text: Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 1.djvu/40

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


text: Author:Charles Foster Kent

title: Author:Charles Foster Kent


text: United States Statutes at Large/Volume 1/4th Congress/2nd Session/Chapter 19


text: Index:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/133

Rh houses they seemed to have business written all over them and the street, compared to Spruce and Walnut, appeared to my unsophisticated eyes so thronged that I did not have to be told it was no place for me. It was plain that most women felt as I did, so careful were they to efface themselves. I remember meeting but few on Chestnut Street below Eighth until Mr. Childs began to devote his leisure moments and loose change to the innocent amusement of presenting a cup and saucer to every woman who would come to get it, and as most women in Philadelphia, or out of it, are eager to grab anything they do not have to pay for, many visited him in the Ledger office at Sixth and Chestnut.

As I shrank from doing what no other woman did, and, as the business end of Chestnut Street did not offer me the same temptation as Walnut, I never got to know it well,—in fact I got to know it so little that my ignorance would seem extraordinary in anybody save a Philadelphian, and it remained as strange to me as the street of a foreign town. I could not have said just where my Grandfather's Bank was, not once during that period did I set my foot across the threshold of the State House, unwilling as I am to confess it. But perhaps I might as well make a full confession while I am about it, for the truth will have to come out sooner or later. Let me say then, disgraceful as I feel it to be, that though I spent two years at least in the Third Street house, with so much of the beauty of Philadelphia's beautiful past at my door, it was not until some time


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Charles Magill


text: Page:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu/1


text: Page:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu/2


text: Talk:A Personal Letter to the Kaiser

title: Talk:A Personal Letter to the Kaiser


text: Page:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu/3


text: Page:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu/4


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Michael (1686-1735)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Michael (1746-1767)


text:
Portal:Gospel of Matthew

Translations
Versions and translations of the Gospel of Matthew are listed at Matthew (Bible).

Related works

 * "The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew" in Ante-Nicene Fathers, an anonymous work translated by Alexander Walker
 * "Origen on Matthew" in Ante-Nicene Fathers, by Origen, translated by John Patrick

Reference

 * "Gospel according to Matthew" in Easton's Bible Dictionary, 1897

title: Portal:Gospel of Matthew


text:
Page:Our Philadelphia (Pennell, 1914).djvu/134

114, when we had gone to live up at Thirteenth and Spruce, that I began to appreciate the beauty as well as my folly in not having appreciated it sooner. St. Peter's Church and the Pennsylvania Hospital I could not ignore, many of my walks leading me past them. But I was several years older before I saw Christ Church, inside or out. The existence of the old Second Street Market was unknown to me; had I been asked I no doubt would have said that the Old Swedes Church was miles off; I was unconscious that I was surrounded by houses of Colonial date; I was blind to the meaning and dignity of great gables turned to the street, and stately Eighteenth Century doorways, and dormer windows, and old ironwork, and a patchwork of red and black brick; I was indifferent to the interest these things might have given to every step I took at a time when, too often, every step seemed forlornly barren of interest or its possibility. Into the old Philadelphia Library on Fifth Street I did penetrate once or twice, and once or twice sat in its quiet secluded alcoves dipping into musty volumes: a mere accident it must have been, my daily reading being provided for at the easygoing, friendly, pleasantly dingy, much more modern Mercantile Library in Tenth Street. But the memory of these visits, few as they were, is one of the strongest my Third Street days have left with me, and I think, or I hope, I must have felt the charm of the old town if I may not have realized that I did, for I can never look back


text: Page:Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society XVII.djvu/5


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Frowin


text:
Page:Amazing Stories Volume 01 Number 02.djvu/25

120 and his humbler companions seated themselves on some piles of lava and looked silently on. They clearly took my uncle for a lunatic and—waited the result.

Suddenly the Professor uttered a wild, unearthly cry. At first I imagined he had lost his footing, and was falling headlong into one of the yawning gulfs. Nothing of the kind. I saw him, his arms spread out to their widest extent, his legs stretched apart, standing upright before an enormous pedestal, high enough and black enough to bear a gigantic statue of Pluto. His attitude and mien were that of a man utterly stupefied. But his stupefaction was speedily changed to the wildest joy. "Harry! Harry! come here!" he cried; "make haste—wonderful—wonderful!"

Unable to understand what he meant, I turned to obey his commands. Neither Hans, nor the other Icelanders moved a step.

"Look!" said the Professor, in something of the manner of the French general, pointing out the pyramids to his army. And fully partaking his stupefaction, if not his joy, I read on the eastern side of the huge block of stone, the same characters, half eaten away by the corrosive action of time, the name, to me a thousand times accursed—

"Arne Saknussem!" cried my uncle, "now, unbeliever, do you begin to have faith?"

It was totally impossible for me to answer a single word. I went back to my pile of lava, in a state of silent awe. The evidence was unanswerable, overwhelming!

In a few moments, however, my thoughts were far away, back in my German home, with Gretchen and the old cook. What would I have given for one of my cousin's smiles, for one of the ancient domestic's omelettes, and for my own feather bed! How long I remained in this state I know not. All I can say is, that when at last I raised my head from between my hands, there remained at the bottom of the crater only myself, my uncle and Hans. The Icelandic porters had been dismissed and were now descending the exterior slopes of Mount Sneffels, on their way to Stapi. How heartily did I wish myself with them!

Hans slept tranquilly at the foot of a rock in a kind of rill of lava, where he had made himself a rough and ready bed. My uncle was walking about the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage. I had no desire, neither had I the strength, to move from my recumbent position. Taking example by the guide, I gave way to a kind of painful somnolency, during which I seemed both to hear and feel continual heavings and shudderings in the mountain. In this way we passed our first night in the interior of a crater.

Next morning, a gray, cloudy, heavy sky hung like a funeral-pall over the summit of the volcanic cone, I did not notice it so much from the obscurity that reigned around us, as from the rage with which my uncle was devoured.

I fully understood the reason, and again a glimpse of hope made my heart leap with joy. I will briefly explain the cause. Of the three openings which yawned beneath our steps, only one could have been followed by the adventurous Saknussem. According to the words of the learned Icelander, it was only to be known by that one particular mentioned in the cryptograph, that the shadow of Scartaris fell upon it, just touching its mouth in the last days of the month of June. We were, in fact, to consider the point peak as the stylus of an immense sun-dial, the shadow of which pointed on one given day, like the inexorable finger of fate, to the yawning chasm which led into the interior of the earth.

Now, as often happen in these regions, should the sun fail to burst through the clouds, there can be no shadow. Consequently, no chance of discovering the right aperture. We had already reached the 25th of June. If the kindly heavens would only remain densely clouded for six more days, we should have to put off our voyage of discovery for another year, when there would certainly be one person fewer in the party. I had already had sufficient of the mad and monstrous enterprise.

It would be utterly impossible to depict the impotent rage of Professor Hardwigg. The day passed, and not the faintest outline of a shadow could be seen at the bottom of the crater. Hans, the guide, never moved from his place. He must have been curious to know what we were about, if indeed he could believe we were about anything. As for my uncle, he never addressed a word to me. He was nursing his wrath to keep it warm! His eyes were fixed on the black and foggy atmosphere, his complexion hideous with suppressed passion. Never had his eyes appeared so fierce, his nose so aquiline, his mouth so hard and firm.

On the 26th, no change for the better. A mixture of rain and snow fell during the whole day. Hans very quietly built himself a hut of lava into which he retired like Diogenes into his tub. I took a malicious delight in watching the thousand little cascades that flowed down the side of the cone, carrying with them at times a stream of stones into the "vasty deep" below.

My uncle was almost frantic: to be sure it was enough to make even a patient man angry. He had reached to a certain extent the goal of his desires, and yet he was likely to be wrecked in port.

But if the heavens and the elements are capable of causing us much pain and sorrow, there are two sides to a medal. And there was reserved for Professor Hardwigg a brilliant and sudden surprise which was to compensate him for all his sufferings. Next day the sky was still overcast, but on Sunday, the 29th, the last day but one of the month, with a sudden change of wind and a new moon there came a change of weather. The sun poured its beaming rays to the very bottom of the crater.

Each hillock, every rock, every stone, every asperity of the soil had its share of the luminous effulgence, and its shadow fell heavily on the soil. Among others, to his insane delight, the shadow of Scartaris was marked and clear, and moved slowly with the radiant star of day.

My uncle moved with it in a state of mental ecstasy. At twelve o'clock exactly, when the sun had attained its highest altitude for the day, the shadow fell upon the edge of the central pit!

"Here it is," gasped the Professor in an agony of joy, "here it is—we have found it. Forward, my friends, into the Interior of the Earth."

I looked curiously at Hans to see what reply he


text: Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 05.pdf/317


text:
Talk:Sanditon And Other Miscellanea/Sanditon

 * Sanditon, King’s College, Cambridge, Head Note

 * The Manuscript : text and facsimile, 120 pages, 3 notebooks, 12 chapters

 * Sanditon ; The Watsons ; Lady Susan ; and other miscellanea ; with an introduction by R. Brimley Johnson; [illustrated by Maximilien Vox.] HathiTrust, New York : Dutton, 1934.
 * R. Brimley Johnson (1867-1932)
 * Maximilien Vox (1894-1974)
 * copyright : Copyright Renewal Database No object found


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (d.1094?)


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/32

Rh which young ladies bring home with them from school, forms but a very small part of that which they will be expected to possess. Indeed, such is the illimitable nature of knowledge, that persons can only be said to know much or little by comparison. It is by comparing ourselves with others, and especially with those who are more advanced in life, that we first learn the important secret of our own deficiencies. And it is good to keep the mind open to this truth, for without having clearly ascertained our own inferiority, we should always be liable to make the most egregious mistakes, not only by telling those around us what they already know, and wearying our acquaintance with the most tedious common-place; but by the worst kind of false assumption—by placing ourselves in exalted positions, and thereby rendering our ignorance more conspicuous.

All this, however, though a fruitful source of folly and ridicule, is of trifling importance compared with the absolute want—the mental poverty—the moral destitution, necessarily occasioned by an absence of true knowledge; we must begin, therefore, by opening our minds to the truth, not by adopting the opinions of this or that set of persons, but by reading the works of the best authors, by keeping the mind unbiassed by the writings or the conversation of persons infected with prejudice, and by endeavouring to view every object in its full extent, its breadth, its reality, and its importance.

It is the grand defect in woman's intellectual condition, that she seldom makes any equivalent effort to do this. She is not only too often occupied with the mere frivolities of life, to estimate the true value of general knowledge; but, she is also too apt to hang her credulity upon her affections, and to take anything for granted which is believed by those whom she loves. It is true, this servility of

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/32


text:
User:Sandralock85

The most sacred of our laws – the Constitution- contains a number of articles that guarantee the rights of minorities to lead a life of dignity and equality. However, to enable us to assess the actual impact of the comprehensive legislation for an egalitarian society conceived by our founding fathers, I wish to flag certain news items that have appeared in the national press in the last two months – cases and incidents that we have read without even raising an eyebrow because they are so commonplace.

title: User:Sandralock85


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/33

22 mind may appear to some like acting out the law of love, which I am so anxious to advocate; but how is it, if their dearest friends are in error, and if they err in such a way as to endanger their temporal and eternal interests? Is it not a higher and nobler effort of love, to see and rectify such error, than to endeavour to imbibe the same, for the sake of being companions in folly, or in sin?

One of the greatest faults in the system of education pursued in the present day, is that of considering youth as the season for reading short and easy books. Although the ablest of female writers—I had almost said the wisest of women—has left on record her testimony against this practice, it continues to be the fashion, to place in the hands of young persons, all kinds of abstracts, summaries, and short means of arriving at facts; as if the only use of knowledge was to be able to repeat by rote a list of the dates of public events.

Now, if ever an entire history or a complete work is worth reading, it must be at an early period of life, when attention and leisure are both at our command. By the early and studious reading of books of this description, those important events which it is of so much consequence to impress upon the mind, become interwoven in the memory, with the spirit and style of the author; so that instead of the youthful reader becoming possessed of nothing more than a mere table of facts, she is in reality associating herself with a being of the highest order of mind, seeing with the eyes of the author, breathing his atmosphere, thinking his thoughts, and imbibing, through a thousand indirect channels, the very essence of his genius.

This is the only kind of reading which is really worthy of the name. Abstracts and compendiums may very properly be glanced over in after life, for the sake of refreshing the memory as to dates and facts; but unless the works of

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/33


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/34

Rh the best authors have been read in this manner in early life, there will always be something vapid in our conversation, contracted in our views, prejudiced in our mode of judging, and vulgar in our habits of thinking and speaking of things in general. In vain may we attempt to hide this great deficiency. Art may in some measure conceal what is wanting; but it cannot bring to light what does not exist. Prudence may seal the lips, and female tact may point out when to speak with safety, and when to withhold a remark; but all those enlightened views, all that bold launching forth into the region of intellect, all the companionship of gifted minds, which intelligent women, even in their inferior capacity, may at least delight in, will be wanting to the happiness of her who chooses to waste the precious hours of her youth in idleness or frivolity.

Nor is it easy for after study to make up the deficiency of what ought to have been acquired in youth. Bare information dragged in to supply the want of the moment, without arrangement, and without previous thought, too often resembles in its crudeness and inappropriate display, a provision of raw fruits, and undressed food, instead of the luxuries of an elegant and well-furnished board.

I have heard it pleaded by young women, that they did 'not care for knowledge'—'did not wish to be clever.' And if such persons would be satisfied to fill the lowest place in society, to creep through the world alone, or to have silly husbands, and idiot sons, we should say that their ambition was equal to their destiny. But when we see the same persons jealous of their rights as intellectual beings, aspiring to be the companions of rational men, and, above all, the early instructors of immortal beings, we blush to contemplate such lamentable destitution of right feeling, and can only forgive their presumption in consideration to their ignorance and folly.

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/34


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Joseph


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (1078?-1141)


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/35

24 I cannot believe of any of the young persons who may read these pages, that they could be guilty of such an act of ingratitude to the great Author of their being, and the Giver of every good and perfect gift they possess, as deliberately to choose to consign to oblivion and neglect the intellectual part of their nature, which may justly be regarded as the highest of these gifts. I would rather suppose them already acquainted with the fact, that those passions, and emotions, to the exercise of which they believe themselves especially called, are many of them such as are common to the inferior orders of animals, while the possession of an understanding capable of unlimited extension, is an attribute of the Divine nature, and one which raises them to a level with the angels.

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/35


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (fl.1138-1189?)


text: The Daughters of England/Chapter II

title: The Daughters of England/Chapter II


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (d. before 1191)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (d.1245)


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/36

all our pursuits, but especially in the acquisition of knowledge, it is highly important to habituate ourselves to minute calculations upon the value and progress of time. That writer who could teach us how to estimate this treasure, and how to realize its fleetness, would confer a lasting benefit upon his fellow-creatures. We all know how to talk of time flying fast. It is, in short, the subject of our most familiar proverbs, the burden of the minstrel's song, the theme of the preacher's discourse, the impress we affix to our lightest pleasures, the inscription that remains upon our tombs. Yet how little do we actually realize of the silent and ceaseless progress of time? It is true, that one of the first exclamations which infant lips are taught to utter is the word 'gone;' and the beautiful expression, 'gone for ever,' occurs with frequency in our poetical phraseology. Clean gone for ever, is the still more expressive language of Scripture; and if any combination of words could be made to convey to us clear and striking impressions of this idea, it would be found amongst those of the inspired writers. Yet still we go on from day to day, insensible, and unimpressed by this, the most sublime and appalling reality of our existence.

The fact that no single moment of our lives, whether happy or miserable, whether wasted or well employed, can ever be recalled, is of itself one of the most momentous truths with which we are acquainted—that each hour of our past existence, whether marked by wisdom or by

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/36


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (1210-1295)


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/37

26 folly, is gone for ever; and that neither ingenuity, nor effort, nor purchase, nor prayer, can call it back. Nay, so far is it removed from the range of possibility, that we should live again for any portion of our past lives, that it was not even amongst the miracles wrought by the Saviour while on earth. Other apparent impossibilities he did accomplish before the eyes of wondering multitudes, breaking the bonds of nature, and even raising the dead to life; yet, we find not amongst these mighty works, that he said to any single day in man's experience, 'Thou shalt dawn again.' No. Even the familiar face of yesterday is turned away from us for ever; and though so closely followed by the remembrance of the past night, as well might we attempt to grasp the stars, as to turn back and enjoy its sweet repose again.

What then is the consequence? Since time, this great ocean of wealth, is ebbing away from us day by day, and hour by hour; since it must inevitably diminish, and since we know the lowest rate at which it must go, though none can tell how soon it may to them be gone for ever, is it not our first duty to make the best possible use of what remains, and to begin in earnest, before another day shall escape from our hold?

We will suppose the case of a man who finds himself the possessor of a vast estate, with the power to cultivate it as he will, and to derive any amount of revenue from it which his ingenuity or labour may obtain for him; yet, with this condition—that an enemy shall be entitled to take away a certain portion of it every day, until the whole is gone. The enemy might, under certain circumstances, with which the owner could not be acquainted, enjoy the liberty of taking the whole at once; but a certain part he must take every day. Now, would not the man who held this property on such a tenure, look sharply to his own

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/37


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (1253-1304)


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/38

Rh, and endeavour to discover by what means he could turn his estate to the best account, before its extent should be so far diminished as to cripple his means? Reflecting, too, that each day it was becoming less, and that the smaller its extent, the smaller would be the returns he might expect, would he not begin without the loss of a single day, so to improve his land, to till, to sow, and to prepare for getting in his produce, as that he might derive a lasting revenue of profit from the largest portion, before it should have passed out of his own hands?

A very common understanding, and a very trifling amount of knowledge, would prompt the possessor of such an estate to do this; yet, with regard to time, that most valuable of earthly possessions, how few of us act upon this principle! With some, the extent of this estate is narrowing to a very small circle; but with the class of human beings whom I am addressing, there is, in all human probability, a wider field for them to speculate upon. Illness, it is true, may come and snatch away a large portion, and death may be waiting to grasp the whole: how much more important is it then, to begin to cultivate and reap in time!

Perhaps it is the apparent extent of our prospect in early life, which deludes us into the belief that the enemy is actually not taking anything away. Still there are daily and hourly evidences of the lapse of time, which would serve to remind us of the impossibility of calling it back, if we would but regard them in this light. If, for instance, we have committed an egregious folly, if we have acted unjustly, thrown blame upon the innocent, or spoken unkindly to a dear friend—though it was but yesterday, last night, or this morning—not all our tears, though we might weep oceans, could wash away that single act or word;

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/38


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/39

28 because the moment which bore that stain upon it, would be gone—and gone for ever.

Again, we scarcely become acquainted with life in any of its serious aspects, before death is presented to our notice. And where are they—"the loved, the lost?" Their days have been numbered—all those long days of companionship in which their friends might have loved, and served them better, are gone for ever. 'And why,' we ask, when the blow falls nearest to ourselves—when the delight of our eyes is taken away as with a stroke— 'why do not the sun, and the moon, and the stars, delay their course?—why do the flowers not cease to bloom?—the light and cheerful morning not fail to return? above all, why do those around us continue their accustomed avocations? and why do we join them at last, as if nothing had occurred?' It is because time passes on, and on, and neither life nor death, nor joy, nor sorrow, nor any of the changes in our weal or wo, present the minutest hinderance to his certain progress, or retard for a single moment his triumphant and irresistible career.

Nor is it simply as a whole, that we have to take into account the momentous subject of time. Every year, and month, and day, have their separate amount of responsibility; but especially the season of youth, because the habits we acquire during that period, have an influence upon the whole of our after lives.

The habit of making correct calculations upon how much can be done in any stated portion of time, is the first thing to begin with, for without this, we are very apt to go on with anything that may happen to interest us, to the culpable neglect of more important duties. Thus, though it may be well for a man to pluck the weeds up in his garden for half an hour after breakfast; yet, if his actual business lies in the counting-house, or the exchange, it would

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/39


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/40

Rh be worse than folly for him to remain plucking weeds up for half the day.

In order to make the best use of time, we must lay out beforehand the exact amount proportioned to every occupation in which we expect to engage. Casualties will perpetually occur demanding an additional allowance, and something must consequently be given up in exchange; but still our calculations may generally be made with a degree of certainty, which leaves no excuse for our being habitually at a loss what to do.

There is a class of young persons, and I fear not a very small one, who rise every morning trusting to the day to provide its own occupations and amusements. They descend from their chambers with a listless, dreamy hope that something will occur to interest, or enliven them, never imagining that they themselves are called upon to enliven and interest others. Such individuals being liable to disappointment every day, almost always learn to look upon themselves as unfortunate beings, less privileged than others, and, in short, ill-treated by faith, or rather by Providence, in being placed where they are.

It is this waiting to be interested, or amused, by anything that may chance to happen, which constitutes the great bane of a young woman's life, and while dreaming on in this most unprofitable state, without any definite object of pursuit, their minds become the prey of a host of enemies, whose attacks might have been warded off by a little wholesome and determined occupation. Their feelings, always too busy for their peace, become morbid, restless, and ungovernable, for want of proper exercise; while imagination, allowed to run riot over a boundless field of vague and half-formed observations, leads their affections in her train, to fix upon whatever object caprice or fancy may select.

It is not attributing too much importance to the right

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/40


text:
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30 economy of time, to say that it might prevent all this. I presume not to lay down rules for the occupation of every hour. Particular duties must always appertain to particular situations; and since the necessary claims upon our attention are as varied as our individual circumstances, that which in one would be a right employment of time, would be a culpable breach of duty in another.

There are, however, a few general rules which cannot be too clearly or too deeply impressed upon the mind—rules which the rich and the poor would be equally benefitted by adopting; which the meanest and the most exalted individual would alike find it safe to act upon; and by which the wisest and best of mankind might increase their means and extend their sphere of usefulness to their fellow-creatures.

The first of these rules is to accustom yourselves every morning to say what you are intending to do; and every night, with equal faithfulness, to say what you have actually done during the day. If you find any material difference between what you have intended, and what you have achieved, try to proportion them better, and the next day, either lay out for yourself, or, what is far better, endeavour to accomplish more. This is the more to be recommended, because we learn, both by experience and observation, that whenever we bring down our good intentions to a lower scale, it is a certain symptom of some failure either in our moral, intellectual, or physical power. Still there is much allowance to be made for the inexperience of youth, in not being able to limit good intentions by the bounds of what is practicable; it is therefore preferable that a little should be taken off, even from what is good in itself, rather than that you should go on miscalculating time, and means, to the end of life.

There are persons, and some considerably advanced in

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/41


text:
Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/42

Rh years, who habitually retire to rest every night, surprised and disappointed that the whole of their day's work has not been done. Now, it is evident that such persons must be essentially wrong in one of these two things—either in their calculations upon the value and extent of time, or in their estimate of their own capabilities; and in consequence of these miscalculations, they have probably been making the most serious mistakes all their lives. They have been promising what they could not perform; deceiving and disappointing their friends, and those who were dependent upon them; besides harassing their own spirits, and destroying their own peace, by frightful miscalculations of imperative claims, when there was no residue of time at all proportioned to such requirements.

The next rule I would lay down is, if possible, of more importance than the first. It is, that you should always be able to say what you are doing, and not merely what you are going to do. "I am going to be so busy—I am going to get to my work—I am going to prepare for my journey—I am going to learn Latin—I am going to visit a poor neighbour." These, and ten thousand other 'goings,' with the frequent addition of the word 'just' before them, are words which form a network of delusion, by which hundreds of really well-intentioned young persons are completely entangled. 'I am just going to do this or that good work,' sounds so much like 'I am really doing it,' that the conscience is satisfied for the moment; yet how vast is the difference between these two expressions when habit has fixed them upon the character!

To the same class of persons who habitually say, 'I am going,' rather than 'I am doing,' belong those who seldom know what they really are about; who, coming into a room for a particular purpose, and finding a book there by chance, open it, and sit down to read for half an hour, or an hour,

title: Page:The Daughters of England.djvu/42


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (1554-1631)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Robert (d.1685)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Thomas (1655?-1741)


text: Talk:The Daughters of England

title: Talk:The Daughters of England


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, Thomas (1766-1841)


text: The Seven Seas/The Story of Ung

title: The Seven Seas/The Story of Ung


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, William (d.1710)


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Joseph Speed


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, William (1702-1755)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, William (1757-1841)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bruce, William (1790-1868)


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


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


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


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Brunel, Isambard Kingdom


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Brunel, Marc Isambard


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


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Brunning, Benjamin


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


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


text: Index:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Robert Taylor


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


text:
Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/342

iv. 14- together with all his limbs, all-formed. Do thou rise up from here unto the highest firmament (nā́ka); with thy four feet stand firm in the quarters.

1. Let the directions, full of mist (nábhasvant), fly up together; let clouds, wind-hurried, come together; let the lowing [cows] of the resounding misty great bull, the waters, gratify the earth.

2. Let the mighty (taviṣá), liberal (sudā́nu) ones cause to behold together; let the juices (rása) of the waters attach themselves (sac) to the herbs; let gushes (sárga) of rain gladden (mahay-) the earth; let herbs of all forms be born here and there (pṛ́thak).

3. Do thou make the singers (gā́yant) to behold together the mists;

title: Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/342


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Brwynllys, Bedo


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bryan, Augustine


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


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bryan, John (d.1545)


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/119

ROM the black woods beside the trail rose a shriek of blood-curdling laughter. Slavering, mouthing sounds followed it, so strange and garbled that at first I did not recognize them as human words. Their unhuman intonations sent a chill down my spine.

"Dead men!" the inhuman voice chanted. "Dead men with torn throats! There will be dead men among the pines before dawn! Dead men! Fools, you are all dead!"

Ashley and I both fired in the direction of the voice, and in the crashing reverberations of our shots the ghastly chant was drowned. But the weird laugh rang out again, deeper in the woods, and then silence closed down like a black fog, in which I heard the semi-hysterical gasping of the girl. She had released Ashley and was clinging frantically to me. I could feel the quivering of her lithe body against mine. Probably she had merely followed her feminine instinct to seek refuge with the strongest; the light of the match had shown her that I was a bigger man than Ashley.

"Hurry, for God's sake!" Ashley's voice sounded strangled. "It can't be far to the cabin. Hurry! You'll come with us, Mr. Garfield?"

"What was it?" the girl was panting. "Oh, what was it?"

"A madman, I think," I answered, tucking her trembling little hand under my left arm. But at the back of my head was whispering the grisly realization that no madman ever had a voice like that. It sounded—God!—it sounded like some bestial creature speaking with human words, but not with a human tongue!...

You will not want to miss this grim novelette of stark horror—of the terrible disfigurement inflicted upon Adam Grimm by the dark priests of Inner Mongolia, and the frightful vengeance that pursued his enemy to the United States and tracked him down in the Louisiana woods. It will be published complete in the November issue of :

———Also———


text: The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series/Heap cassia, sandal-buds, and stripes


text:
Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/343

173 let rushes (véga) of waters rush (vij) up here and there; let gushes of rain gladden the earth; let plants of all forms be born here and there.

4. Let the troops of Maruts sing unto thee, O Parjanya, noisy here and there; let gushes of raining rain rain along the earth.

5. Send up, O Maruts, from the ocean; brilliant [is] the song; ye make the mist fly up; let the lowing [cows] of the resounding misty great bull, the waters, gratify the earth.

6. Roar on, thunder, excite (ard) the water-holder; anoint the earth, O Parjanya, with milk; by thee poured out, let abundant rain come; let him of lean kine, seeking refuge, go home.

7. Let the liberal ones favor (sam-av) you, also the fountains, great serpents (ajagará); let the clouds, started forward by the Maruts, rain along the earth.

Ppp. omits vas in a, and combines sudānavo ’tsā ’jagarā; and its second half-verse

title: Page:Atharva-Veda samhita.djvu/343


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/141

Rh 'n done preachin' en wuz lookin' roun' to git my Bible en my hat, 'fo' up popped dat big Charity Green, who been settin' 'longside o' Phillis en tekin' ev'y las' thing I said to herse'f. En she tuk hole o' my han' en squeeze it, en say she felt mos' like shoutin'. En 'fo' I knowed it, I jes see Phillis wrap 'er shawl roun' 'er head en tu'n 'er nose up at me right quick en flip out de dooh. De dogs howl mighty mou'nful when I walk home by myse'f dat night," added Peter, laughing to himself, "en I ain' preach dat sermon no mo' tell atter me en Phillis wuz married.

"Hit wuz long time," he continued, "'fo' Phillis come to heah me preach any mo'. But 'long 'bout de nex' fall we had big meetin', en heap mo' um j'ined. But Phillis, she ain't nuver j'ined yit. I preached mighty nigh all roun' my coat-tails till I say to myse'f, D' ain't but one tex' lef', en I jes got to fetch 'er wid dat! De tex' wuz on de right tail o' my coat: 'Come unto me, all ye dat labor en is heavy laden.' Hit wuz a ve'y momentous sermon, en all 'long I jes see Phillis wras'lin wid 'erse'f, en I say, 'She got to come dis night, de Lohd he'pin' me.' En I had n' mo' 'n said de word, 'fo' she jes walked down en guv me 'er han'.

"Den we had de baptizin' in Elkhorn Creek, en de watter wuz deep en de curren' tol'ble swif'. Hit look to me like dere wuz five hundred uv um on de creek side. By-en-by I stood on de edge o' de watter, en Phillis she come down to let me baptize 'er. En me en 'er j'ined han's en waded out in the creek, mighty slow, caze Phillis didn' have no shot roun' de bottom uv 'er dress, en it kep' bobbin' on top de watter till I pushed it down. But by-en-by we got way out in de creek, en bof uv us wuz tremblin'. En I says to 'er ve'y kin'ly, 'When I


text:
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124 put you un'er de watter, Phillis, you mus' try en hole yo'se'f stiff, so I can lif' you up easy.' But I hadn't mo' 'n jes got 'er laid back over de watter ready to souze 'er un'er when 'er feet flew up off de bottom uv de creek, en when I retched out to fetch 'er up, I stepped in a hole; en 'fo' I knowed it, we wuz flounderin' roun' in de watter, en de hymn dey was singin' on de bank sounded mighty confused-like. En Phillis she swallowed some watter, en all 't oncet she jes grap me right tight roun' de neck, en say mighty quick, says she, 'I gwine marry whoever gits me out'n dis yere watter!'

"En by-en-by, when me en 'er wuz walkin up de bank o' de creek, drippin' all over, I says to 'er, says I:

"'Does you 'member what you said back yon'er in de watter, Phillis?

"'I ain' out'n no watter yit,' says she, ve'y contemptuous.

"'When does you consider yo'se'f out'n de watter?' says I, ve'y humble.

"'When I git dese soakin' clo'es off'n my back,' says she.

"Hit wuz good dark when we got home, en atter a while I crope up to de dooh o' Phillis's cabin en put my eye down to de key-hole, en see Phillis jes settin' 'fo' dem blazin' walnut logs dressed up in 'er new red linsey dress, en 'er eyes shinin'. En I shuk so I 'mos' faint. Den I tap easy on de dooh, en say in a mighty tremblin' tone, says I:

"'Is you out'n de watter yit, Phillis?'

"'I got on dry dress,' says she.

"'Does you member what you said back yon'er in de watter, Phillis?' says I.


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/143

Rh "'De latch-string on de outside de dooh,' says she, mighty sof'.

"En I walked in."

As Peter drew near the end of this reminiscence, his voice sank to a key of inimitable tenderness; and when it was ended he stood a few minutes, scraping the gravel with the toe of his boot, his head dropped forward. Then he added, huskily:

"Phillis been dead heap o' years now;" and turned away.

This recalling of the scenes of a time long gone by may have awakened in the breast of the colonel some gentle memory; for after Peter was gone he continued to sit a while in silent musing. Then getting up, he walked in the falling twilight across the yard and through the gardens until he came to a secluded spot in the most distant corner. There he stooped or rather knelt down and passed his hands, as though with mute benediction, over a little bed of old-fashioned China pinks. When he had moved in from the country he had brought nothing away from his mother's garden but these, and in all the years since no one had ever pulled them, as Peter well knew; for one day the colonel had said, with his face turned away:

"Let them have all the flowers they want; but leave the pinks."

He continued kneeling over them now, touching them softly with his fingers, as though they were the fragrant, never-changing symbols of voiceless communion with his past. Still it may have been only the early dew of the evening that glistened on them when he rose and slowly walked away, leaving the pale moonbeams to haunt the spot.


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/144

126 Certainly after this day he showed increasing concern in the young lovers who were holding clandestine meetings in his grounds.

"Peter," he would say, "why, if they love each other, don't they get married? Something may happen."

"I been spectin' some'n' to happ'n fur some time, ez dey been quar'lin' right smart lately," replied Peter, laughing.

Whether or not he was justified in this prediction, before the end of another week the colonel read a notice of their elopement and marriage; and several days later he came up from down-town and told Peter that everything had been forgiven the young pair, who had gone to house-keeping in the country. It gave him pleasure to think he had helped to perpetuate the race of blue-grass farmers.

It was in the twilight of a late autumn day in the same year that nature gave the colonel the first direct intimation to prepare for the last summons. They had been passing along the garden walks, where a few pale flowers were trying to flourish up to the very winter's edge, and where the dry leaves had gathered unswept and rustled beneath their feet. All at once the colonel turned to Peter, who was a yard and a half behind, as usual, and said:

"Give me your arm, Peter, I feel tired;" and thus the two, for the first time in all their lifetime walking abreast, passed slowly on.

"Peter," said the colonel, gravely, a minute or two


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/145

Rh later, "we are like two dried-up stalks of fodder, I wonder the Lord lets us live any longer."

"I reck'n He's managin' to use us some way, or we wouldn' be heah," said Peter.

"Well, all I have to say is, that if He's using me, He can't be in much of a hurry for his work," replied the colonel.

"He uses snails, en I know we ain' ez slow ez dem" argued Peter, composedly.

"I don't know. I think a snail must have made more progress since the war than I have."

The idea of his uselessness seemed to weigh on him, for a little later he remarked, with a sort of mortified smile:

"Do you think, Peter, that we would pass for what they call representative men of the New South?"

"We done had ou' day, Marse Rom," replied Peter. "We got to pass fur what we wuz. Mebbe de Lohd's got mo' use fur us yit 'n people has," he added, after a pause.

From this time on the colonel's strength gradually failed him; but it was not until the following spring that the end came.

A night or two before his death his mind wandered backward, after the familiar manner of the dying, and his delirious dreams showed the shifting, faded pictures that renewed themselves for the last time on his wasting memory. It must have been that he was once more amid the scenes of his active farm life, for his broken snatches of talk ran thus:

"Come, boys, get your cradles! Look where the sun, is! You are late getting to work this morning. That is the finest field of wheat in the county. Be careful


text:
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128 about the bundles! Make them the same size and tie them tight. That swath is too wide, and you don't hold your cradle right, Tom. . ..

"Sell Peter! Sell Peter Cotton! No, sir! You might buy me some day and work me in your cotton-field; but as long as he's mine, you can't buy Peter, and you can't buy any of my negroes. . ..

"Boys! boys! If you don't work faster, you won't finish this field to-day. . . . You'd better go in the shade and rest now. The sun's very hot. Don't drink too much ice-water. There's a jug of whisky in the fence-corner. Give them a good dram around, and tell them to work slow till the sun gets lower.". ..

Once during the night a sweet smile played over his features as he repeated a few words that were part of an old rustic song and dance. Arranged, not as they came broken and incoherent from his lips, but as he once had sung them, they were as follows:

After this he sank into a quieter sleep, but soon stirred with a look of intense pain.

"Helen! Helen!" he murmured. "Will you break your promise? Have you changed in your feelings towards me? I have brought you the pinks. Won't you take the pinks, Helen?"

Then he sighed as he added, "It wasn't her fault. If she had only known–"


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/147

Rh Who was the Helen of that far-away time? Was this the colonel's love-story?

But during all the night, whithersoever his mind wandered, at intervals it returned to the burden of a single strain—the harvesting. Towards daybreak he took it up again for the last time:

"O boys, boys, boys! If you don't work faster you won't finish the field to-day. Look how low the sun is! ... I am going to the house. They can't finish the field to-day. Let them do what they can, but don't let them work late. I want Peter to go to the house with me. Tell him to come on.". ..

In the faint gray of the morning, Peter, who had been watching by the bedside all night, stole out of the room, and going into the garden pulled a handful of pinks–a thing he had never done before—and, re-entering the colonel's bedroom, put them in a vase near his sleeping face. Soon afterwards the colonel opened his eyes and looked around him. At the foot of the bed stood Peter, and on one side sat the physician and a friend. The night-lamp burned low, and through the folds of the curtains came the white light of early day.

"Put out the lamp and open the curtains," he said, feebly. "It's day." When they had drawn the curtains aside, his eyes fell on the pinks, sweet and fresh with the clew on them. He stretched out his hand and touched them caressingly, and his eyes sought Peter's with a look of grateful understanding.

"I want to be alone with Peter for a while," he said, turning his face towards the others.

When they were left alone, it was some minutes before anything was said. Peter, not knowing what he did, but knowing what was coming, had gone to the


text:
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130 and hid himself behind the curtains, drawing them tightly around his form as though to shroud himself from sorrow.

At length the colonel said, "Come here!"

Peter, almost staggering forward, fell at the foot of the bed, and, clasping the colonel's feet with one arm, pressed his cheek against them.

"Come closer!"

Peter crept on his knees and buried his head on the colonel's thigh.

"Come up here—closer; and putting one arm around Peter's neck he laid the other hand softly on his head, and looked long and tenderly into his eyes. "I've got to leave you, Peter. Don't you feel sorry for me?;

"Oh, Marse Rom!" cried Peter, hiding his face, his whole form shaken by sobs.

"Peter," added, the colonel with ineffable gentleness, "if I had served my Master as faithfully as you have served yours, I should not feel ashamed to stand in his presence."

"If my Marseter is ez mussiful to me ez you have been—"

I have fixed things so that you will be comfortable after I am gone. When your time comes, I should like you to be laid close to me. We can take the long sleep together. Are you willing?"

"That's whar I want to be laid."

The colonel stretched out his hand to the vase, and taking the bunch of pinks, said very calmly:

"Leave these in my hand; I'll carry them with me." A moment more, and he added:

"If I shouldn't wake up any more, good-bye, Peter!"

"Good-bye, Marse Rom!"


text:
Page:Flute and Violin and Other Kentucky Tales and Romances.djvu/149

Rh And they shook hands a long time. After this the colonel lay back on the pillows. His soft, silvery hair contrasted strongly with his child-like, unspoiled, open face. To the day of his death, as is apt to be true of those who have lived pure lives but never married, he had a boyish strain in him—a softness of nature, showing itself even now in the gentle expression of his mouth. His brown eyes had in them the same boyish look when, just as he was falling asleep, he scarcely opened them to say.

"Pray, Peter."

Peter, on his knees, and looking across the colonel's face towards the open door, through which the rays of the rising sun streamed in upon his hoary head, prayed, while the colonel fell asleep, adding a few words for himself now left alone.

Several hours later, memory led the colonel back again through the dim gate-way of the past, and out of that gate-way his spirit finally took flight into the future.

Peter lingered a year. The place went to the colonel's sister, but he was allowed to remain in his quarters. With much thinking of the past, his mind fell into a lightness and a weakness. Sometimes he would be heard crooning the burden of old hymns, or sometimes seen sitting beside the old brass-nailed trunk, fumbling with the spelling-book and The Pilgrim's Progress. Often, too, he walked out to the cemetery on the edge of the town, and each time could hardly find the colonel's grave amid the multitude of the dead.

One gusty day in spring, the Scotch sexton, busy with the blades of blue-grass springing from the animated mould, saw his familiar figure standing motionless beside the colonel's resting-place. He had taken off his hat


text:
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132 –one of the colonel's last bequests—and laid it on the colonel's head-stone. On his body he wore a strange coat of faded blue, patched and weather-stained, and so moth-eaten that parts of the curious tails had dropped entirely away. In one hand he held an open Bible, and on a much-soiled page he was pointing with his finger to the following words:

"I would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep."

It would seem that, impelled by love and faith, and guided by his wandering reason, he had come forth to preach his last sermon on the immortality of the soul over the dust of his dead master.

The sexton led him home, and soon afterwards a friend, who had loved them both, laid him beside the colonel.

It was perhaps fitting that his winding-sheet should be the vestment in which, years agone, he had preached to his fellow-slaves in bondage; for if it so be that the dead of this planet shall come forth from their graves clad in the trappings of mortality, then Peter should arise on the Resurrection Day wearing his old jeans coat.


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/3

Published monthly by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2457 East Washington Street, Indianapolis, Ind. Entered as second-class matter March 20, 1923, at the post office at Indianapolis, Ind., under the act of March 3, 1879. Single copies, 25 cents. Subscription rates: One year in the United States and possessions, Cuba, Mexico, South America. Spain, $2.50; Canada, $2.75; elsewhere, $3.00. English office: Otis A. Kline, c/o John Paradise, 86 Strand, W. C. 2, London. The publishers are not responsible for the loss of unsolicited manuscripts, although every care will be taken of such material while in their possession. The contents of this magazine are fully protected by copyright and must not be reproduced either wholly or in part without permission from the publishers. NOTE—All manuscripts and communications should be addressed to the publishers' Chicago office at 840 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Ill. FARNSWORTH WRIGHT, Editor.

256


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, Timothy Abbott


text:
Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/80

 Something they would have said; but seemed to fear

To trust their accents to Medora's ear.

She saw at once, yet sunk not—trembled not—

Beneath that grief—that loneliness of lot—

Within that meek fair form were feelings high

That deem'd not till they found their energy.

While yet was Hope—they soften'd—flutter'd—wept—

All lost—that softness died not—but it slept—

And o'er its slumber rose that Strength which said,

"With nothing left to love—there's nought to dread."

'Tis more than nature's; like the burning might

Delirium gathers from the fever's height.

"Silent you stand—nor would I hear you tell

"What—speak not—breathe not—for I know it well—

"Yet would I ask—almost my lip denies

"The—quick your answer—tell me where he lies?"

"Lady! we know not—scarce with life we fled;

"But here is one denies that he is dead:

"He saw him bound; and bleeding—but alive."

She heard no further—'twas in vain to strive—

title: Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/80


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/22

288

W.T.—2


text:
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 So throbb'd each vein—each thought—till then withstood;

Her own dark soul—these words at once subdued—

She totters—falls—and senseless had the wave

Perchance but snatch'd her from another grave;

But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes,

They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies:

Dash o'er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew,

Raise—fan—sustain—till life returns anew;

Awake her handmaids—with the matrons leave

That fainting form o'er which they gaze and grieve;

Then seek Anselmo's cavern to report

The tale too tedious—when the triumph short.

IV.

In that wild council words wax'd warm and strange,

With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge;

All, save repose or flight—still lingering there

Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair;

Whate'er his fate—the breasts he form'd and led,

Will save him living, or appease him dead.

Woe to his foes! there yet survive a few,

Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true.

title: Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/81


text:
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 Less clear, perchance, its earthly trials pass'd,

But sunk, and chill'd, and petrified at last.

Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock;

If such his heart, so shatter'd it the shock.

There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow,

Though dark the shade—it shelter'd,—saved till now.

The thunder came—that bolt hath blasted both,

The Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth:

The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell

Its tale, but shrunk and wither'd where it fell,

And of its cold protector, blacken round

But shiver'd fragments on the barren ground!

XXIV.

'Tis morn—to venture on his lonely hour

Few dare—though now Anselmo sought his tower.

He was not there—nor seen along the shore;

Ere night, alarm'd, their isle is traversed o'er:

Another morn—another bids them seek,

And shout his name till echo waxeth weak;

Mount—grotto—cavern—valley search'd in vain,

They find on shore a sea-boat's broken chain—

Their hope revives—they follow o'er the main.

title: Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/108


text: Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/1


text:
Page:Richard Nixon's presidential daily calendar - 1969.djvu/104

 * }


title: User:Strus64


text:
Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/83

 "While baffled—weakened by this fatal fray—

"Watch'd—followed—he were then an easier prey;

"But once cut off—the remnant of his band

"Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand."

"Gulnare!—if for each drop of blood a gem

"Were offered rich as Stamboul's diadem;

"If for each hair of his a massy mine

"Of virgin ore should supplicating shine;

"If all our Arab tales divulge or dream

"Of wealth were here—that gold should not redeem!

"It had not now redeem'd a single hour—

"But that I know him fetter'd, in my power;

"And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still

"On pangs that longest rack—and latest kill.

"Nay, Seyd!—I seek not to restrain thy rage,

"Too justly moved for mercy to assuage;

"My thoughts were only to secure for thee

"His riches—thus released, he were not free:

"Disabled, shorn of half his might and band,

"His capture could but wait thy first command."

title: Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/83


text:
Page:Richard Nixon's presidential daily calendar - 1969.djvu/105

 * }


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Conrad, William


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Filariasis

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Filariasis


text: Weird Tales/Volume 28/Issue 3/Witch-Burning


text:
Author:Mary Elizabeth Counselman

Works

 * Ring Eclipse (1941)
 * Drifting Atoms (1941)
 * The Devil's Lottery (1948)
 * The Green Window (1949)
 * No Rain for N'Tomba (1951)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * Ring Eclipse (1941)
 * Drifting Atoms (1941)
 * The Devil's Lottery (1948)
 * The Green Window (1949)
 * No Rain for N'Tomba (1951)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * The Devil's Lottery (1948)
 * The Green Window (1949)
 * No Rain for N'Tomba (1951)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * The Green Window (1949)
 * No Rain for N'Tomba (1951)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * No Rain for N'Tomba (1951)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * The Spirit-Tree of Ajumba (1951)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)
 * Ndembo! (1953)
 * The Marriage-Hat of Golandi (1953)

title: Author:Mary Elizabeth Counselman


text: Weird Tales/Volume 28/Issue 3

title: Weird Tales/Volume 28/Issue 3


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 28 number 03.djvu/87

Rh blade, driven with all the power of the pirate's muscles, impaled the princess of Tecuhltli so that the point stood out between her breasts. Tascela screamed once and fell dead, and Valeria spurned the body with her heel as it fell.

"I had to do that much, for my own self-respect!" panted Valeria, facing Conan across the limp corpse.

"Well, this cleans up the feud," he grunted. "It's been a hell of a night! Where did these people keep their food? I'm hungry."

"You need a bandage on that leg." Valeria ripped a length of silk from a hanging and knotted it about her waist, then tore off some smaller strips which she bound efficiently about the barbarian's lacerated limb.

"I can walk on it," he assured her. "Let's begone. It's dawn, outside this infernal city. I've had enough of Xuchotl. It's well the breed exterminated itself. I don't want any of their accursed jewels. They might be haunted."

"There is enough clean loot in the world for you and me," she said, straightening to stand tall and splendid before him.

The old blaze came back in his eyes, and this time she did not resist as he caught her fiercely in his arms.

"It's a long way to the coast," she said presently, withdrawing her lips from his.

"What matter?" he laughed. "There's nothing we can't conquer. We'll have our feet on a ship's deck before the Stygians open their ports for the trading season. And then we'll show the world what plundering means!"

Died June 11, 1936

By R. H. BARLOW

 W.T.—7


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 "His capture could!—and shall I then resign

"One day to him—the wretch already mine?

"Release my foe!—at whose remonstrance?—thine!

"Fair suitor!—to thy virtuous gratitude,

"That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood,

"Which thee and thine alone of all could spare,

"No doubt—regardless if the prize were fair,

"My thanks and praise alike are due—now hear!

"I have a counsel for thy gentler ear:

"I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word

"Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard.

"Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai—

"Say, wert thou lingering there with him to fly?

"Thou need'st not answer—thy confession speaks,

"Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks;

"Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware:

"'Tis not his life alone may claim such care!

"Another word and—nay—I need no more.

"Accursed was the moment when he bore

"Thee from the flames, which better far—but—no—

"I then had mourn'd thee with a lover's woe—

"Now 'tis thy lord that warns—deceitful thing!

"Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing?

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 "In words alone I am not wont to chafe:

"Look to thyself—nor deem thy falsehood safe!"

He rose—and slowly, sternly thence withdrew.

Rage in his eye and threats in his adieu:

Ah! little reck'd that chief of womanhood—

Which frowns ne'er quell'd, nor menaces subdued;

And little deem'd he what thy heart—Gulnare!

When soft could feel, and when incens'd could dare.

His doubts appeared to wrong—nor yet she knew

How deep the root from whence compassion grew—

She was a slave—from such may captives claim

A fellow-feeling—differing but in name;

Still half unconscious—heedless of his wrath.

Again she ventured on the dangerous path,

Again his rage repell'd—until arose

That strife of thought—the source of woman's woes!

Meanwhile—long anxious—weary—still—the same

Roll'd day and night—his soul could terror tame—

This fearful interval of doubt and dread,

When every hour might doom him worse than dead,

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Four Minute Men Bulletin No. 25

COMMITTEE ON PUBLIC INFORMATION DIVISION OF FOUR MINUTE MEN February 12, 1918                                                                                Bulletin No. 25 4 MINUTE MEN 10 JACKSON PLACE WASHINGTON, D.C. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. TO ALL FOUR MINUTE MEN: Lincoln's Gettysburg address delivered July 4, 1864, "breathes the same spirit and ideals that inspire us in this war. We are, therefore, particularly desirous of having Four Minute Men read this speech in every motion picture theater in the land on the night of February 12, the anniversary of Lincoln's birthday.  (If theaters in your State are closed on this day read it Monday, the 11th.) As the reading of this speech should not consume more than two minutes, we suggest a few words of introduction (similar to those we have prepared) to bring out the point that the highest ideals have at all times pervaded the history of this country and that Lincoln, in the midst of war, expressed these ideals just as President Wilson expresses them to-day. Cordially, yours, four minute men, wm. Mccormick blair, Director. you will agree that careful previous reading of the speech is secure the best effect. P. S.—We believe necessary in order to 39418°—18 4 MINUTEMEN 4 EVER since the Liberty Bell at Philadelphia tolled its message to the world in 1776 this country has lived for Liberty and Right " as God gives us to see the Right." The language of our Presidents from the time of George Washington to this day breathes these highest ideals. So in this greatest of all wars the President again expresses the noblest of sentiments, emphasizing again and again "that this is a war of high principles, debased by no selfish ambitions of conquest or spoliation," and "the cause being just and holy, the settlement must be of like motive and quality." It seems most fitting, therefore, that on this day, February 12, the birthday of Abraham Lincoln, we should hear again the words of this great President in his Gettysburg address. For it is a wonderful expression of the cause for which this Nation has always fought and is still fighting to-day. I shall read that address: Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. FOURSCORE and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. Wo have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—-we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. Abraham Lincoln. WASHINGTON" : GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE : X918

title: Four Minute Men Bulletin No. 25


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18 and it was with money earned in this way that the first law books for the future senator were procured. During his last year at college he was one of the editors of the "Western Collegian" published at the institution. With a good record he was graduated from the classical course in 1872.

At Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, he studied law, earning part of the money to pay his way by acting as agent for the Associated Press, of which one of his uncles, William Henry Smith, was the founder, and at that time the manager. He remained in Pittsburg for nearly a year, then he worked for a short time as a reporter, and studied for one term at a law school in Cleveland, Ohio. At the close of this term, in 1874, he was admitted to the bar by the Supreme Court of Ohio, and the same year he removed to Indianapolis, Indiana, and entered upon the practice of his profession.

From small beginnings his professional income rapidly increased, until his law practice became one of the most important in the middle West. Friends advised him to enter the political field, but, though he was deeply interested in public affairs, his preference was strong for the practice of law. He was a frequent speaker at large meetings in important political campaigns, and thus he became well known to the people of his state before he was a candidate for any office. In the Republican national convention of 1888 he earnestly advocated the selection of Judge Walter Q. Gresham as candidate for President of the United States, but in the ensuing campaign he worked with an equal degree of zeal to secure the election of General Benjamin Harrison who had received the nomination. In 1892, and again in 1898, he served as chairman of the Indiana Republican state convention. In 1893 he received the Republican caucus nomination for United States senator, but was defeated by the Honorable David Turpie, the Democratic candidate, the Democrats having a majority on joint ballot.

Mr. Fairbanks was a delegate-at-large to the Republican national convention at St. Louis in 1896, and was temporary chairman. On January twentieth of the following year he was elected United States senator by a large majority, receiving the unanimous vote of the Republicans in the joint assembly. He was appointed by President McKinley a member of the United States and British Joint High Commission for the consideration of the proposed abrogation of the treaty of 1817, which prohibited the maintenance of war vessels


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 Rh exceeding a certain specified tonnage oh the Great Lakes, and of matters relating to the lake fisheries, to reciprocity with Canada, and to the Alaska boundary. He was chairman of the American Commissioners, and at the meetings of the joint commission at Quebec in 1898, and at Washington, District of Columbia, in 1899, he rendered important service.

In the presidential campaign of 1896 Mr. Fairbanks was leader of the Republican forces in Indiana and labored earnestly to secure the nomination and election of Major William McKinley, with whom he had long been on terms of intimate friendship. In congress he has exerted a strong influence upon legislation relating to the currency and the tariff, has served with great efficiency as chairman of the senate committee on Immigration, and later as chairman of the committee on Public Buildings and Grounds. Until it was evident that peaceful efforts would fail to secure an improvement in the intolerable conditions prevailing in Cuba, Mr. Fairbanks was a strong supporter of President McKinley in his effort to avoid an armed conflict with Spain; but when war seemed to be the only honorable course to pursue he advocated, with the president, its immediate declaration and its vigorous prosecution. He was offered a cabinet position by President McKinley, but believing that he could render the country better service in the senate, he declined the honor. On January 20, 1903, he was reelected to the senate by an increased majority. His present term would have expired March 3, 1909, had he not been elected vice-president. He was a delegate-at-large from Indiana to the Republican national convention at Chicago in June, 1904, and was there nominated by acclamation for vice-president of the United States.

He was married to Miss Cornelia Cole, October 6, 1874. Of their five children all are now living. He has received the degree of LL.D. from Baker university, Kansas, and from Ohio Wesleyan university. In politics he has always been a Republican. He is an effective speaker and his services are in great request in every presidential campaign. Within the past ten years he has addressed important political meetings in nearly every northern state. He has also delivered many addresses at college commencements and other anniversaries. Since his election to the senate he has not practised law. His religious connection is with the Methodist Episcopal church. For many years he has been a trustee of the Ohio Wesleyan university.


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 AY, JOHN, author, soldier, diplomat, statesman, was born October 8, 1838, at Salem, Indiana. His parents were Dr. Charles and Helen (Leonard) Hay. They were plain, substantial American people, who took a leading place in the community where they lived. Helen Hay was a daughter of the Reverend David A. Leonard, of Rhode Island. She was a woman of refinement and education, gentle but firm in disposition, and a fit companion for her worthy husband.

The ancestry of the family is traced back to John Hay, who came from Germany in 1750 and settled in Virginia. His ancestors had gone from Scotland to Germany several generations before. Adam, son of the Virginia John, was a soldier of the Revolution, an officer in the Continental army, and a friend of Washington. When independence was achieved, he joined the tide which has flowed steadily westward, and emigrating beyond the Alleghanies, settled in the "blue grass region." When it became evident that Kentucky was to be a slave state, John, a son of the Revolutionary Adam, entertaining principles that were irreconcilable with "the peculiar institution," removed to Illinois, a territory largely settled by pioneers of faith similar to his own.

On his mother's side John Hay's American ancestry is traced from Thomas Rogers, who came over in the Mayflower in 1620. It will be seen, therefore, that in this stock blend two strong strains: Scotch, and Puritan English.

The present John Hay, third of that name in America, was a hardy and adventurous youth, who grew up with a fondness for "reading and play." His early life was passed in a village on the upper Mississippi (Warsaw, Illinois), where he attended the public schools the greater part of the year and occupied the remainder of his time with such amusements and tasks as fall to the lot of the average village youth.

He studied at Brown university, Providence, Rhode Island, from which institution he was graduated with high honors in 1858.


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 AIRBANKS, CHARLES WARREN, Vice-President of the United States, is a man whose life and work show the great possibilties for honor and usefulness which are open to the American youth who is intelligent, industrious, persevering, and honorably ambitious. He was born in a log house on a farm near Unionville Center, Ohio, May 11, 1852. His parents were Loriston Monroe and Mary Adelaide (Smith) Fairbanks. His father was a farmer, esteemed for his industry, patriotism and purity of purpose, who in early manhood emigrated from New England to Union county, Ohio, which was then but sparsely settled. His mother was a woman of fine mind and character who exerted a strong influence for good upon the intellectual and moral life of her family. His earliest known ancestor in America was Jonathan Fayerbancke, one of the Puritan settlers in the Massachusetts colony, who with his sons built a house at Dedham in 1636 with timber brought from England. This house still remains, one of the ancient landmarks of that region, and in it the descendants of the builders held a largely attended reunion in August, 1904.

When Charles W. Fairbanks was old enough to work he had the tasks that were common to the boys on a farm in a region that was scarcely redeemed from the wilderness. His health was good and the conditions for its maintenance were favorable. He was faithful in his work on the farm, but inclined to be studious. The school terms were short, but such opportunities as they afforded were carefully improved, and during the long vacations studies were carried on at night after the work in the field for the day had been done. He was anxious to obtain a liberal education, and before he was ready for college he had determined to become a lawyer.

In 1867 he entered the Ohio Wesleyan university at Delaware, Ohio, which was only a few miles from his home. Circumstances were such that economy was necessary, and during his college course a considerable part of his food was taken to him from the farm. When time could be spared from his studies he worked as a carpenter,


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Rh As later academic distinctions he has received the degree of LL.D. from Brown, Western Reserve, Dartmouth, Princeton, Yale and Harvard.

After his graduation he entered the law office of Hay and Cullom, at Springfield, Illinois. The senior member of the firm was his uncle, and through him he became acquainted with Abraham Lincoln, with whom he formed an intimate friendship which continued until it was broken by death. He also made friends of many of the other distinguished men of the state. He gave diligent attention to his law studies, in which he made good progress, and was admitted to the bar early in 1861. He learned much regarding politics, too, and laid the foundations for his later success in the management of political affairs. Both as a writer for the press and as a speaker at public meetings he was prominent in the presidential campaign of 1860, and he made his influence felt to such an extent that, when the president-elect set out on his memorable inaugural trip to Washington, he invited the young lawyer to become his private secretary. This brought him into close relationship with many of the distinguished men of those stirring times, and gave him an acquaintance that proved of incalculable benefit in after life.

In addition to his duties as private secretary to the president, Mr. Hay served for some time in the field as major and assistant adjutant-general. He acted mainly as a medium of communication between Mr. Lincoln and the general commanding the armies. For his faithful performance of the duties of these positions he was promoted to the rank of colonel by brevet.

The relations between the president and his secretary were so close and cordial as almost to resemble those of father and son, and, quite naturally, after the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, Colonel Hay no longer cared to continue his connection with the office of the chief executive. He therefore accepted an appointment as secretary of legation at Paris, where he remained from 1865 to 1867, having for a portion of the time full charge of the legation. In 1867-68 he was charge d'affaires at Vienna, and from 1869 to 1870, secretary of legation at Madrid. Returning home near the close of the latter year, he became an editorial writer on the New York Tribune, and continued in that position until 1875. This embraced one of the most exciting periods of our after-war history, including Horace Greeley's candidacy for the presidency and his melancholy death.


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22 The great editor entertained a high appreciation of the talents of his younger associate, and referred to him as the most brilliant writer who had ever been connected with the Tribune staff.

During a portion of President Hayes' administration, from November 1, 1879, to May 3, 1881, Mr. Hay was first assistant secretary of state under Mr. Evarts, and during the last-named year he also acted as president of the International Sanitary Congress, which held its sessions in Washington. For about seven months in this year he served as editor-in-chief of the New York Tribune.

In 1897 President McKinley, at the beginning of his first term, expressed a preference for Colonel Hay as secretary of state, but for various political reasons which seemed to be of importance to his party and to the country at large, he decided to offer this position to Senator Sherman, by whom it was accepted. Mr. Hay was thereupon appointed ambassador to Great Britain, a position for which his talents and his varied accomplishments peculiarly fitted him. He won recognition at once, and is generally regarded as one of the world's famous diplomats and statesmen. During the eighteen months of his residence at the Court of St. James he succeeded in establishing and maintaining the most friendly relations between England and the United States. There is no doubt that to his skillful and far-seeing diplomacy the neutrality of the English during our war with Spain was principally due. He won great personal as well as social and official popularity during his stay in England, and it is doubtful if any American minister has made a more favorable or lasting impression on the British mind.

Mr. Hay assumed the duties of secretary of state on September 30, 1898, succeeding Honorable William R. Day. This was the stormy period of our troubles with Spain over the settlement of the Cuban question, and our relations with several of the leading nations of the world were such as to demand the wisest statesmanship. One of Secretary Hay's first prominent acts was the securing of a modus Vivendi wdth England, providing for a temporary boundary line through disputed territory in Alaska without the surrender of a single contention on the part of the United States. The wisdom and justice of this measure were subsequently recognized in the findings of the Canadian Boundary Commission, which assembled in London in 1904, its decision being practically a confirmation of our claims as set forth by Mr. Hay. This was a victory of unusual


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 Rh significance for the American secretary and is by no means one of the least of his titles to fame.

A treaty relating to an interoceanic canal was drafted by Secretary Hay and forwarded to the senate February 5, 1900. This was known as the Hay-Pauncefote treaty and specified the relations which England and the United States should hold regarding the projected canal. The tenor of this treaty was quite generally misunderstood at the time and led to attacks on Mr. Hay for what was termed his excessive friendship for England. But the history and purpose of the proposed treaty were grievously misinterpreted. Instead of being an unfair concession to Great Britain it was a distinct surrender on her part of undue advantage conceded to her by the impracticable Clayton-Bulwer treaty of 1850, which for half a century had steadily blocked the way to the building of a canal. The measure, with some amendments, was ratified by the senate on December 20, 1900, by the decisive vote of fifty-five to eighteen. It failed to become operative, however, through the neglect of the British Government to respond within the time specified.

Not discouraged by this bit of ill fortune Mr. Hay at once began negotiations with Lord Pauncefote for a new treaty on the same lines, which was signed November 18, 1901, and ratified by the senate on the sixteenth of December of the same year by an almost unanimous vote.

A treaty was then made by Mr. Hay with the Colombian Legation in Washington which the Bogota Government refused to ratify. The consequence of this action was a revolution in Panama by which that state gained its independence. The final treaty, by virtue of which the United States acquired the right to build a canal across the Isthmus, was negotiated by Mr. Hay with the Minister of Panama, Mr. Bunau-Varilla, signed on November 18,1903, and ratified by the senate February 23,1904.

Meanwhile the "open-door" policy with China had been announced by Secretary Hay in a letter to the powers maintaining spheres of influence in that country, bearing date September 6, 1899, and inviting expressions as to their intentions and views concerning the desirability of measures to secure equal facilities for all nations in foreign trade throughout the empire. This formal announcement of a common policy, which could not be legitimately denied by the powers, since it demanded nothing but simple justice


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72 When every step that echoed by the gate,

Might entering lead where axe and stake await;

When every voice that grated on his ear

Might be the last that he could ever hear;

Could terror tame—that spirit stern and high

Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;

'Twas worn—perhaps decayed—yet silent bore

That conflict deadlier far than all before:

The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale.

Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail;

But bound and fix'd in fettered solitude,

To pine, the prey of every changing mood;

To gaze on thine own heart—and meditate

Irrevocable faults—and coming fate—

Too late the last to shun—the first to mend—

To count the hours that struggle to thine end,

With not a friend to animate and tell

To other ears that death became thee well;

Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,

And blot life's latest scene with calumny:

Before thee tortures, which the soul can dare,

Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear;

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Rh less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure through all the ages. As ever he did, well may the Wielder reward thee still!” Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:— “This work of war most willingly we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared force of the foe. Fain, too, were I hadst thou but seen himself, what time the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall! Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe on his bed of death to bind him down, that he in the hent of this hand of mine should breathe his last: but he broke away. Him I might not—the Maker willed not— hinder from flight, and firm enough hold the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he, the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however, he left behind him his hand in pledge, arm and shoulder; nor aught of help could the curséd one thus procure at all. None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend, sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him tightly grasped in gripe of anguish, in baleful bonds, where bide he must, evil outlaw, such awful doom as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.”

More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,


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66 since athelings all, through the earl’s great prowess, beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing, foeman’s fingers,—the forepart of each of the sturdy nails to steel was likest,— heathen’s “hand-spear,” hostile warrior’s claw uncanny. ’Twas clear, they said, that him no blade of the brave could touch, how keen soever, or cut away that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.

There was hurry and hest in Heorot now for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse, the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings that were wove on the wall, and wonders many to delight each mortal that looks upon them. Though braced within by iron bands, that building bright was broken sorely; rent were its hinges; the roof alone held safe and sound, when, seared with crime, the fiendish foe his flight essayed,


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Rh of life despairing.—No light thing that, the flight for safety,—essay it who will! Forced of fate, he shall find his way to the refuge ready for race of man, for soul-possessors, and sons of earth; and there his body on bed of death shall rest after revel. Arrived was the hour when to hall proceeded Healfdene’s son: the king himself would sit to banquet. Ne’er heard I of host in haughtier throng more graciously gathered round giver-of-rings! Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory, fain of the feasting. Featly received many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit, kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall, Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings ne’er yet had tried the traitor’s deed. To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph, broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet; and a splendid sword was seen of many borne to the brave one. Beowulf took cup in hall: for such costly gifts


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 "Character! Eh! You must not ask the Melbourne sharks for it: if you do, you will hear of one not worth having. Now let's shoulder the emus; there's lots of oil in these fellows good for bruises, sprains, rheumatism, lumbago, and all that. I have a boat in a creek yonder, and shall be happy to take you to Dodge's station—'tis on the borders of the bay of Westernport."

"Perhaps," said Slinger, "this Dodge will not receive us very civilly: he might make the same mistake you did, and treat us as bailiffs; although, I must say, I should not feel flattered by his doing so."

"No he wont," said the stranger; "I can answer for that;" and he called his dogs to him and examined the one which had been hurt in the late affray.

They then set off for the creek, which was not far, carrying the birds between them. The stranger dragged his boat out of the mangroves which lined the muddy banks, and deposited the spoil in the stern sheets, launched her over the mud into the water, and they drifted slowly down.

"To whom are we indebted for this kindness?" Hugh asked.

"To that respectable gentleman I spoke of—old Dodge himself—He is your humble servant.—Strangers, allow me to introduce to you Giles Dodge—squatter—an outlaw (that means out of the reach of the law, you know,)—the will-o'the-wisp of lawyers—the terror of bailiffs—and as good a rifle shot as any in these parts; who can sneak a kangaroo or a bailiff with any man in the settlement—if he can't may I be darned." What the process of darning might mean was not probably within the comprehension of his listeners; but as he shut one eye in an eccentric manner and threw his face into strange contortions, the reader may conclude that it must have signified something very dreadful indeed.

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68 he suffered no shame in that soldier throng. For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood, with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold, on the ale-bench honoring others thus! O’er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge, wound with wires, kept ward o’er the head, lest the relict-of-files should fierce invade, sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero should go to grapple against his foes. Then the earls’-defence on the floor bade lead coursers eight, with carven head-gear, adown the hall: one horse was decked with a saddle all shining and set in jewels; ’twas the battle-seat of the best of kings, when to play of swords the son of Healfdene was fain to fare. Ne’er failed his valor in the crush of combat when corpses fell. To Beowulf over them both then gave the refuge-of-Ingwines right and power, o’er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them. Manfully thus the mighty prince, hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid with steeds and treasures contemned by none who is willing to say the sooth aright.


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AND

I. On the Magnetic Effects produced by Motion in the Electric Field.

By, M.A., F.R.S

the April number of the Philosophical Magazine Mr. Heaviside discusses the question of a moving electrified sphere, and while agreeing with the results I obtained some time ago as to the magnetic force produced by such a sphere when moving slowly, differs as to the numerical magnitude of the energy possessed by the sphere and the forces acting upon it when placed in a magnetic field. The latter quantities, however, do not depend merely upon the alterations caused by the motion of the sphere in the polarization of the dielectric surrounding the sphere, but also upon the boundary conditions we adopt and upon the view we take of the motion close to the sphere of the medium in which the electric displacements occur.

This will be seen in the course of the following investigation, in which I have endeavoured to take into account the motion of the medium in which the displacements occur. I find that, in order to close the circuits in this case, it is necessary to assume effects which, as far as I know, have not been noticed.

Let us consider the case when the electric field is that due to a charged sphere moving parallel to the axis of $$z$$ with the velocity $$w_0$$, the components at $$(x, y, z)$$ of the velocity of the medium being $$u, v, w$$; then, if we supposed that the displacement ''Phil. Mag.'' S. 5. Vol. 28. No. 170. July 1889.

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2 -currents are due entirely to variations in the electric displacement $$(f, g, h)$$ caused by the motion of the sphere and the medium, the components $$\xi_{1},\eta_{1},\zeta_{1}$$ of these currents would be given by

$\begin{array}{c} \xi_{1}=u\dfrac{df}{dx}+v\dfrac{df}{dy}+\left(w-w_{0}\right)\dfrac{df}{dz},\\ \\ \eta_{1}=u\dfrac{dg}{dx}+v\dfrac{dg}{dy}+\left(w-w_{0}\right)\dfrac{dg}{dz},\\ \\ \zeta_{1}=u\dfrac{dh}{dx}+v\dfrac{dh}{dy}+\left(w-w_{0}\right)\dfrac{dh}{dz}. \end{array}$

These values, however, do not satisfy the equation

$\frac{d\xi_{1}}{dx}+\frac{d\eta_{1}}{dy}+\frac{d\zeta_{1}}{dz}=0,$|undefined

unless the dielectric is moving uniformly; so that, if the circuits are to be closed, the motion of the medium must produce some other effect analogous to a current.

Since

$\begin{array}{l} \dfrac{d\xi_{1}}{dx}+\dfrac{d\eta_{1}}{dy}+\dfrac{d\zeta_{1}}{dz}=\dfrac{d}{dx}\left(f\dfrac{du}{dx}+g\dfrac{du}{dy}+h\dfrac{du}{dz}\right)\\ \\ \qquad+\dfrac{d}{dy}\left(f\dfrac{dv}{dx}+g\dfrac{dv}{dy}+h\dfrac{dv}{dz}\right)+\dfrac{d}{dz}\left(f\dfrac{dw}{dx}+g\dfrac{dw}{dy}+h\dfrac{dw}{dz}\right), \end{array}$|undefined

we see that the currents will be closed if we add on to the components $$\xi_{1},\eta_{1},\zeta_{1}$$ the components $\xi_{0},\zeta_{0},\rho_{0}$ξ₀, η₀, ζ₀ [sic], where

$\begin{array}{c} -\xi_{0}=f\dfrac{du}{dx}+g\dfrac{du}{dy}+h\dfrac{du}{dz},\\ \\ -\eta_{0}=f\dfrac{dv}{dx}+g\dfrac{dv}{dy}+h\dfrac{dv}{dz},\\ \\ -\zeta_{0}=f\dfrac{dw}{dx}+g\dfrac{dw}{dy}+h\dfrac{dw}{dz}. \end{array}$

The medium is assumed to be incompressible, so that

$\frac{du}{dx}+\frac{dv}{dy}+\frac{dw}{dz}=0.$

Hence the components of the total effective currents are

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text:
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Rh $\begin{array}{l} \xi+\xi_{0}=\dfrac{d}{dy}(vf-ug)-\dfrac{d}{dz}\left(uh-\left(w-w_{0}\right)f\right),\\ \\ \eta+\eta_{0}=\dfrac{d}{dz}\left(\left(w-w_{0}\right)g-vh\right)-\dfrac{d}{dx}\left(vf-ug\right),\\ \\ \zeta+\zeta_{0}=\dfrac{d}{dx}\left(uh-\left(w-w_{0}\right)f\right)-\dfrac{d}{dy}\left(\left(w-w_{0}\right)g-vh\right). \end{array}$

If the motion of the medium is irrotational, these conditions will be satisfied if we suppose that the motion of the dielectric gives rise to magnetic forces whose components $$\alpha,\beta,\gamma$$ are given by the equations

{{MathForm2|(1)|$$\left.\begin{array}{l} \alpha=4\pi\left(\left(w-w_{0}\right)g-vh\right),\\ \beta=4\pi\left(uh-\left(w-w_{0}\right)f\right),\\ \gamma=4\pi(vf-ug). \end{array}\right\} $$}}

If we suppose that the electric field is due to a number of charged spheres moving with velocities $$\left(u_{1},v_{1},w_{1}\right)\ \left(u_{2},v_{2},w_{2}\right)\ \ldots$$ respectively, and producing electric displacements whose components are $$\left(f{}_{1},g_{1},h_{1}\right)\ \left(f_{2},g_{2},h_{2}\right)$$ the component of the magnetic force parallel to $$x$$ will be

$4\pi\left(wg-vh-\left\{ w_{1}g_{1}+w_{2}g_{2}+\ldots-v_{1}h_{1}-v_{2}h_{2}\ldots\right\} \right)$

where $$f, g, h$$ are the resultant displacements.

Thus, since in the general case when the æther is in motion the assumption that the currents are merely due to the changes in the polarization caused by the æther moving from a place where the displacement has one value to another where it has a different one is insufficient if the circuits are closed, it is necessary to replace it by another; the assumption we shall adopt is that the motion of the polarized æther sets up magnetic forces whose components are given by equations (1).

When the æther is at rest this agrees with Maxwell's principle that the currents are equal to the rate of increase of the electric displacement. We should get these magnetic forces if, in the expression for the mean Lagrangian function of unit volume of the moving æther, there was the term

$\begin{array}{r} a\left\{ wg-vh-\sum\left(w_{1}g_{1}-v_{1}h_{1}\right)\right\} +b\left\{ uh-wf-\sum\left(u_{1}h_{1}-w_{1}f_{1}\right)\right\} \\ \\ +c\left\{ vf-ug-\sum\left(v_{1}f_{1}-u_{1}g_{1}\right)\right\} , \end{array}$

where $$a, b, c$$ are the components of the magnetic induction.

This term would show that there is an electromotive force parallel to $$x$$ equal to

$cv-bw,$

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