text:
Duckworth v. Arkansas/Concurrence Jackson

MR. JUSTICE JACKSON, concurring in result.

I agree that this Court should not relieve Duckworth of his conviction, but I would rest the decision on the constitutional provision applicable only to the transportation of liquor, and refrain from what I regard as an unwise extension of state power over interstate commerce.

I
Appellant was convicted for transporting a load of intoxicating liquor through Arkansas without permit from that State on the way from Illinois to Mississippi. The owner of the liquor testified, and his testimony was treated as a stipulation of fact, "that the liquor was intended to be sold in the State of Mississippi in violation of the state laws of Mississippi."

The Twenty-first Amendment provides:

"'The transportation or importation into any State, Territory, or possession of the United States for delivery or use therein of intoxicating liquors, in violation of the laws thereof, is hereby prohibited.'"

Duckworth now contends that it is our duty to assure him safe conduct as against the action of Arkansas, although his goal is to violate both the laws of Mississippi and the Federal Constitution. He asks us to hold that one provision of the Constitution guarantees him an opportunity to violate another. The law is not that tricky.

Whether one transporting liquor across Arkansas to a legal destination might not have some claim to federal protection, we do not need to consider. One who assails the constitutionality of a statute must stand on his own [p398] right to relief. Since this appellant had no rightful claim to constitutional protection for his trip, the whole purpose of which was to violate the Constitution which he invokes, we should leave him where we find him, and for this reason I concur in the judgment of this Court affirming the conviction.

II
If we yield to an urge to go beyond this rather narrow but adequate ground of decision, we should then consider whether this liquor controversy cannot properly be determined by guidance from the liquor clauses of the Constitution. These clauses of the Twenty-first Amendment create an important distinction between state power over the liquor traffic and state power over commerce in general. The people of the United States knew that liquor is a lawlessness unto itself. They determined that it should be governed by a specific and particular constitutional provision. They did not leave it to the courts to devise special distortions of the general rules as to interstate com- [p399] merce to curb liquor's "tendency to get out of legal bounds." It was their unsatisfactory experience with that method that resulted in giving liquor an exclusive place in constitutional law as a commodity whose transportation is governed by a special constitutional provision.

Transportation itself presented no special dangers or hazards, but it might be a step in evading and undermining a policy as to use and sale of liquor which the state has a right to prescribe for itself. Regulated transportation of liquor is a necessary incident of regulated consumption and distribution. So the Twenty-first Amendment made the laws as to delivery and use in the state of destination the test of legality of interstate movement. This obviously gives to state law a much greater control over interstate liquor traffic than over commerce in any other commodity.

If the Twenty-first Amendment is not to be resorted to for the decision of liquor cases, it is on the way to becoming another "almost forgotten" clause of the Constitution. Compare Edwards v. California, ante, p. 183. It certainly applies to nothing else. We should decide whether this Arkansas statute is sustainable under the Twenty-first Amendment. Does it authorize a state to exact some assurance that all liquor entering its territory either is imported for lawful delivery under its own laws or will pass through without diversion? The Amendment might bear a construction that would allow a state to prohibit liquor from entering its borders at all unless by responsible carrier under consignment to some lawful destination within or beyond the state. I should not at all object to considering all of the potential evils which the Court's opinion associates with the liquor traffic, and some more that I could supply, to be sufficient reasons for giving a liberal interpretation to the Twenty-first Amendment as to state power over liquor. But the Court brushes aside the liquor provisions of the Twenty-first Amendment. [p400]

III
The opinion of the Court solves the present case through a construction of the interstate commerce power. It regards this liquor as a legitimate subject of a lawful commerce, and then, because of its special characteristics, approves this admittedly novel permit system and thus expands the power of the state to regulate such lawful commerce beyond anything this Court has yet approved.

The extent to which state legislation may be allowed to affect the conduct of interstate business in the absence of Congressional action on the subject has long been a vexatious problem. Recently the tendency has been to abandon the earlier limitations and to sustain more freely such state laws on the ground that Congress has power to supersede them with regulation of its own. It is a tempting escape from a difficult question to pass to Congress the responsibility for continued existence of local restraints and obstructions to national commerce. But these restraints are individually too petty, too diversified, and too local to get the attention of a Congress hard pressed with more urgent matters. The practical result is that in default of action by us they will go on suffocating and retarding and Balkanizing American commerce, trade and industry.

I differ basically with my brethren as to whether the inertia of government shall be on the side of restraint of commerce or on the side of freedom of commerce. The sluggishness of government, the multitude of matters that clamor for attention, and the relative ease with which men are persuaded to postpone troublesome decisions, all make inertia one of the most decisive powers in determining the course of our affairs and frequently gives to the established order of things a longevity and vitality much beyond its merits. Because that is so, I am reluctant to see any new local systems for restraining our national commerce [p401] get the prestige and power of established institutions. The Court's present opinion and tendency would allow the states to establish the restraints and let commerce struggle for Congressional action to make it free. This trend I am unwilling to further in any event beyond the plain requirements of existing cases.

If the reaction of this Court against what many of us have regarded as an excessive judicial interference with legislative action is to yield wholesome results, we must be cautious lest we merely rush to other extremes. The excessive use for insufficient reason of a judicially inflated due process clause to strike down states' laws regulating their own internal affairs, such as hours of labor in industry, minimum wage requirements, and standards for working conditions, is one thing. To invoke the interstate commerce clause to keep the many states from fastening their several concepts of local "well-being" onto the national commerce is a wholly different thing.

Our national free intercourse is never in danger of being suddenly stifled by dramatic and sweeping acts of restraint. That would produce its own antidote. Our danger, as the forefathers well knew, is from the aggregate strangling effect of a multiplicity of individually petty and diverse and local regulations. Each may serve some local purpose worthy enough by itself. Congress may very properly take into consideration local policies and dangers when it exercises its power under the commerce clause. But to let each locality conjure up its own dangers and be the judge of the remedial restraints to be clamped onto interstate trade inevitably retards our national economy and disintegrates our national society. It is the movement and exchange of goods that sustain living standards, both of him who produces and of him who consumes. This vital national interest in free commerce among the states must not be jeopardized.

[p402] I do not suppose the skies will fall if the Court does allow Arkansas to rig up this handy device for policing liquor on the ground that it is not forbidden by the commerce clause, but in doing so it adds another to the already too numerous and burdensome state restraints of national commerce and pursues a trend with which I would have no part.


text:
Page:The Message and Ministrations of Dewan Bahadur R. Venkata Ratnam, volume 1.djvu/404

 Another trait in him was that he was a fund of stories—there was no end of anecdotes. We, shallow people, think that anecdotage is only a mark of dotage. We think that the man is shallow and he cannot think of abstract principles and maxims. It may so in some cases. But in the case of Sastri Mahashai, anecdotes were the stepping-stones of details in life on which he rose to the higher self. Every one of these he used as a crystallised principle, a concretised maxim, a truth distilled into the essence of experienced facts. And how these came, not with the deliberate effort of one who seeks to make himself agreeable, but with the spontaneity of one in whom they were all deposited as a treasure for narration and edification! With what i kindliness and glow and with what charm and persuasiveness they came I He did not hesitate to narrate anecdotes about himself, because they were facts, they wore truths. Once a man came up to us^ talking incoherently; Pandit Sastri said: he would see him by and by because we were going to a place

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


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/135

Rh tations. These, too, are based on superstitions handed down from heathendom, and they simply assumed a somewhat different form during the middle age. Closely allied to these are the songs of the supernatural, terrible power of the runes. The belief in ghosts and apparitions, which occurs in many Danish ballads, as in "Svend Dyring," "Aage and Else," etc., is also founded on very ancient representations of "drows" and "hill-dwellers" which had been transmitted almost without change from time immemorial.

Thus we see at every point where it could be expected a remarkably well preserved connection between the views concerning the supernatural in the poetry of antiquity and in the middle-age ballad.

But it is still more surprising to find this same relation existing in a field where we would hardly look for it, that is to say in the ballads of Christian miracles or legendary songs, which have for their themes episodes from the life of Christ and of the saints. Thus King Olaf the Saint and his fight with the evil spirits (the trolls) is blended with the god Thor and his fight with the giants, and the king even inherits the red-beard of Asa-Thor. An Icelandic skaldic lay describes Christ sitting at the fountain of Urd, and the old poem Solarljoð in the Elder Edda, with its remarkable struggle between the asa-faith and Christianity, is closely connected with the Norwegian ballad Draumkvæði, in which we can in a few passages trace the very words of the original poem. In Danish ballads too mythical ideas are applied to the life of Jesus, as, for example, the episode of the blind Hoder, who pierces Balder with his arrow.

Many of the saints who are celebrated in the legendary ballads are in reality the old heathen gods in a Christian dress, and the whole outline of these songs is frequently


text:
Page:The spirit of the Hebrew poetry 1861.djvu/71

 Now let the requirement be this—that, without displacing the rhyme, or greatly altering the sense, every line of the eight shall begin with the same letter—shall it be W?

We should never accept this, or any other alliterative form of the verse, as if it were in itself preferable to its original form, constrained only by the laws of metre, and by the rhyme. Nevertheless, the sentiment, or final meaning of the original, is conveyed, with little, if any damage, in the more constrained. form that is demanded by the rule of alliteration:—the injury inflicted in this instance is technical, more than it is substantial. It may easily be admitted, that, if a composition of great length were intended to subserve purposes of popular instruction, the alliterative form might be chosen for the sake of the aid it affords to the memory, and thus tending to secure a faultless transmission of the whole, from father to son, or, rather, from the religious mother to her children. It will be our part hereafter to show that the religious intention of the Inspired writings is securely conveyed under


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/136

118 more heathen than Christian. Especially striking is also the popularity which St. Jörgen (St. George) enjoyed among the nations of the North. There can be no doubt that this was due to a union of Christian ideas with imperishable memories of heathendom. St. George acquired a special prominence, for while his fight with the dragon symbolized the struggle between Christianity and the devil, it at the same time commemorated Thor's fight with the midgard-serpent and the combat between Sigurd and Fafner.

Although we have included all these songs under the general head of mythical ballads, still this term does not apply absolutely to all the poems embraced in this category, but we trust it indicates with sufficient clearness the fact we wished to establish. Regardless of their real poetical value, these ballads are of the deepest interest on account of the unique and instructive light they throw on the manner in which the heathen and Christian ideas confronted each other in the middle age. These ballads illustrate how many of the old myths were preserved in a more or less modified form, and how during the amalgamation of the different elements a very strange and romantic view of nature was developed. The second group, which embraces the historical ballads and those closely allied to them, acquires its chief importance from its abundance of vivid and highly colored pictures of middle-age life and view of things in general, which are presented to us precisely as they must have looked to the people of that time. These ballads portray to us no less graphically how certain important events were conceived and transformed by the masses. While the mythic ballads are chiefly transformations or adaptations of the poems of a more remote period, or while they, at all events, are so completely based on traditions from the heathen time that they belong, so to speak, to both ages, the historical ballads and those belonging to the same general group, contain the poetry, thoughts and views of life of the middle-age proper. When the history of the age was to be told the vernacular was


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/137

Rh silent, but, instead, the historical views of the middle-age were expressed in broad outlines in the contemporary ballads. They are not of course historical sources in the sense that the details which they furnish may be relied on; they are primarily poems in which the facts are modified and adapted with admirable skill to the poetical idea which the poet wished to work out. Moreover, the oral tradition which handed down these poems—far more interesting on account of their poetical than on account of their historical contents—from generation to generation, could not fail to have an altogether unfavorable influence on the preservation of the historical details. Nevertheless these ballads are of great historical value, first as pictures, which may have been sketched not very much later than the events they describe occurred, that is to say, while the events in their general outlines were still vividly present to the mind of the poet; and, secondly, as an expression of the popular opinion of the event and of the persons connected with it. Thus we have in the ballads not only a number of exquisite poems, but also pictures drawn from the life of the middle age, and the latter are of great value to history, although it can in many instances be pointed out that their description of events does not tally with the results yielded by other strictly historical sources.

Besides the ballads relating to historical persons, we have numerous so-called, in which the plot is chiefly pure fiction. Many of them possess great beauty. They introduce us into the different walks of life in the middle age and furnish very interesting pictures of the daily activities of men at that time. We see the castles with their halls, their bowers for ladies and for maidens, the orchard and the game-park, the towers above the gates, from which the watchmen sound their horns before the draw-bridge is lowered when strangers arrive on horseback. We see the busy life within their portals: how the ladies and the waiting-women ply the loom or study their prayer-books;


text:
User talk:Thomascolville

Charles Harold Davis
I have references that will fill out his bibliography if someone can guide me on how to edit. Thomascolville (talk) 14:44, 24 December 2023 (UTC)
 * Bibliography would go on the Wikipedia article for him. Our Author pages are for listing works that are in public domain (not under copyright) and which can be legally hosted here. --EncycloPetey (talk) 15:29, 24 December 2023 (UTC)

title: User talk:Thomascolville


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/138

120 how the knights and their friends sit over their wine-goblets; how accompanied by their servants and hounds they set out on their hunting expeditions, or arm themselves for a war either to defend the realm or to take revenge on an enemy. In short, we are able, on the basis of these ballads, to draw vivid and faithful pictures of the life of chivalry in all its aspects, pictures for which these ballads alone can furnish the materials, and thus they are of inestimable value to the student of the history of civilization. And, finally, in their rich and varied contents they reveal to us the customs and usages, the mode of thought and manner of action of the middle age in an endless variety of grotesque stories.

Great prominence is given to love in these ballads. Many a touching episode is given of inviolable faith and of hard struggles against a pitiless fate preventing the union of lovers, as for instance in the celebrated song of Axel and Valborg. Still love, as revealed in these ballads, is rarely of the sentimental kind; on the contrary it is usually passionately sensual and shuns no means of securing the coveted prize. Upon the whole we are in many ways reminded that we are contemplating a remote age teeming with untamed passions and regarding right and honor with eyes totally different from ours. Abduction of women, deeds of violence, savage and cruel revenge on successful rivals, etc., are by no means rare occurrences, but on the other hand there are numerous examples of noble, lofty feelings. In some ballads of chivalry the development of the plot is made so subordinate that the lyric element predominates. Still these are mere exceptions, for as a rule these too, like the other varieties of this group, are epic in their contents though highly lyric in form. Deserving of mention are also the not very numerous humorous poems which must also be included in the category of ballads of chivalry, since they borrow their materials from the life of the knights, and finally the satirical songs in which especially godless monks are held up to ridicule. The latter date, of course, from the close of the


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/68

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/68


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/69

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/69


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/70

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/70


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/71

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/71


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/72

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/72


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/73

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/73


text:
Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 11.pdf/98

 things refuse to stir. The dead and stunned, the living and the dead together, are dragged away and thrust into iron crates to be boiled down for their oil. The broken living with the dead Each bird yields about a farthing's profit, but it pays to kill them at that, and so the thing is done. The people who run these operations, you see, have had a sound commercial training. They believe that when God gives us power He means us to use it, and that what is profitable is just."

"Well really," protested Mr. Dad. "Really!"

Mr. Farr also betrayed a disposition to speak. He cleared his throat, his uneasy hands worried the edge of the table, his face shone. "Sir Eliphaz," he said

"Let me finish," said Mr. Huss, "for I have still to remind you of the most stubborn facts of all in such an argument as this. Have you ever thought of the significance of such creatures as the entozoa, and the vast multitudes of other sorts of specialised parasites whose very existence is cruelty? There are thousands of orders and genera of insects, crustacea, arachnids, worms, and lowlier things, which are adapted in the most complicated way to prey upon the living and suffering tissues of their fellow creatures, and which can live in no other way. Have you ever thought what that means? If forethought framed these horrors what sort of benevolence was there in that forethought? I will not distress you by describing the life cycles of any of these creatures too exactly. You must know of many of them. I will not dwell upon those wasps, for example, which lay their eggs in the living bodies of victims which


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/74

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/74


text:
Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 11.pdf/99

 the young will gnaw to death slowly day by day as they develop, nor will I discuss this unmeaning growth of cells which has made my body its soil Nor any one of our thousand infectious fevers that fall upon us—without reason, without justice

"Man is of all creatures the least subjected to internal parasites. In the brief space of a few hundred thousand years he has changed his food, his habitat and every attitude and habit of his life, and comparatively few species, thirty or forty at most, I am told, have been able to follow his changes and specialise themselves to him under these fresh conditions; yet even man can entertain some fearful guests. Every time you drink open water near a sheep pasture you may drink the larval liver fluke, which will make your liver a little township of vile creatures until they eat it up, until they swarm from its oozing ruins into your body cavity and destroy you. In Europe this is a rare fate for a man, but in China there are wide regions where the fluke abounds and rots the life out of thousands of people The fluke is but one sample of such feats of the Creator. An unwashed leaf of lettuce may be the means of planting a parasitic cyst in your brain to dethrone your reason; a feast of underdone pork may transfer to you from the swine the creeping death torture of trichinosis But all that men suffer in these matters is nothing to the suffering of the beasts. The torments of the beasts are finished and complete. My biological master tells me that he rarely opens a cod or dogfish without finding bunches of some sort of worm or suchlike pallid lodger in


text: Index:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/439

420

Russia, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. A new ed. Eng. tit. 8 pl. 1 map. 12° London, J: Murray, 1835.

——— A visit to Iceland, by way of Tronyem, in the "Flower of Yarrow" yacht, in the summer of 1834. 9 pl. 12° London, J: Murray, 1835.

——— The same: From the 2d London ed. In (Adam). Select circulating library, v. 7. 4°. Philadelphia, A. Waldie, 1836, pp. 308-342.

(J:) Denmark with Schleswig-Holstein and Lauenburg.—Iceland, Greenland and Copenhagen. (Philips' series of travelling maps.) 24 x 24 in., backed with cloth and fol'd in 16° covers. London, G: Philip & son. [n. d.]

——— (Scandinavia.) Sweden and Norway. (Philips' series of travelling maps.) 20 x 24 in., backed with cloth and fol'd in 16° covers. London, G: Philip & son, [n. d.]

(Ralph, illustrator). See (Matthew). A tour through Sweden and Denmark. 1789.

(Solomon, pseud.) Tales of travels in the north of Europe. 1831. See (W: Joseph).

(—). Two summers in Norway. [Anon.] 2 v. 12° London, Saunders & Otley, 1840.

(Mountague). The Schleswig-Holstein question considered in a lecture delivered March 9, 1864. 8° Oxford and London, J: H: & J. Parker, 1864.

(T:, illustrator). See (Matthew). A tour through Sweden and Denmark. 1789.

(Michael Anthony Shrapnel). See (T:) Norway in 1848 and 1849.

(Robert). Visions of the times of old; or, the antiquarian enthusiast. 3 v. 8°. London, C. Wright; Edinburgh, Oliver & Boyd, 1848.

Contains: King Askew; or, the "Dragon of the shield:" a legendary narrative descriptive of the heroic age of the north, v. 2, pp. 61-128. King Askew in Britain; or, the Danish invasion of Mercia, v. 2, pp. 129-377.

(C. St. A. de). The Sleswig question between Denmark & Germany. With a map. (Translated from the German.) 8°. London, J. Bain, 1873.

(Jón). Viking tales of the North. 1877. See (Rasmus B.).

(Björnstjerne). Norway's constitutional struggle. In "Scribner's monthly." v. 21. 8° New York, Scribner & co., no. 4, Feb. 1881, pp. 603-611


text:
Portal:Self-published works

Works

 * The Stephenson Family (1906) by John Calvin Stephenson

title: Portal:Self-published works


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/4

THE DECISION OF THE FLOWER


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/19

THE

DECISION OF THE FLOWER.

. . . . . ’Tis a history Handed from ages down; a nurse's tale. Southey's Thalaba.

T is a flower, a purple flower Sown by the wind, nursed by the shower, O'er which Love has breathed a power and spell The truth of whispering hope to tell. Lightly the maiden's cheek has prest The pillow of her dreaming rest, Yet a crimson blush is over it spread As her lover's lip had lighted its red. Yes, sleep before her eyes has brought The image of her waking thought,— That one thought hidden from all the world, Like the last sweet hue in the rose-bud curled. The dew is yet on the grass and leaves, The silver veil which the morning weaves. To throw o'er the roses, those brides which the sun Must woo and win ere the day be done.


text:
User talk:Santasa99

Authors from Bosnia and Hercegovina
Are you intending to add works by these authors? Typically, we don't add a page for an author unless there are English translations of their works that are in the public domain. Having a lot of blank Author pages is just a disappointment for people who see the page, click the link, and find there are no works by them. Without any works in English that we can host, these pages will likely be deleted. --EncycloPetey (talk) 15:34, 24 December 2023 (UTC)

 * I am surprised that only authors with works in public domain are included. I was convinced that "wikisource" is supposed to be also a sort of a catalog or a list of works where people are referred to these titles - I never thought it is supposed to be a repository for texts. I also noticed that not only literary authors are included; that lots of these authors are, say, politicians, who had never written fiction, etc. I am not sure, but Aleksandar Hemon is contemporary author and it's unlikely that any of his works are in public domain, however Ivo Andrić, Meša Selimović, Mak Dizdar, Branko Ćopić and Aleksa Šantić are all late 19th and early 20th century authors, with translated works, and with at least some works copyright free. It was my intention to include list and possibly links for these authors, but since there was no Bosnia and Herzegovina categories at all on the project, I thought that we first needed to include few authors to begin with - however, I need to look around and see how these other pages look and what is being include and how. Santasa99 (talk) 16:26, 24 December 2023 (UTC)
 * There were discussions in the proposed deletions page, but I note that Author:Meša Selimović was not mentioned - are you aware of any works by him that could ne included in English wikisource ? -- Beardo (talk) 18:05, 27 January 2024 (UTC)

title: User talk:Santasa99


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/20

She braided back her beautiful hair O'er a brow like Italian marble fair. She is gone to the fields where the corn uprears Like an eastern army its golden spears. The lark flew up as she passed along, And poured from a cloud his sunny song; And many bright insects were on wing, Or lay on the blossoms glistening; And with scarlet poppies around like a bower, Found the maiden her mystic flower. Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell If my lover loves me, and loves me well; So may the fall of the morning dew Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue. Now I number the leaves for my lot, He loves not, he loves me, he loves me not, He loves me,—yes, thou last leaf, yes, I'll pluck thee not, for that last sweet guess! "He loves me," "Y," a dear voice sighed:— And her lover stands by Margaret's side. L. E. L.


text:
Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/440

422

(Grefve Magnus Fredrik Ferdinand). On the moral state and political union of Sweden and Norway, in answer to Mr. S. Laing's statement. [Anon.] 8° London, J: Murray, 1840.

(J: translator). See (Christian Leopold, freiherr von) Travels through Norway and Lapland. 1813.

(Rev. W: Lewery, translator). See (Esaias). Frithiof's saga. 1857.

(I. A.) See. The prose Edda. 1847.— (Paul Henri). Northern antiquities. 1847.

(Sir F: Temple Hamilton Temple, earl of Dufferin). Letters from high latitudes; being some account of a voyage in the schooner yacht "Foam," 850 m. to Iceland, Jan Mayen, & Spitzbergen, in 1856. 11 pl. 1 chart, 3 maps. 8° London, J: Murray, 1857.

——— The same: A yacht voyage [etc.] 12°. Boston, Ticknor & Fields, 1859.

——— The same: A yacht voyage: Letters from high latitudes, [etc.] Illus. ed. 8° New York, Lovell, Adam, Wesson & co. [1873.]

(J:) Among the Goths and Vandals. 8° London, Tinsley, 1870.

(Karl). The ethic ideas of the Edda. In "The University magazine." New series, v. 1. 8° London, Hurst & Blackett, no. 4, April, 1878, pp. 392-398; no. 5, May, 1878, pp. 520-536.

——— The Teutonic tree of existence. In "Fraser's magazine." v. 95, n. s. v. 15. 8°. London, Longmans, no. 85, n. s., Jan. 1877, pp. 101-117.

(Pierre Marie Louis de). Travels through Denmark and Sweden, [etc.] With views from drawings taken on the spot by Dr. C: Parry. 2 v. 13 col'd pl. 4° London, for Wilkie & Robinson, 1810.

(T: G:) The coast of Norway. 1872. See (Elijah) and.

(W. H. J., illustrator). See (Olivia M.) Norway in June. 1882.

(Selma). See of Sweden and Finland. [1876.]

(Lauritz Stephan). Notices on the life and writings of Carl Christian Rafn. 8° Copenhagen, Thiele, 1864.

(Rev. J:) The naturalist in Norway; or, notes on the wild animals, birds, fishes, and plants, of that country. With some account of the principal salmon rivers. 8 col'd pl. 12°. London, L. Reeve & co., 1869.


text: Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/430


text: Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/330


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/89

CHRISTINE.

, cannot change my tone, My lute must breathe what is its own; It is my own heart that has taught My constancy of mournful thought. Tell me not of Spring's sunshine hour, I have but known its blight and shower; And blame me not, that thus I dwell On love's despair, and hope's farewell. I know not what this life may be; I feel but what it is to me. My gift of song, let others claim The golden violets of fame, I would but have it breathe to thee My deep and lone fidelity;


text: Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/329


text:
Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/44

 Rh and the voices calling in distress! I know now. It means, sir, it means”

But as he spoke a great cry came up from the street and burst in at the doors and windows, echoing in a single word:

WAR! WAR! The message of the President is for WAR!

“War!” cried Father Knickerbocker, rising to his full height, stern and majestic and shouting in a stentorian tone that echoed through the great room. “War! War! To your places, every one of you! Be done with your idle luxury! Out with the glare of your lights! Begone you painted women and worthless men! To your places every man of you! To the Battery! Man the guns! Stand to it, every one of you for the defence of America—for our New York, New York”

Then, with the sound “New York, New York” still echoing in my ears I woke up. The vision of my dream was gone. I was still on the seat of the car where I had dozed asleep, the book upon my knee. The train had arrived at the depot and the porters were calling into the doorway of the car: “New York! New York!”

All about me was the stir and hubbub of the great depot. But loud over all it was heard the call of the newsboys crying “WAR!

title: Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/44


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/90

My unrequited tenderness Living on its own sweet excess. Oh! I have blushed to hear my song Borne on the tide of praise along: But deem not, dear one, only praise The colour on my cheek could raise; I blushed to think that thou might'st hear My song of passion's timid fear; That with the words a thought might steal Of all I felt, of all I feel.

 * On to my tale: it tells of one

Who loved not more than I have done: That deep and lonely faith which bears With chance, and change, and lapse of years; Turns like the floweret to the sun, Content with being shone upon; Although its gift of light and air The meanest with itself may share.

 * The moon hath shed her gentlest light

On the Garonne's blue wave to-night, No wind disturbs, no ripple jars The mirror, over which the stars Linger like beauties. O'er the tide, But noiseless, all the white sails glide. Around are the green hills, where cling The Autumn's purple gathering;


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/75

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/75


text:
Page:Poems Allen.djvu/76

64

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/76


text:
Page:Everywoman's World, Volume 7, Number 7.djvu/31

JULY 1917

cake, ma'am, and the dozen doughnuts you ordered for the kitchen since she came home," I heard the maid saying. This was a vile slander, I had only eaten seven.

It seemed, for a while after I went to the table, as though there might be going to be some unpleasantness. That there was not was due solely to the fact that I remembered what Miss de Villbiss bad said about keeping your soul calm amid annoyances. And after dinner I had my reward. We all went into the library and Elizabeth grabbed up the mail. After handing Mother and Dad and Kit their letters and taking nearly all the rest herself, Elizabeth threw one miserable envelope back on the table remarking, casually:

"There's a letter for you, Barbie. Looks like an invitation."

ITH a dignity that I hoped would rebuke Elizabeth for her rudeness to me, I said sweetly, "Thank you, Elizabeth dear," and picked up the letter. It was an invitation, and the kind of invitation I had never received before, being actually engraved on a big, square card. It said that Miss Field was giving a the dansant for Eugenia Wiggers, Al's sister, at the Columns, and I was invited. I do not usually associate with Eugenia. I cannot afford to because she is so much younger, being only fifteen. But this was different. Doubtless Al would be there and all of our crowd. I could scarcely believe my senses. It seemed impossible that anything so wonderful as a the dansant at the Columns was happening to me. And then I realized that it was the work of the Infant Tenderness. I had not expected any answer to my meditations so soon, but there it was—the beginning of my social career. It was Mother who brought me back from my thoughts.

"Haven't you some lessons to-night, Barbie?" she asked, pleasantly—too pleasantly. I knew immediately that for some reason Mother wanted to get me out of the room. I immediately decided not to go if I could possibly help it.

"Not to-night," I said. 1 intended, on going to bed, to sink myself in the Infant Tenderness and ask that I know my lessons without studying them.

When Mother found she had no excuse for sending me off up-stairs she handed the letter she had been reading to Dad, making signs for him to look at it and let her know by a silent motion of the head what he thought about it. But for once Dad failed her, and fortunate for me that he did.

"What does Barbie say about this?" he inquired, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.

"I haven't been told about it yet," I returned coldly and distinctly. Mother was displeased and looked at Dad, meaningly. "If it is anything that concerns me I must insist on being told," I added.

"I suppose you will have to know now," Mother admitted, ungraciously.

"What does make that child so disagreeable?" Kit put in with feeling, although it was not I who was being disagreeable.

But Dad simply began reading the letter. It was from my Aunt Barbara Vane—the one I'm named after. Aunt Barbara was coming to spend the winter with us. She had been born and brought up in our city, but she had spent most of her life in foreign parts of the world. Now she wanted a winter at home with her family because in the spring she was going to be married and go to China with her husband, who was a civil engineer and building a railroad or a canal or something. She hoped Mr. Vincent could arrange to come on for a week while she was here so we could see him, for there was no telling when they would come back, And then came the interesting part. She had always intended doing something for me when I came out, because I was her namesake, she said. Of course she realized that I was too young to come out this winter, but under the circumstances, wouldn't Mother let her give me a series of little parties such as were suitable for juniors, starting, perhaps, with something a little more elaborate—a dinner dance, say. It could be understood that it was not a coming-out party.

"Why, the idea!" Kit gasped. Fortunate for me that Kit isn't my mother!

"I don't know,” Mother meditated, "whether it is wise or not."

Father turned to me. "What do you say, Kiddie?"

HAD sunk down in a chair and was unconsciously sitting with my hands clasped in the attitude of meditation recommended by Miss de Villbiss. I felt almost stunned. The way the Infant Tenderness was working things made me fairly tremble with awe.

"Barbie, what's the matter?: I heard Father say from a great distance. "The child is fairly pale."

"Oh!" I managed at last. "Oh! A the dansant at the Columns and now this! In one evening! It is too much!"

Dad looked at Mother with a air.

"A the dansant at the Columns?" Mother questioned. "What do you mean?"

I handed her the invitation I had just received. "Miss Field!" Mother exclaimed. "Miss Field of Grandin Road! Kit and Elizabeth, a the dansant for Eugenia Wiggers! Why didn't you show this to me before, Barbie? It puts a new complexion on the matter. If Miss Field gives a party for Eugenia I don't see why your Aunt Barbara— The dinner dance, anyway. We can decide about the others later."

When my Aunt Barbara came she brought with her another proof of what the Infant Tenderness could do. It was a sealskin coat for me. When I looked at that coat I felt as though I were about to burst into pieces, I had never dreamed in my wildest moments that I should ever really possess anything like it. It had natural lynx collar and cuffs, and it lined with rose-coloured brocade. I just gave one look and folded the lovely thing in my arms while the tears ran unheeded down my cheeks. It was almost the holiest moment in my life.

"There, there!" said Aunt Barbara, and even Mother seemed moved, for she did not tell me it was too old or even remind me that I should be a happy, grateful girl.

"You must wear it for the first time to Miss Field's tea," was all she remarked,

I nodded dumbly. My mind was busy figuring out what kind of a dress would be wonderful enough to go with it. Mother expected me to wear my white tulle over green, which was considered by the family a very daring dress for me, and I did not undeceive her. But I knew differently. The Infant Tenderness would never allow a thing like that. But just what I should wear I only found out two days before the party. Aunt Barbara and I had gone down-town to order the invitations for my dinner and to buy place-cards and inquire about flowers and food and other luscious things. Aunt Barbara stopped for a minute at Glidden's to ask about a suit for herself, and there we saw it—my party frock, I mean.

Of course it was pink. It was covered with a frosty overdress of gauze embroidered in silver lilies. But I can't describe it for whenever I think of that frock which is now no more—

"Oh, Aunt Barbara!"

Aunt Barbara looked up. "What is it, dear?"

“Oh! That pink dress!"

Aunt Barbara went over to where it was standing on a form. "It is a sweet thing," she agreed. "Elizabeth would look like a wild rose in it."

I gave a start and a great shudder. Elizabeth! Elizabeth has fair hair, and every one knows that pink is a brunette's colour. I could just see my dark head poised above it daintily, but—Elizabeth!

UNT Barhara glanced at me. "It's too old for you, Barbie, dear; we'll find something prettier. You wouldn't like that dress." She used the mollifying tone of voice people sometimes do use to me and that always makes me perfectly furious.

"I may never be able to have it, Aunt Barbara," I corrected firmly and with great dignity, "but that does not mean that I do not know what I want. I am sixteen and a women of the world, and I know that if it were my last earthly words I should say I want that dress."

Aunt Barbara seemed amused. I despise people when they are amused at me. It is the lowest form of wit. So I paid no more attention to Aunt Barbara. While she turned back to her suit I fairly hurled myself into the depths of the Gracious Silence. I felt as though this were the test. If It denied me that dress O should have no more use for the Infant Tenderness. I resolved to have faith that I should have that dress somehow before the party. So when Aunt Barbara finished and suggested that we go to the misses' department and see if there wasn't something I liked, I said "No, I had a lovely dress for the party, one I'd never worn and I was crazy about it."

And, sure enough, just as I came home from school the next afternoon Glidden's wagon was stopping in front of our house and the boy was running in with a suit-box. I signed for it without his having to ring, for It was marked "Miss Barbara Vane." I knew at once what it was. Fortunately everybody had gone out somewhere, and I carried the box to my room unmolested. I was glad that not even Delphine saw me. I have often had the experience of having to act as though I had done something wrong when I am really innocent. I was in that position now. So I hung the pink frock under my white tulle in the back of my closet, and thought of how, on the next day, I should burst into society.

All this time I have not mentioned the third request I had made of the Infant Tenderness—being engaged. This is not because nothing had happened, but because it is a painful subject. However, I intend to tell all, so that my posterities will be warned by my misfortunes and not be too trusting in a world where there is no justice.

When two weeks had gone by and I still saw no indications that I was engaged. I began to wonder what was the matter. It finally came over me that I was not acting as though I were engaged—I wasn't showing my faith. So the first thing I did was to tell Fidenia Jacocks—in confidence. Fidenia is like most women. If you just tell her something she is likely to forget it, but if you impress on her that not under any circumstances must any one else know, it is naturally the first thing she thinks of when she sees anybody. Within the short of one day it was known all over the school that I was engaged, and I was an object of profound veneration and awe.

Now I leave it to (Continued on next page.)

LONG the dark country road this summer, it will show you the ruts and snares waiting to

trip you; reveal that weird, moving

shape (only a swaying branch), that uncannysound (only acreaking gate).

And when something goes wrong with your motor, bring the trouble to light by bringing the light to the trouble. That is one of the many advantages of this powerful, portable electric light—you can use it any- where.

An Eveready DAYLO will help in many ways to make your vacation pleasanter— and safer too.

Tt’'s the one light you can always depend upon, because ed with a genuine Eveready TUN CN battery and tveready MAZDA lamp assuring reli- ability, economy and long life.

Eveready DAYLO’S are made in 77 styles, at prices from 8Se up, and sold by the better

electrical, hardware, drug, sporting goods and stationery stores everywhere.

Canadian National Carbon Co.,

Limited Toronto - Ontario

Dru: Dyes id by Druggists, Grocers tnd Stoces everywhere

Write now for Free Booklet “The Ari of Home Dyeing.” Wm. Edge & Sons, Limited 25 Front St: East - Toronto, Ont.

PAGE 29

when danger lurks under cover of darkness

when a swollen | stream has carried the footbridge away.

when a tire “blows” or something goes wrong with the j motor |

when a storm breaks andthe guy-ropesof | your tent must be loosened

when you've got to get the peroxide— quick!

when someone stops you ona lonely road

whenever youneed a safe, dependable, powerful, portable | electric light — in- doors and out--you need an Eveready DAYLO,

UTDOORS calls on you to emulate its bright colour- in your Home. Get the Drummer in (all the stores are selling him in handy packets) and set him to work with his magic colour-trick on all the clothes and household draperies you can find,

DRUMMER DYES

“So Easy to Use.""

Can be obtained in any colour— and you can mix hundreds of pleas- ing Art Shades yourself at will. Try Drummers on the following: Blouses Loose Covers Cushion Corers Table Covers Blinds Chintaes Tapeatrien Hate, ete.

Duchess tote Feathers Nona

‘Ties Stockings Pmatoces

Overaiia ‘Curtains

HORLICK’S Malted Milk for Infants

A safe milk diet, better than cow’s milk alone. Contains rich milk and malted grain extract.

Co. (Ine. ) 52 Adelaide St., Detrait, Mich,


text:
Payne v. Arkansas/Dissent Burton

MR. JUSTICE BURTON, on this record, would accept the conclusion of the state court and jury that petitioner's confession was voluntary. Therefore, he would affirm the judgment rendered. See his dissent in Moore v. Michigan, 355 U.S. 155, 165.

title: Payne v. Arkansas/Dissent Burton


text: Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/64


text: Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/65


text:
Page:Political History of Ancient India, from the accession of Parikshit to the extinction of the Gupta dynasty.pdf/12

xii


text:
Page:Poems Allen.djvu/77

Rh

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/77


text: Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/66


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/78

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/78


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/79

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/79


text: Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/67


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/80

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/80


text:
Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/17

, and (2) whether the work is published or unpublished, with the scope for fair use involving unpublished works being considerably narrower.’ ” Blanch, 467 F.3d at 256 (quoting 2 Howard B. Abrams, The Law of Copyright, § 15:52 (2006)).

Here, there is no dispute that Cariou’s work is creative and published. Accordingly, this factor weighs against a fair use determination. However, just as with the commercial character of Prince’s work, this factor “may be of limited usefulness where,” as here, “the creative work of art is being used for a transformative purpose.” Bill Graham Archives v. Dorling Kindersley Ltd., 448 F.3d 605, 612 (2d Cir.2006).

The final factor that we consider in our fair use inquiry is “the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole.” 17. U.S.C. § 107(3). We ask “whether the quantity and value of the materials used[ ] are reasonable in relation to the purpose of the copying.” Blanch, 467 F.3d at 257 (quotation marks omitted). In other words, we consider the proportion of the original work used, and not how much of the secondary work comprises the original.

Many of Prince’s works use Cariou’s photographs, in particular the portrait of the dreadlocked Rastafarian at page 118 of Yes Rasta, the Rastafarian on a burro at pages 83 to 84, and the dreadlocked and bearded Rastafarian at page 108, in whole or substantial part. In some works, such as Charlie Company, Prince did not alter the source photograph very much at all. In others, such as Djuana Barnes, Natalie Barney, Renee Vivien and Romaine Brooks take over the Guanahani, the entire source photograph is used but is also heavily obscured and altered to the point that Cariou’s original is barely recognizable. Although “[n]either our court nor any of our sister circuits has ever ruled that the copying of an entire work favors fair use[,] … courts have concluded that such copying does not necessarily weigh against fair use because copying the entirety of a work is sometimes necessary to make a fair use of the image.” Bill Graham, 448 F.3d at 613. “[T]he third-factor inquiry must take into account that the extent of permissible copying varies with the purpose and character of the use.” Id. (internal quotation marks omitted).

The district court determined that Prince’s “taking was substantially greater than necessary.” Cariou, 784 F.Supp.2d at 352. We are not clear as to how the district court could arrive at such a conclusion. In any event, the law does not require that the secondary artist may take no more than is necessary. See Campbell, 510 U.S. at 588, 114 S.Ct. 1164; Leibovitz, 137 F.3d at 114. We consider not only the quantity of the materials taken but also “their quality and importance” to the original work. Campbell, 510 U.S. at 587, 114 S.Ct. 1164. The secondary use “must be [permitted] to ‘conjure up’ at least enough of the original” to fulfill its transformative purpose. Id. at 588, 114 S.Ct. 1164 (emphasis added); Leibovitz, 137 F.3d at 114. Prince used key portions of certain of Cariou’s photographs. In doing that, however, we determine that in twenty-five of his artworks, Prince transformed those photographs into something new and different and, as a result, this factor weighs heavily in Prince’s favor.

As indicated above, there are five artworks that, upon our review, present closer questions. Specifically, Graduation, Meditation, Canal Zone (2008), Canal Zone (2007), and Charlie Company do not sufficiently differ from the photographs of Cariou’s that they incorporate for us confidently to make a determination about their

title: Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/17


text:
Page:Poems Allen.djvu/82

70

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/82


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/81

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/81


text:
Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/18

 transformative nature as a matter of law. Although the minimal alterations that Prince made in those instances moved the work in a different direction from Cariou’s classical portraiture and landscape photos, we can not say with certainty at this point whether those artworks present a “new expression, meaning, or message.” Campbell, 510 U.S. at 579, 114 S.Ct. 1164.

Certainly, there are key differences in those artworks compared to the photographs they incorporate. Graduation, for instance, is tinted blue, and the jungle background is in softer focus than in Cariou’s original. Lozenges painted over the subject’s eyes and mouth—an alteration that appears frequently throughout the Canal Zone artworks—make the subject appear anonymous, rather than as the strong individual who appears in the original. Along with the enlarged hands and electric guitar that Prince pasted onto his canvas, those alterations create the impression that the subject is not quite human. Cariou’s photograph, on the other hand, presents a human being in his natural habitat, looking intently ahead. Where the photograph presents someone comfortably at home in nature, Graduation combines divergent elements to create a sense of discomfort. However, we cannot say for sure whether Graduation constitutes a fair use or whether Prince has transformed Cariou’s work enough to render it transformative.

We have the same concerns with Meditation, Canal Zone (2007), Canal Zone (2008), and Charlie Company. Each of those artworks differs from, but is still similar in key aesthetic ways, to Cariou’s photographs. In Meditation, Prince again added lozenges and a guitar to the same photograph that he incorporated into Graduation, this time cutting the subject out of his background, switching the direction he is facing, and taping that image onto a blank canvas. In Canal Zone (2007), Prince created a gridded collage using 31 different photographs of Cariou’s, many of them in whole or significant part, with alterations of some of those photographs limited to lozenges or cartoonish appendages painted or drawn on. Canal Zone (2008) incorporates six photographs of Cariou’s in whole or in part, including the same subject as Meditation and Graduation. Prince placed the subject, with lozenges and guitar, on a background comprising components of various landscape photographs, taped together. The cumulative effect is of the subject in a habitat replete with lush greenery, not dissimilar from many of Cariou’s Yes Rasta photographs. And Charlie Company prominently displays four copies of Cariou’s photograph of a Rastafarian riding a donkey, substantially unaltered, as well as two copies of a seated nude woman with lozenges covering all six faces. Like the other works just discussed, Charlie Company is aesthetically similar to Cariou’s original work because it maintains the pastoral background and individual focal point of the original photograph—in this case, the man on the burro. While the lozenges, repetition of the images, and addition of the nude female unarguably change the tenor of the piece, it is unclear whether these alterations amount to a sufficient transformation of the original work of art such that the new work is transformative.

We believe the district court is best situated to determine, in the first instance, whether such relatively minimal alterations render Graduation, Meditation, Canal Zone (2007), Canal Zone (2008), and Charlie Company fair uses (including whether the artworks are transformative) or whether any impermissibly infringes on Cariou’s copyrights in his original photographs. We remand for that determination.

title: Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/18


text:
Page:Everywoman's World, Volume 7, Number 7.djvu/13

 JULY 1917 "Are you?” she said, and might have added: "I have laid my life at thy feet; do as it please thee with it, for what shall please thee is sweet." But neither then nor ever was she able to put into words to him all the romance and wonder he meant to her. No doubt they would be married; she had not really thought of that, although she had often contemplated her own possible marriage before meeting him. One had to be born; one had to die; one had to be married, also; these were the inevitable triology. And since marriage was the only one of the three in which the principal actor had any say, it lent itself generously to speculation. Very erratic speculation. But the fact is that romantic love does not trouble about marriage. It can feed on moonlight, nourish itself on sonnets; so to Hope the idea of marrying Tony was quite by the way. But, of course, if he said so, they would be married—and, being married, matters would be in no whit altered.

After he had gone, however, she treasured the words, as a guarantee of the permanence of her happiness. Him, she had never doubted as loving her always, but an instinct as old as time and the changing seasons had warned her that this wonder would not last. Not any more does one expect spring to remain after its appointed period. Something, somehow, would come between them, and leave her only a memory. To this absurd tangle of "forever" and "but a little while" Tony had brought the word marriage like a sword, and the knot was cut cleanly. He had spoken; if there were any untoward circumstance, he would overcome it. He would overawe the face of Fate.

A singular quiet fell on her restless spirit. Mary noticed she no longer complained of the stagnation of life, though on the surface it was all the same. At hazard, Mary guessed correctly; being in love was itself an adventure, and all-absorbing. The impatience of her moments of waiting for Tony was not her old tugging at the leash. She even withdrew as far as possible what tentative feelers she had thrown out before. With Ned she was indifferent and distrait to the point of rudeness. He tried to sulk. She did not even notice, and he returned, after telling Lisbeth and Mary in strict confidence that she was a disagreeable little beast and that only his high regard for them made him tolerate her. She had always been high-handed with Allen Kirby, but Allen's philosophy permitted him to enjoy what he could get. He had never made any claims. He was always ready, if she had nothing better to do. And since she liked him very well, and he had accepted with equanimity his first tacit definition of their relations, she did not feel that they infringed on Tony's possession of all that was herself.

But with Edgerton she was vaguely troubled, and seemed to be in a perpetual retreat. He felt her slipping away from him, half surmised the truth, but could put no name to the cause. Of her life he knew nothing except what she told him herself. And she had the straightforward reticence of the truthful. Clumsily he tried to hold her, accepting each rebuff with a dogged one that made her feel pitiful toward him. At the same time she was at a loss to understand what he wanted. He had so much already.

NCE she voiced the question to Mary. Edgerton had been to see her. He came but the once. The last time he had been in town she had put him off prettily, because she had an engagement with Tony. Her rudeness smote her; in answer to a note Mary tossed her, she had telephoned, told him to call. He had been strangely unwilling, though plainly he wanted to see her. But he came.

What she remembered most was the way his eyes followed her about the room, as if photographing every trivial gesture she made. When she gave him her hand he tried to take here in his arms, and she said "No, no" and avoided him. Afterward, just as the first time, she shyly gave him a cheek to kiss, as an amende. But his unease perplexed her.

"What is it?" she asked. "Aren't you comfortable? I'm going to make some coffee." It seemed he did not want coffee, and she sat pondering him. "You're different," was all she could make of it.

"No, you are," he returned bluntly, "Well, I might have known it would come. I say—"

"Yes?"

"If—if anything goes wrong— If I can help you, let me know." And he was for going. "Oh, why?" she said gently. "It's early." She held him by the lapel of his coat, looking up at him engagingly, and he would have kissed her again.

But he knew too well she had nothing for him. And after all, with a heavy heart he knew he had nothing for her.

"No, I must. I've got some things to see to—Emily—my daughter— is coming up. I want you to meet her."

"I should like to," said Hope bravely, concealing her horror and alarm at the idea of meeting a strange girl. There was a certain incredibility, too, about his having a grown daughter. Hope had been bred to the old order. A man married was married, and that was the end of him. Edgerton appearing always alone, had somehow in her mind extricated himself from that fixed position, and now it seemed she must replace him, and he really would not quite fit. He would not fit anywhere, that was the trouble. A man of his age— She had dissociated him from all that, his age, his circumstances, his very physical appearance, at last: she no longer felt inclined to giggle secretly at the spectacle of his grey hairs abasing themselves before her triumphant youth: and she would have to laboriously recreate him in her mind. Actually, she never did: she continued to feel him her equal; her rejection of him became a matter of personal choice, not of any outward disparity. It would have comforted him to know that, strangely. But he never did know it, being secretly modest.

After he had gone, she interrogated Mary, as she had been wont to question Agnes.

"He must be worried about something," she said sagely, interrupting Mary's peaceful scribbling in the bedroom. "He seemed to be on pins and needles."

"It was me," said Mary, disregarding syntax, and further replied to Hope's stare. "He wondered where I might be; he feels rather silly before me. Did he ask?"

"No. Was that it?"

Mary nodded, smiling. "Certainly. He could feel my eye gimleting through the keyhole. Wicked child, why don't you let that poor man alone?"

"I don't do anything to him," said Hope indignantly.

"Horrid little flirt,” said Mary calmly.

"I am not!"

"No? What then do you want with all those men?" Mary's voice, sweetly lazy and receptive, wooed to confidence.

"Only four," Hope protested. "I don't flirt with them. I"—she paused a long time. "Maybe you can understand. It's like this—there are so many things I'd like to do and see and feel, all at once; I should like to grow in every direction. I wish the world were an orange and I could eat it—"

"An apple, you mean," murmured Mary, "Well?"

"When I hear of a strange country, I long to be there immediately;" Hope pursued resolutely. "To read of some new discovery makes me wish I were at the inventor's elbow; to hear of a big adventure fills me with an awful longing to have experienced it. And I'd like to be a man—but I'd like to be a woman, too. Of course I simply can't have any of those things. But Ned and Allen and Con Edgerton and—all of them—" she hesitated obviously over Tony Yorke’s name—"they're my foreign countries, my other lives. I explore them and watch them; I take some of their lives from them. Because they let me see themselves. So do you; maybe Lisbeth does; but no one else. People in a crowd aren't interesting. A crowd brings out points of resemblance; in extreme cases it turns into one creature, a mob! But that wasn't what I started to say, was it?"

"No," said Mary. "Never mind, I understand. Yes 'But he who lives more lives than one, more deaths than one must die,'"

"I've died a million times here in the last two years," retorted Hope. "I think I'm getting used to it now."

"You're not such a fidget,” agreed Mary. "But is that it? Is—it—?"

There was no answer.

"Aren't you engaged to Tony Yorke?"

Hope looked up quickly, her eyes round with surprise a defensive blankness clouding them.

"Why do you ask that?" she parried.

"Because I have no manners," Mary smiled. "Now, aren't you?" But her real reason she could not tell.

"Yes," said Hope, rosily shamefaced and a little proud. "But I'll never forgive you if you tell any one. You won't, will you?"

"Not unless you say I may," Mary hesitated. "But—you ought to announce it. Did—did Tony ask you not to?"

"No, of course not," said Hope, placidly astonished. "We never spoke of it. Who cares, anyway? No one would be interested, except maybe you and Lisbeth. And I don't want to be served up with the sandwiches at every afternoon tea from now till next year. If you tell I'll hate you!"

"As you say," agreed Mary, secretly resolved to alter that decision. "When will you be married?"

"Oh, I don’t know. Sometime. As soon as we save enough money," Hope laughed happily.

"It will be never," said Mary to herself. "I wonder if I shall be able to help her at all?" But aloud she said: "I forgot to say the usual thing, my dear. But you know I hope you find the magpie's nest."

"What magpie's nest?" enquired Hope, round-eyed again,

"A facon de parler, dear; the French say happiness is to be found in a magpie's nest. Because the magpie always builds out of reach!"

Hope smiled to herself, with deep assurance.

"But I forgot to ask you," she said, "what does Mr. Edgerton want?"

Mary, in silent despair, refused to answer.

OSSIP that builds up slowly, like accretions to a coral reef, is more dangerous and difficult than a rumour that runs like sudden flame in dry grass. But the other remains, fetters its hapless object; unless it concerns one of unusual mental and spiritual stature, who can calmly rise clear, and use it as a footing. And that takes time.

These tiny, ever-increasing tributes of idleness and malice Mary dreaded for Hope, saw them piling about her, and was helpless. Warn her? It would not help. The girl might struggle to amend, but wanted experience to perceive her error. She would be simply overwhelmed, frightened, and sickened of the unprovoked baseness, it would seem to show her, in human nature. She had never injured any one; lacking the flavour of reprisal, the attack would seem merely wanton. Hope still had that terrible sense of justice discernible in young and unhappily inarticulate children. She would see herself punished for a fault uncommitted. She would not know how to recover herself and strike back, and the wound would be poisoned thereby.

No, there was nothing to be done. And perhaps luck would incline the other way; the situation was so singularly mixed now, no one could see the end. If there was such a thing as fool's luck—well, Hope deserved it. She was such an idiot—and she juggled her own fortunes as carelessly as though they were ivory instead of crystal.

Emily Edgerton's visit, though delayed, had materialized. She was much lunched and refreshed with vast quantities of tea by the local ladies, but Hope had met her first. Emily was just past eighteen, but tall and well-grown, attractive with health and good nature and her father's millions. She was brown, and rather pretty; brown eyes, brown hair, a few brown freckles, and a figure rounded from tennis and dancing. She was armed point de vise with that knowledge of security which is the portion of daughters of the rich. Hope wondered and envied, not perceiving the source. Mary understood, and wished Hope might have a few years of the same ease, to put her on her feet. This was at tea, and they were planning some way to pass the evening without boredom—a difficult thing in that city. Nothing offered but a second-rate theatrical performance; it would undoubtedly be second-rate, since none others came so far from the centres of civilization. But Edgerton and Emily professed themselves quite willing to take what chance there might be of a smile, and while he was thinking whom he might ask to complete the party—"I'd feel altogether too greedy with three pretty women to myself," he thought—Tony Yorke was observed on the verandah. So he was brought in, like the wedding guests who were gathered in from the hedges and byways; and the party was declared filled, for their box could not possibly hold more than five.

O they sat very splendidly in the stage box; there were only four boxes and they were all stage boxes. One could not see all that went on on the stage, but Mary said the audience was much more amusing anyway. From the other side of the house, Mrs. Shane nodded to Mary, scrutinized Hope through an opera glass, and smiled at Tony.

Tony and Mary tossed the ball between them at first. She knew him, heart and soul, reading him, perhaps, through another she had once known. But she had grown clever now; so that he could not guess how clever she was. "A silly muddle," she was saying to herself before the evening was well begun., looking at Hope, slim and shrinking in her black gown, with drooped lids, so that Mary's eyes outshone her, and the rose in Emily Edgerton's cheek. With a little pang at heart Mary saw that Edgerton still turned to her. After all, he was twice the man Tony was; it had never been her surface that had caught him. For all his simplicity, he phrased himself very neatly, apropos of what Mary did not catch.

"I can see through a ladder when there’s a lantern on the other side."

"Well, Daddy, I always told you I wasn't a ladder,"" remarked Emily cheerfully, and pinched his arm. That was about the depth of the conversation.

"Aren't you?" murmured Hope idiotically, and they laughed until Mrs, Shane heard them.

"Are you?" asked Tony very seriously, addressing Hope.

She rallied. “Yes, I am," she declared. "Any one can see me—or put a foot on me." Her eyes acknowledged that he, at least, could.

"Your Vocation," said Mary, "is evidently marriage."

"Marriage isn't a vocation," returned Hope lightly, swimming on the tide of her own frivolity, "it's an accident. And accidents never happen to me; I'm always on the verge of them, right under the chariot wheels you may say, but some rude person always rescues me." She avoided Tony's glance as she spoke. Another woman would have looked at him with coquettish denial of her words. Mary saw Hope's attitude in advance; what hurt and shocked her despite herself was that Tony, too, looked deliberately preoccupied and gay, Ah, he should have been possessive, given himself away. He left his rightful part to Edgerton—we accepted it. It was a muddle, indeed.

"Oh you'll marry," said Edgerton, rather gloomily. She shook her head, contradicting, with a little lift of her eyelashes at him. "Why do you think so?" But he did not seem able to say. Tony had fallen into a low-toned conversation with Emily Edgerton; Mary, smiling dreamily out over the orchestra, felt like an exceedingly exclusive audience. Tony had got Emily's fan, and they retreated behind it, and Emily dimpled and smiled—she was really rather charming, and Tony's eyes had not forgotten their old trick. "The next day?" Mary heard him ask. "Perhaps," said Emily. "Shall we all go?" she looked at the others, 'If you like," said Tony, gallantly.

Well, the evening was over. In the lobby, Mrs. Shane captured them, pressed them to supper, all of them. It was Edgerton who did not want to go, and it was Mary who, having learned to read his long primer print very easily in her elbow-to-elbow working hours with him, made their excuses. It was Mary, too, who heard Tony promising that he might be there later. She grimaced, hiding it under her hood. Was a man so avid of the moment's distraction worth luring? But that was for Hope to settle, not her,

"We'll get enough of the Shanes to-morrow," said Edgerton bluntly to Mary. "We've got to dine with them." Mary nodded. Shane was involved in Edgerton's latest deal, for the power rights on the Kenatchee Falls.

Dine they did, and Tony was at that dinner too, He had been of the theatre party by accident; he was always at Mrs. Shane's dinners, and thereafter, because of the sheep instinct in people, he was everywhere asked where Emily Edgerton was asked, which was everywhere, merely because people knew of the two initial occasions.

If he had wished just such a development in the first Instance, it was by no means on account of Emily herself. He needed the financial backing of Edgerton; he had staked all his own money, and some he had got from his mother, not an enormous sum, on the Kenatchee Falls deal, and without Edgerton's help, he might just as well have set it sailing down the Bow River in paper boats. Shane's backing could do no more than get him a hearing and give him a little local prestige, for Shane, though growing rich as a small city counts riches, had many irons in the fire and needed all his loose capital for himself. But a word, a scratch of the pen, from Edgerton would unlock the vaults of any of the powerful banks; he could command money enough to dam the Bow with silver if he chose. He had more than money; he had credit, he was a man who never lost. By sheer tenacity, the ability to play a waiting game, Edgerton had recouped himself a dozen times in deals where one less long-sighted, would have given up and admitted defeat. And there were not many men in the North-West of whom so much could be said. Boom times do not breed shrewdness. Edgerton had not floated in on the tide of any boom; he had made his start a dollar at a time, and never forgot what a dollar cost in actual effort. He was the one man Tony Yorke wanted.

But it had to be soon. The franchise was already granted, passed but a few weeks before by a gratified Assembly at Edmonton. A provincial election impended within another twelvemonth, with a threat of an over-turned Government. The fear of that undesirable consummation had forced even the secret shareholders of the company, who sat in the Assembly, to assent to an obnoxious rider to the Bill calling for certain work upon the power plant to be completed within the year—expensive work There were ways, certainly, to obtain a postponement, but they were also somewhat expensive. would be doubly so with a new provincial cabinet, hungry from enforced abstinence, to appease.

"With me," Shane told Tony frankly, "it's a gamble; and I'll have to pass up the next raise. I've reached my limit. But if we can get Edgerton—why, we'll just be taking over the bank, that's all. We'll have the percentage on our side. I hope we can get him. But he's a singed cat for caution. And it's no use crowding him." That was very well for Shane; he played within his means. But Tony had put all he had in the pot; he had to win.

ENNINGTON YORKE (that was his full name, though he had nearly forgotten it himself) had begun his financial education at the wrong end; he had learned how to spend money before he knew anything about making it. In four dizzy years at college he had dispersed the nucleus of a comfortable fortune. Thereafter he had been in the position of the Chinaman who went tobogganing, as he explained once to Hope: "Whizz-z-z—go down like hellee—walk back six miles!" All his personal assets here were valueless; connections, charm, social polish, he found quite useless in a place where the social order was just emerging from a pastoral democracy. True, he had friends; and from them he got friendship of a sort—just what he gave, in fact, which was just what he did not need. At home he could, if he had chosen to be a little patient, have come into his own, but he had no patience, and the West looked to him like an industrial faro game, where everything might be won on a single turn of the wheel—and nothing lost, if one had nothing to lose.

He had, certainly, got Shane's countenance and support. But Mrs, Shane was an able woman! She was bored a good deal; she and Tony had in common a million trifles and a large Selfishness. Shane liked Tony, too, but if Cora had disliked him, she would have seen to it that her husband shared her feelings. As it was, Tony told her all his affairs, or at least, all his financial affairs, and she sympathized with him. Nothing is easier, when one docs not have to suffer through those affairs, She had even tried to help him with Edgerton; it was one of her notable failures, and it stung, rather. She did not forget it, though she had the wit to leaye alone the further conduct of the business end of matters.

Bred to the current (Continued on page 26)


text: User:SnowyCinema/P/When You Write a Letter


text:
Page:Political History of Ancient India, from the accession of Parikshit to the extinction of the Gupta dynasty.pdf/13

Appendix

Bibliographical Index

General Index


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/91

The various grapes, some like the stone On which an Indian sky has shone, And others like the amber streak Pale on the fading twilight's cheek; And others glistening and green, As yet by summer suns unseen. And where the soft grass spreads, just meet For the light tread of maiden's feet, And where the chesnut's trunk seems made For the musician's seat and shade,— Are peasants dancing: one alone Has stolen from the group, unknown, To watch the hunter prince pass by: Alas ! love's fond idolatry! She sat down by the cypress tree, And well it might her shadow be, With its dark leaves, and lonely weeping, As if some lovelorn secret keeping. Just there the thicker boughs gave way, And dale, wood, heath, before her lay; It came at last, the gallant train, And hound, hawk, horseman, swept the plain. There rode the leader of the band, His hooded falcon on his hand; Which held the broidered rein beside, Curbing his foam-white courser's pride; And carelessly on one side flung The drooping heron feathers hung


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/92

Of the light cap, while the soft air Ruffled the curls of raven hair, And parted them enough to show The forehead's height of mountain snow. But he has left his train behind,— A lover's step is on the wind;— And he is by the maiden's side, Whose eye is drooped, as if to hide How joy has lighted it; she lent Like one of those sweet visions sent To the young bard, when tones that weep From leaf to flower have lulled his sleep. In that Italian gallery, where The painter and the sculptor share Their gift of beauty, stands a form Just like hers, only not so warm With blushes, but the same soft eye Seeking the ground;—just such a sigh Upon the parted lips;—so prest The small hands on the throbbing breast. The same bowed attitude, so meek! Oh, misery, that love should seek A temple made so pure, so fair, To leave his wreck and ruin there! ", my own ;"—she felt The words upon her flushed cheek melt: She met his radiant eyes—to-night Surely some cloud is on their light;—


text:
Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/19

In addition to its conclusion that Prince is liable for infringing on Cariou’s copyrights, the district court determined that the Gagosian defendants are liable as vicarious and contributory infringers. Cariou, 784 F.Supp.2d at 354. With regard to the twenty-five of Prince’s artworks, which, as we have held, do not infringe on Cariou’s copyrights, neither Lawrence Gagosian nor the Gallery may be liable as a vicarious or contributory infringer. See ''Faulkner v. Nat’l Geographic Enters. Inc.'', 409 F.3d 26, 40 (2d Cir.2005). If the district court concludes on remand that Prince is liable as a direct infringer with regard to any of the remaining five works, the district court should determine whether the Gagosian defendants should be held liable, directly or secondarily, as a consequence of their actions with regard to those works. See Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C, § 106(1), (2), (3), (5).

For the reasons discussed, we hold that all except five (Graduation, Meditation, Canal Zone (2007), Canal Zone (2008), and Charlie Company ) of Prince’s artworks make fair use of Cariou’s photographs. We express no view as to whether the five are also entitled to a fair use defense. We REMAND with respect to those five so that the district court, applying the proper standard, can determine in the first instance whether any of them infringes on Cariou’s copyrights or whether Prince is entitled to a fair use defense with regard to those artworks as well. The judgment of the district court is REVERSED in part and VACATED in part. The case is REMANDED for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.

WALLACE, J., Senior Circuit Judge, concurring in part and dissenting in part:

I agree with the bulk of the majority decision as to the law, including the majority’s determination that the district court incorrectly imposed a requirement that the allegedly infringing works comment on the original works to be entitled to a fair use defense. See Cariou v. Prince, 84 F.Supp.2d 337, 348–49 (S.D.N.Y.2011). I nevertheless part company with the majority.

While we may, as an appellate court, determine that secondary works are fair use in certain instances, see Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc. v. Nation Enters., 471 U.S. 539, 560, 105 S.Ct. 2218, 85 L.Ed.2d 588 (1985), in the usual case, after correcting an erroneous legal standard employed by the district court, we would remand for reconsideration. This standard, I suggest, should apply here where factual determinations must be reevaluated—and perhaps new evidence or expert opinions will be deemed necessary by the fact finder—after which a new decision can be made under the corrected legal analysis. But the majority short-circuits this time-tested search for a just result under the law. I would not apply the shortcut but would set aside the summary judgment, remand the entire case to the district court, and allow the district court to

title: Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/19


text:
Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/47

 Rh itself can be largely moved from the Quirinal through the Vatican.”

“Why of course it can,” I agreed, with as much relief in my tone as I could put into it. After all, what simpler way of moving the Ballplatz than that?

The Eminent Authority took another sip at his tea, and looked round at us through his spectacles.

It was I who was taking on myself to do most of the answering, because it was I who had brought him there and invited the other men to meet him. “He’s coming round at five,” I had said, “do come and have a cup of tea and meet him. He knows more about the European situation and the probable solution than any other man living.” Naturally they came gladly. They wanted to know—as everybody wants to know—how the war will end. They were just ordinary plain men like myself.

I could see that they were a little mystified, perhaps disappointed. They would have liked, just as I would, to ask a few plain questions, such as, can the Italians knock the stuff out of the Austrians? Are the Rumanians getting licked or not? How many submarines has Germany got, anyway? Such questions, in fact, as we are accustomed to put up to one another every day at lunch and to answer out

title: Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/47


text:
Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/48

 Rh of the morning paper. As it was, we didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

No one spoke. The silence began to be even a little uncomfortable. It was broken by my friend Rapley, who is in wholesale hardware and who has all the intellectual bravery that goes with it. He asked the Authority straight out the question that we all wanted to put.

“Just what do you mean by the Ballplatz? What is the Ballplatz?”

The Authority smiled an engaging smile.

“Precisely,” he said, “I see your drift exactly. You say what is the Ballplatz? I reply quite frankly that it is almost impossible to answer. Probably one could best define it as the driving power behind the Ausgleich.”

“I see,” said Rapley.

“Though the plain fact is that ever since the Herzegovinian embroglio the Ballplatz is little more than a counterpoise to the Wilhelmstrasse.”

“Ah!” said Rapley.

“Indeed, as everybody knows, the whole relationship of the Ballplatz with the Nevski Prospekt has emanated from the Wilhelmstrasse.”

This was a thing which personally I had not known. But I said nothing. Neither did the

title: Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/48


text:
Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/20

 material evidence under the proper standard.

Unlike the majority, I would allow the district court to consider Prince’s statements in reviewing fair use. While not the sine qua non of fair use, see Blanch v. Koons, 467 F.3d 244, 255 n. 5 (2d Cir.2006), I see no reason to discount Prince’s statements as the majority does. While it may seem intuitive to assume that a defendant claiming fair use would typically give self-serving ex post facto testimony to support a defense, this Court has nevertheless relied on such statements when making this inquiry—even if just to confirm its own analysis. See id. at 252–53, 255; see also Castle Rock Entm’t, Inc. v. Carol Publ’g Grp, Inc., 150 F.3d 132, 142 (2d Cir.1998) (looking to statements of the allegedly infringing work’s creators when analyzing the purpose and character of the secondary work). Thus, I view Prince’s statements—which, as Prince acknowledges, consist of “his view of the purpose and effect of each of the individual [p]aintings”—as relevant to the transformativeness analysis.

The majority relies on the Seventh Circuit’s decision in Brownmark Films, LLC v. Comedy Partners, 682 F.3d 687 (7th Cir.2012), for the proposition that all the Court needs to do here to determine transformativeness is view the original work and the secondary work and, apparently, employ its own artistic judgment. In my view, Brownmark cannot be extended so far. Brownmark arose under an unusual procedural posture: a motion to dismiss based on a non-pleaded fair use affirmative defense converted into a motion for summary judgment on appeal. See id. The court in Brownmark determined that it needed only to review the allegedly infringing video against the original to determine that the secondary work was permissible parody. Id. at 692–93. It appears to me, however, that Brownmark left open the possibility that additional evidence could be relevant to the fair use inquiry in a different procedural context. See id. at 692 n. 2 (identifying that the defendant could have put forth additional evidence to bolster its fair use defense if the case arose from a typical summary judgment motion); id. at 692 (stating that the district court was only required to consider the original and-secondary videos, “especially in light of [the plaintiff’s] failure to make any concrete contention” as to the secondary video’s potential market impact).

Further, Brownmark apparently arose in the context of a clear case of parody—so obvious that the appeals court affirmed the district court’s conclusion that fair use was evident from even a “fleeting glance” at the original and secondary works. Id. at 689–90. I do not believe that the transformativeness of Prince’s works—which have not been presented as parody or satire—can be so readily determined. Because this case arises after extensive discovery and argument by the parties, I disagree that we must limit our inquiry to our own artistic perceptions of the original and secondary works.

Indeed, while I admit freely that I am not an art critic or expert, I fail to see how the majority in its appellate role can “confidently” draw a distinction between the twenty-five works that it has identified as constituting fair use and the five works that do not readily lend themselves to a fair use determination. This, mind you, is done on a summary judgment review with no understanding of what additional evidence may be presented on remand. I also fail to see a principled reason for remanding to the district court only the five works the majority identifies as close calls, although I agree that they must be sent back to the trial court. If the district

title: Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/20


text:
Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/21

 court is in the best position to determine fair use as to some paintings, why is the same not true as to all paintings? Certainly we are not merely to use our personal art views to make the new legal application to the facts of this case. Cf. Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc., 510 U.S. 569, 582, 114 S.Ct. 1164, 127 L.Ed.2d 500 (1994) (“ ‘[I]t would be a dangerous undertaking for persons trained only to the law to constitute themselves final judges of the worth of [a work], outside of the narrowest and most obvious limits’ ”), quoting Bleistein v. Donaldson Lithographing Co., 188 U.S. 289, 251, 23 S.Ct. 298, 47 L.Ed. 460 (1903). It would be extremely uncomfortable for me to do so in my appellate capacity, let alone my limited art experience.

In my view, because the district court takes the primary role in determining the facts and applying the law to the facts in fair use cases, after which we exercise our appellate review if called upon to do so, I conclude that as to each painting, “the district court is best situated to determine, in the first instance,” whether Prince is entitled to a fair use defense in light of the correct legal standard. See. I mean no disrespect to the majority, but I, for one, do not believe that I am in a position to make these fact- and opinion-intensive decisions on the twenty-five works that passed the majority’s judicial observation. I do not know what additional facts will become relevant under the corrected rule of law, nor am I trained to make art opinions ab initio.

I would thus remand the entire case—all thirty of Prince’s paintings—for further proceedings in the district court on an open record to take such additional testimony as needed and apply the correct legal standard. On this basis, therefore, I respectfully dissent.

title: Page:Cariou v. Prince.pdf/21


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/93

And then she heard of his recall From green woods to his father's hall. But, not while yet still heart to heart, Know we what pain it is to part! Not while we list, the voice so dear, Although it be Farewell we hear. Not while on one fond breast reclining,— Not while dear eyes are on us shining,— Although we deem that hour must be The depth of Fate's worst misery,— Know we how much the heart can bear Of lonely and of long despair. And strove the royal youth to cheer The sorrowing of his maiden's fear, With all those gentle vows that prove At least the eloquence of love. But still she wept: Oh! not for me To wish or hope fidelity! Tell me not will recall His peasant love in lighted hall: When the rich Eastern gems look dim By the bright eyes that smile for him. Go share, as man will ever share, In love's delight, but not love's care; And leave me to my woman's part— A rifled and a broken heart. He took a gold chain from his neck,— Such chains the fair Venetians deck,—


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/94

And threw it round her—"See how slight The fragile links that here unite. Yet try,, and all in vain,— You cannot break the slender chain; This be our emblem, sweet, farewell! He kissed the teardrops as they fell. They parted—he for festival And beauty's lighted coronal, And all the meteor spells that try The strength of absent constancy; And even as all changed around, The change in his own heart was found; The dance's gayest cavalier, Who soonest won a lady's ear With soft words, wandering amid many, And true to none, yet vowed to any. 'Tis ever thus;—alas! there clings The curse of change to earthly things;— The flower fades, the green leaf dies, A cloud steals over April skies,— Tides turn their course, stars fall, winds range, But more than all these, love will change. Not so ,—day after day, She watched and wept o'er hope's decay: At last hope died, she felt it vain To hope or dream of hope again. It was one noon she chanced to look On the clear mirror of the brook,


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/95

Which ran beside the cypress tree, Where their glad meetings wont to be. She marked her eye's dim darkened blue, The cheek which had forgot its hue Of summer rose—the faded brow! "Alas! he would not love me now!" And hope departed from that hour— But not with hope declined love's power; It was changed to a mournful feeling, The deeper from its deep concealing Fond thoughts, and gentle prayers that strove To make a piety of love. And then there came a wish to die Unknown, but still beneath his eye;— At first 'twas but a fear, a thought— A dream of thousand fancies wrought; It haunted still—at last she gave Her tresses to the wind and wave: Then as a page she sought his train, And looked on face again. There was a revel held that night In honour of the lady bright, Who was next day, by side, To wear the white veil of a bride; And from the gallery, Gazed with the crowd on that gay scene. There were high dames, with raven curls Falling from the snow wreath of pearls;


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/83

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/83


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/96

Fair arms on which the emerald shone, And silver robe and ruby zone; And feet that seemed but made to tread Imprintless on the lily's head; Laughs like glad music, as their all Of life had been a festival. And marvelled that such mirth Could find a welcome upon earth. She had been nursed 'mid forest trees, And vineyards, birds, and flowers and bees; And little had she learnt the task To turn the false lip to a mask Of sunshine and of smiles, to hide The heart of bitterness and pride, Like those gay coloured plants that wreath Their blossoms on the snake beneath.

And suddenly the gorgeous room Was filled with music, light, and bloom; As the thrice fragrant air was filled With waters from sweet leaves distilled; As lighted up the perfumed flame Of woods that from Arabia came: And a rich sweep of music blent From every mingled instrument; And smile, and sigh, and bended brow, Greeted the dame who entered now.


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/97

'Twas love: her braided hair Was bright, for gems and gold were there. had sometimes feared to guess Her rival's wealth of loveliness. But now—oh, thus had sold His heart, his once fond heart, for gold! Oh! all but this she could have borne— But not to feel for scorn. She left the gallery; next day A pilgrim at an altar lay.— The chapel hung with silk and flower, Meet for  bridal hour:— A boy so wan, so delicate, No marvel at his early fate! A chain of gold lay on the shrine, And underneath a faultering line: "An offering for the happiness Of him whom my love could not bless." All felt it was a woman's prayer— It was had perished there! L. E. L.


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/84

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/84


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/85

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/85


text:
Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/49

 Rh other men. They continued smoking, looking as innocent as they could.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” said the Authority, “when I speak of the Nevski Prospekt. I am not referring in any way to the Tsarskoe Selo.”

“No, no,” we all agreed.

“No doubt there were, as we see it plainly now, undercurrents in all directions from the Tsarskoe Selo.”

We all seemed to suggest by our attitude that these undercurrents were sucking at our very feet.

“But the Tsarskoe Selo,” said the Authority, “is now definitely eliminated.”

We were glad of that; we shifted our feet back into attitudes of ease.

I felt that it was time to ask a leading question.

“Do you think,” I said, “that Germany will be broken up by the war?”

“You mean Germany in what sense? Are you thinking of Preuszenthum? Are you referring to Junkerismus?”

“No,” I said, quite truthfully, “neither of them.”

“Ah,” said the Authority, “I see; you mean Germany as a Souverantät embodied in a Reichsland.”

“That’s it,” I said.

title: Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/49


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/409

THE CRIMINAL.

'Tis silence in that cell, and dim the light Gleaming from the sunk lamp; there is one stands Fettered and motionless—so very pale, That were he laid within his winding-sheet And death were on him, yet his cheek could not Wear ghastlier hues; cold damps are on his brow; With intense passion the red veins are swelled; The white lip quivers with suppressed sobs, And his dark eye is glazed with tears which still He is too stern to shed. His countenance Bears wild and fearful traces of the years Which have passed on in guilt; pride, headstrong ire Have left their marks behind; yet, mid this war Of evil elements, some glimpses shine Of better feelings, which, like clouded stars, Soon set in night.—A sullen sound awakes


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/410

The silence of the cell. And up he starts, Roused from his dizzy trance of wretchedness, And gasps for breath, as that deep solemn toll Sinks on his spirit, like a warning voice Sent from eternity; again it rolls— Thy awful bell, St. Sepulchre, which tells The criminal of death;—his life-pulse stops, As if in awe, and then beats rapidly: Flushes a sudden crimson on his face, Passes, and leaves it deadlier than before. He is alone no longer; one is there Whose only language is her tears, and one Whose words of anger on the sinful child, His shame and sorrow, find no utterance now.

 * At first the look the murderer wore was stern,

And cold, and ghastly, for his pride had nerved His spirit to its agony; but when He felt that pale girl's tears upon his hand, And heard his father's words of penitence, Of tenderness and pardon, then relaxed His marble brow, and wild warm drops came down He strove no more to quell. And there she lay, His wretched Ellen, pillowed on a breast Whose lightest beat to her was more than life, All guilty as it was;—her fair blue eyes (How softly beautiful!) were filled with drops They had no power to shed, but heavily


text:
Page:The Literary Souvenir for 1825.pdf/411

They hung upon the eyelash, which drooped o'er A cheek whose summer colour had departed With the sweet hopes that nourished its bloom. His love had been destruction; he had thrown Shame and dishonour on the innocent one, Whose fate was linked with his, who loved him yet Most truly and most fondly. From the hour When, a young bride, she dreamt of happiness, She never had forsaken him, but still Had been his better angel;—his mad life Had passed 'mid fearful passions, evil deeds, And she had often wept in solitude: Yet sometimes (for he loved her) he returned; Her patient smile then lighted up his home, And never did that soft lip breathe reproach; Only her health-forsaken cheek, her brow So wan, told of her wrongs, and she would sob At times upon his bosom, till he swore To leave his evil wanderings. At last The thunderbolt came down, and crushed her heart— He was a murderer. ---- Still she forsook him not, and his lone cell Was brightened by her presence—her soft voice Breathed consolation in its gentle tones; She wept, she watched, she prayed with him;—how deep Is woman's memory of her first love-dream, Though truth has chilled its sweet illusiveness!


text: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/86

title: Page:Poems Allen.djvu/86