - 194876.jpg

 THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON October 15, 1941

MEMORANDUM FOR THE PRESIDENT:

Here is a draft of an answer to the cable on wheat that Churchill sent you the other day. It was prepared by Agriculture and has been approved by Milo Perkins.

I suggest that you send Secretary Hull the attached note. HARRY L. HOPKINS


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