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 of things, and it remains with them perhaps to perfect what I may suggest. If I have succeeded at all, the lovers of nature have still to judge in what proportion the success may be;—but let me take them with me a while, whether in doors or out of doors, whether in the room or the green fields,—let my verses, in short, come under the perusal of ingenuous eyes, and be felt a little by the hearts that look out of them, and I am satisfied.


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. I imagine it.

. I dare say there is no use in offering advice, not when your mind is made up; but if my experience counts for anything, I should say: "Don't you marry, my boy, don't you marry, under any circumstances." You will ask: "Why did you do it, then?" I reply: "For the same reason you are doing it now." Not all of us can hold out as long as Galán, and regulate love according to the civil service, though for that matter, if you promise not to mention it—what would Adelaida say if she knew?—I have met Galán more than once on my way to the office, taking the air in the Plaza del Carmen with a tight little maid servant.

. Heigh-ho, Galán!

. Exactly. He picks out the girls who have fat places, fashionable cooks who squeeze enough out of the change to hire a boy to carry home their market-baskets, bulging over, if you please, with rich, juicy things. Think what life must be in one of those families! And what, too, must come the way of the cook! I have seen them with diamond earrings.

. You don't say? You are observant yourself.

. No, I get no further than the market-basket. Take my word for it.

. Julio! Manolo! Well, boys… Caramba!

. Hello, Pepe.

. What have you been up to? We haven't seen you at the office. I was going to drop in at your house and inquire how you were.

. No, I haven't been to the office. I am not going back.

. What is that?

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


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STORY OF RIMINI.

TIME, THE CLOSE of the 13TH CENTURY;—SCENE, FIRST AT RAVENNA, AFTERWARDS AT RIMINI.


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. I have had the pleasure of handing in my resignation.

. You?

. Happy man to be able to indulge—assuming, of course, that it was voluntary.

. Ah, who can say? I dropped in to bid you good-by.

. Good-by?

. Yes, I am leaving Madrid—I might say the world. I am getting married.

. Heaven!

. I understand the reason for your resignation. A rich wife, the match you have been looking for! You are not a man to miss anything.

. No, no… this time I appear not to have missed.

. Congratulations, man; tell us all about it. Our presents may not amount to much, but our congratulations will be sincere.

. You remember I was paying attention to the Somolinos?—those girls who attract so much attention.

. Yes, "Two Thousand for One" is what they call them—a tribute to the attractiveness of their father.

. Yes, he has the income. Well, I made love to them.

. The plural appeals to the imagination.

. I employ the plural, as a matter of fact, because one looked as good to me as the other.

. Presumably. In these cases, interest centres in the father.

. Meanwhile I waited, so as to allow the girls opportunity to make the choice.

. Coquette!

. And they did. One of them, I believe the eldest

. The eldest invariably develops most speed.


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 "Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Raddle, elevating her voice for the information of the neighbours, "do you suppose that I'm a-going day after day to let a fellar occupy my lodgings as never thinks of paying his rent, nor even the very money laid out for the fresh butter and lump sugar that's bought for his breakfast, and the very milk that's took in, at the street door? Do you suppose a hard-working and industrious woman as has lived in this street for twenty year (ten year over the way, and nine year and three quarter in this very house) has nothing else to do but to work herself to death after a parcel of lazy idle fellars, that are always smoking and drinking, and lounging, when they ought to be glad to turn their hands to anything that would help 'em to pay their bills? Do you"

"My good soul," interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen, soothingly.

"Have the goodness to keep your observashuns to yourself, sir, I beg," said Mrs. Raddle, suddenly arresting the rapid torrent of her speech, and addressing the third party with impressive slowness and solemnity. "I am not aweer, sir, that you have any right to address your conversation to me. I don't think I let these apartments to you, sir."

"No, you certainly did not," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"Very good, sir," responded Mrs. Raddle, with lofty politeness. "Then p'raps, sir, you'll confine yourself to breaking the arms and legs of the poor people in the hospitals, and keep yourself to yourself, sir, or there may be some persons here as will make you, sir."

"But you are such an unreasonable woman," remonstrated Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"I beg your parding, young man," said Mrs. Raddle, in a cold perspiration of anger. "But will you have the goodness just to call me that again, sir?"

"I didn't make use of the word in any invidious sense, ma'am," replied Mr. Benjamin Allen, growing somewhat uneasy on his own account.


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. The poor man has no chance

. She appeared to favor me. Naturally, I said to myself, "This is mine," and from that moment I ceased to ingratiate myself with the other two.

. Your delicacy does you credit.

. We arranged interviews, we commenced a correspondence. Boys, I wish you could have seen those letters! As a talker I am only ordinary, but I am a whirlwind when I write. I hit upon some choice paragraphs. To make a long story short, the girl fell in love with me madly.

. And as soon as she was mad enough, she consented to marry you.

. Who told you she consented?

. Ah! Then she was not the one who consented?

. Never.

. Oh! That makes a difference. It was her sister?

. Neither.

. But I mean the other one. You said there were three?

. Not her either. What do you take me for? Give me credit. You don't know me.

. But you just said you were going to marry, you told us you were making love to the family; now, it appears you are marrying some one else. Whom are you going to marry?

. Does a man have to marry a woman because he happens to mention her name? Now don't you laugh! I am a thorough romantic, I am a man with a heart. Accursed heart, I say!

. If it affects you like this, your case must be serious.

. Wait, wait till you hear! What with all this cor-


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 that little bill of mine I'll thank you, because I've got my rent to pay this afternoon, and my landlord's a waiting below now." Here the little woman rubbed her hands, and looked steadily over Mr. Bob Sawyer's head, at the wall behind him.

"I am very sorry to put you to any inconvenience, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob Sawyer, deferentially, "but'

"Oh, it isn't any inconvenience," replied the little woman, with a shrill titter. "I didn't want it particular before today; leastways, as it has to go to my landlord directly, it was as well for you to keep it as me. You promised me this afternoon, Mr. Sawyer, and every gentleman as has ever lived here, has kept his word, sir, as of course anybody as calls himself a gentleman, does." Mrs. Raddle tossed her head, bit her lips, rubbed her hands harder, and looked at the wall more steadily than ever. It was plain to see, as Mr. Bob Sawyer remarked in a style of eastern allegory on a subsequent occasion, that she was "getting the steam up."

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob Sawyer with all imaginable humility, but the fact is, that I have been disappointed in the City to-day."—Extraordinary place that City. An astonishing number of men always are getting disappointed there.

"Well, Mr. Sawyer," said Mrs. Raddle, planting herself firmly on a purple cauliflower in the Kidderminster carpet, "and what's that to me, sir?"

"I—I—have no doubt, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob Sawyer, blinking this last question, "that before the middle of next week we shall be able to set ourselves quite square, and go on, on a better system, afterwards."

This was all Mrs. Raddle wanted. She had bustled up to the apartment of the unlucky Bob Sawyer, so bent upon going into a passion, that, in all probability, payment would have rather disappointed her than otherwise. She was in excellent order for a little relaxation of the kind: having just exchanged a few introductory compliments with Mr. R. in the front kitchen.


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 and panting, and Mr. Talliaferro found a puerile vengeful glee in hearing her labored breath. But he was a gentleman; he put this from him, rebuking himself. He knocked on a door, was bidden, opened it:

“Back, are you?” Gordon sat in his single chair, munching a thick sandwich, clutching a book. The unshaded light glared savagely upon his undershirt.

“You have callers,” Mr. Talliaferro offered his belated warning, but the other looking up had already seen beyond his shoulder Mrs. Maurier’s interested face. He rose and cursed Mr. Talliaferro, who had begun immediately his unhappy explanation.

“Mrs. Maurier insisted on dropping in—”

Mrs. Maurier vanquished him anew. “Mister Gordon!” She sailed into the room, bearing her expression of happy astonishment like a round platter stood on edge. “How do you do? Can you ever, ever forgive us for intruding like this?” she went on in her gushing italics. “We just met Mr. Talliaferro on the street with your milk, and we decided to brave the lion in his den. How do you do?” She forced her effusive hand upon him, staring about in happy curiosity. “So this is where genius labors. How charming: so—so original. And that—” she indicated a corner screened off by a draggled length of green rep “—is your bedroom, isn’t it? How delightful! Ah, Mr. Gordon, how I envy you this freedom. And a view—you have a view also, haven’t you?” She held his hand and stared entranced at a high useless window framing two tired looking stars of the fourth magnitude.

“I would have if I were eight feet tall,” he corrected. She looked at him quickly, happily. Mr. Talliaferro laughed nervously.

“That would be delightful,” she agreed readily. “I was so

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 to give a party I ought to be able to pay her confounded 'little bill.

"How long has it been running?" inquired Mr. Ben Allen. A bill, by the bye, is the most extraordinary locomotive engine that the genius of man ever produced. It would keep on running during the longest lifetime, without ever once stopping of its own accord.

"Only a quarter, and a month or so," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

Ben Allen coughed hopelessly, and directed a searching look between the two top bars of the stove.

"It'll be a deuced unpleasant thing if she takes it into her head to let out, when those fellows are here, won't it?" said Mr. Ben Allen at length.

"Horrible," replied Bob Sawyer, "horrible."

A low tap was heard at the room door. Mr. Bob Sawyer looked expressively at his friend, and bade the tapper come in; whereupon a dirty slipshod girl in black cotton stockings, who might have passed for the neglected daughter of a superannuated dustman in very reduced circumstances, thrust in her head, and said,

"Please, Mister Sawyer, Missis Raddle wants to speak to you."

Before Mr. Bob Sawyer could return any answer, the girl suddenly disappeared with a jerk, as if somebody had given her a violent pull behind; this mysterious exit was no sooner accomplished, than there was another tap at the door-a smart pointed tap, which seemed to say, "Here I am, and in I'm coming."

Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced at his friend with a look of abject apprehension, and once more cried "Come in."

The permission was not at all necessary, for, before Mr. Bob Sawyer had uttered the words, a little fierce woman bounced into the room, all in a tremble with passion, and pale with rage.

"Now, Mr. Sawyer," said the little fierce woman, trying to appear very calm, "if you'll have the kindness to settle


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 respondence, this running to and fro, "Yes, the señorita will be out to-day." "No, to-day she cannot receive." "Today, perhaps, you might call"… well, the long and the short of it was, I found myself hand in glove with the maid.

. Stop! She is the one.

. What?

. You are going to marry the maid.

. Manolo, you guessed it. The maid!

. Man alive!

. My son!

. None other. And a maid! I told you I was romantic.

. Pepe! Pepe!

. Pepe!

. That is all there is to it. I was taken off my guard. The poor girl outdid herself to oblige me, and, to be perfectly fair, I was not in a position to offer tips. It was sympathy, something about me—well, it appealed to us both. I was always telling her nonsense, and she was pleased, naturally, so one day I invited her to go to Las Ventas to sample the rice. A man has to say something. Well, it began to look serious, it began to be serious. I am not a man to stand by and see a poor girl in tears when she has lost her position on my account, and finds herself without a position, as she does now.

. You may suppress the details.

. Well, facts are eloquent; well, I am going to marry her. I see no occasion, however, to laugh. I should not like my friends to think ill of my wife, and as we cannot possibly live here on my miserable pay, especially as I have an idea that we are headed for a large family

. Although you never can tell.

. Anyhow, I have resigned my position, and made


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40

, youth so lively,

He the handsome Kaukomieli,

Took provisions in his satchel,

In his wallet summer-butter,

Butter for a year to last him,

For another, pork sufficient,

Then he travelled off to hide him,

Started in the greatest hurry,

And he said the words which follow:

“Now I go, and I’m escaping,

For the space of three whole summers,

And for five years in succession.

Be the land to snakes abandoned,

Let the lynxes snarl in greenwood,

In the fields the reindeer wander,

In the brakes the geese conceal them.

“Fare thee well, my dearest mother,

If the people come from Pohja,

From Pimentola the army,

And about my head they ask you,

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46 a little sharp-pointed stick. She pushed it through a tiny hole in Mrs. Ikkisfield's stocking. It hurt! Mrs. Ikkisfield gave a little shriek of pain and dropped Snowflake, who instantly put her paw on a small fern which she sawshe couldn't see Eepersip, but the fern was very familiar!and was pulled by Eepersip into the bush. When the people saw that, they knew, of course, who was near.

Eepersip started to crawl through the bush and out the other side; but she heard Mr. Eigleen whispering to the others to go around and stop her. While they were watching, Mr. Brunio, who had joined them, went back into the house and fetched a net. It was woven of coarse, thick ropes, but the meshes were quite small enough to hold the kitten, and almost Chippy himself. (Mr. Brunio had once been a fisherman; he had retired, but he still had many nets with meshes of various sizes.) They put this net over the bush and pegged it down firmly, driving the pegs with the head of an ax which Mr. Brunio brought out. Then they retreated to a distance and watched.

Eepersip began working at the pegs; and the chipmunk and the kitten to dig at the base of each so that she might be able to pull them up more easily. The pegs were really too big for Eepersip's

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Summary
A 1961 printing of the 1928 books. Re-upload with proper capitalization in title.


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Runo XXIX]

Say that I have fled before them,

And have taken my departure,

And I have laid waste my clearing,

That which I had reaped so lately.”

Then he pushed his boat in water,

On the waves he launched his vessel,

From the rollers steel he launched it,

From the haven lined with copper.

On the mast the sails he hoisted,

And he spread the sails of linen,

At the stern himself he seated,

And prepared him for his journey,

Sitting by his birchwood rudder,

With the stern-oar deftly steering.

Then he spoke the words which follow,

And in words like these expressed him:

“Wind, inflate the sails above me,

Wind of spring drive on the vessel,

Drive with speed the wooden vessel,

Onward drive the boat of pinewood

Forward to the nameless island,

And the nameless promontory.”

So the wind the bark drove onward,

O’er the foaming lake ’twas driven,

O’er the bright expanse of water,

Speeding o’er the open water,

Rocking while two moons were changing,

Till a third was near its ending.

At the cape were maidens sitting,

There upon the blue lake’s margin

They were gazing, and were casting

Glances o’er the azure billows.

One was waiting for her brother,

And another for her father,

But the others all were waiting,

Waiting each one for a lover.

In the distance spied they Kauko,

Sooner still the boat of Kauko,

Like a little cloud in distance,

Just between the sky and water.

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 table beside his chair was a box of flavored digestive lozenges and presently he sat with his feet in the warm water, chewing one of the tablets.

The water mounted warmly through his thin body, soothing him, the pungent lozenge between his slow jaws gave him a temporary surcease. Let’s see, he mused to his rhythmic mastication, calmly reviewing the evening. Where did I go wrong to-night? My plan was good: Fairchild himself admitted that. Let me think His jaws ceased and his gaze brooded on a photograph of his late wife on the opposite wall. Why is it that they never act as you had calculated? You can allow for every contingency, and yet they will always do something else, something they themselves could not have imagined nor devised beforehand.

I have been too gentle with them, I have allowed too much leeway for the intervention of their natural perversity and of sheer chance. That has been my mistake every time: giving them dinners and shows right away, allowing them to relegate me to the position of a suitor, of one waiting upon their pleasure. The trick, the only trick, is to bully them, to dominate them from the start—never employ wiles and never allow them the opportunity to employ wiles. The oldest technique in the world: a club. By God, that’s it.

He dried his feet swiftly and thrust them into his bedroom slippers, and went to the telephone and gave a number. “That’s the trick, exactly,” he whispered exultantly, and then in his ear was a sleepy masculine voice.

“Fairchild? So sorry to disturb you, but I have it at last.” A muffled inarticulate sound came over the wire, but he rushed on, unheeding. “I learned through a mistake to-night. The trouble is, I haven’t been bold enough with them: I have been afraid of frightening them away. Listen: I will bring her here, I will not take No; I will be cruel and

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A 1961 printing of the 1928 books. Re-upload with proper capitalization in title.


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Rh little hands to manage comfortably, but she didn’t think of comfort in such danger as this, and she worked boldly at the pegs with her nimble fingers. After she had got two or three up, the Eigleens and their friends came forward, took those pegs, and put them down more firmly than before, so that Eepersip had to begin all over.

Although the people who were trying to capture Eepersip and the kitten were naturally becoming very hungry, they didn’t like to leave the bush unguarded. But Mr. Brunio (who was exceptionally hungry) said that he had many more such nets, and that they could spread them all over the bush and hurriedly get luncheon. If they put them down very firmly, and ate rather fast, there wouldn't be much chance of Eepersip's escaping before they get out again. So they spread four more nets over the bush and went in.

Now was Eepersip's chance, and she worked harder than ever. At last, with the aid of Chippy and Snowflake, who helped a lot by digging around the pegs, Eepersip got out of the first net and began tugging at the second. She didn’t try to dig up the pegs of this one: instead, all three tried to dig under it, and at last they had made a hole large enough for Eepersip to crawl through. The fibres of the third net were rather rotten, so that

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text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Johnes, Toby


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42

And the island-maids reflected,

Said the maidens of the island:

“What’s this strange thing in the water,

What this wonder on the billows?

If a boat of our relations,

Sailing vessel of our island,

Hasten then, and speed thee homeward,

To the harbour of the island,

That we hear the tidings quickly,

Hear the news from foreign countries,

If there’s peace among the shore-folks,

Or if war is waged among them.”

Still the wind the sail inflated,

And the billows drove the vessel.

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Guided to the isle the vessel,

To the island’s end he drove it,

Where it ends in jutting headland.

And he said on his arrival,

To the cape as he was coming,

“Is there room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Where the boat may land upon it,

And to dry land I may bring it?”

Said the girls upon the island,

And the island-maidens answered:

“There is room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Where the boat may land upon it,

And to dry land you may bring it.

There are harbours for the vessel,

On the beach sufficient rollers,

To receive a hundred vessels,

Though the boats should come by thousands.”

Then the lively Lemminkainen

On the land drew up his vessel,

On the wooden rollers laid it,

And he spoke the words which follow:

“Is there room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

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text:
File:The House at Pooh Corner (1961) (page 173 crop).jpg

Summary
A 1961 printing of the 1928 books. Re-upload with proper capitalization in title.


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (72)


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 anxious to have my niece see a real studio, Mr. Gordon, where a real artist works. Darling—” she glanced over her shoulder fatly, still holding his hand “—darling, let me present you to a real sculptor, one from whom we expect great things Darling,” she repeated in a louder tone.

The niece, untroubled by the stairs, had drifted in after them and she now stood before the single marble. “Come and speak to Mr. Gordon, darling.” Beneath her aunt’s saccharine modulation was a faint trace of something not so sweet after all. The niece turned her head and nodded slightly without looking at him. Gordon released his hand.

“Mr. Talliaferro tells me you have a commission.” Mrs. Maurier’s voice was again a happy astonished honey. “May we see it? I know artists don’t like to exhibit an incomplete work, but just among friends, you see You both know how sensitive to beauty I am, though I have been denied the creative impulse myself.”

“Yes,” agreed Gordon, watching the niece.

“I have long intended visiting your studio, as I promised, you remember. So I shall take this opportunity of looking about— Do you mind?”

“Help yourself. Talliaferro can show you things. Pardon me.” He lurched characteristically between them and Mrs. Maurier chanted:

“Yes, indeed. Mr. Talliaferro, like myself, is sensitive to the beautiful in Art. Ah, Mr. Talliaferro, why were you and I given a love for the beautiful, yet denied the ability to create it from stone and wood and clay”

Her body in its brief simple dress was motionless when he came over to her. After a time he said:

“Like it?”

Her jaw in profile was heavy: there was something mascu-

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48 tore it easily. Each peg of the fourth and fifth nets came up at one mighty yank; Mr. Brunio and his helpers had put the last nets down in a great hurry, in order to get their luncheon. Then Eepersip, with the two little animals, fled from that dread place, across the bridge and back to the meadow, where she found a sheltered spot and slept.

The three families were much disgusted themselves for not catching Eepersip and the kitten; but they promised Mr. Brunio that would try again. There followed a week of rainy weather, during which they made no attempts, but laid plans. As soon as the weather cleared, they tried one of these plans; and Snowflake had a narrow escape.

It was in the middle of the night. The families found Eepersip, with the two little animals, asleep on the meadow. They took the kitten from her arms. But as they did so, Eepersip herself woke up, screamed loudly, and rushed after them. Then they turned and came after her; and Eepersip was bold enough and angry enough not to run until she had rescued Snowflake. She came right up her

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text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (71)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (70)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (69)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (68)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Jones, Thomas (67)


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ARTICLES


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Runo XXIX]

Where a little man may hide him,

And a weak man may take refuge

From the din of furious battle,

And the clash of steely sword-blades?”

Said the girls upon the island,

And the island-maidens answered:

“There is room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Where a little man may hide him,

And a weak man may conceal him.

Here are very many castles,

Stately castles to reside in,

Though there came a hundred heroes,

And a thousand men of valour.”

Said the lively Lemminkainen,

And he spoke the words which follow:

“Is there room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Where there stands a birch-tree forest,

And a stretch of other country,

Where I perhaps may make a clearing,

Work upon my goodly clearing?”

Said the girls upon the island,

And the island-maidens answered:

“There is not upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Not the space your back could rest on,

Land not of a bushel’s measure,

Where you perhaps might make a clearing,

Work upon your goodly clearing.

All the land is now divided,

And the fields in plots are measured,

And allotted are the fallows,

Grassland managed by the commune.”

Said the lively Lemminkainen,

Asked the handsome Kaukomieli,

“Is there room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Space where I my songs may carol,

Space where I may sing my ballads?

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text:
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Summary
A 1961 printing of the 1928 books. Re-upload with proper capitalization in title.


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44

Words within my mouth are melting,

And between my gums are sprouting.”

Said the girls upon the island,

And the island-maidens answered:

“There is room upon this island,

On the surface of the island,

Space where you may sing your ballads,

And intone your splendid verses,

While you sport amid the greenwood,

While you dance among the meadows.”

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Hastened to commence his singing.

In the court sang mountain-ashtrees,

In the farmyard oaks grew upward.

On the oaks were equal branches,

And on every branch an acorn,

Golden globes within the acorns,

And upon the globes were cuckoos.

When the cuckoos all were calling,

From their mouths was gold distilling,

From their beaks was copper flowing,

Likewise silver pouring onward

To the hills all golden-shining,

And among the silver mountains.

Once again sang Lemminkainen,

Once again he sang and chanted,

Gravel sang to pearls of beauty,

All the stones to gleaming lustre,

All the stones to glowing redness,

And the flowers to golden glory.

Then again sang Lemminkainen;

In the yard a well created,

O’er the well a golden cover,

And on this a golden bucket,

That the lads might drink the water,

And their sisters wash their faces.

Ponds he sang upon the meadows,

In the ponds blue ducks were floating,

Temples golden, heads of silver,

And their claws were all of copper.

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Rh parents and seized Snowflake from the arms of the horrified Mrs. Eigleen. Then Eepersip ranand fast, too!

When she came to the edge of the woods she made straight for a great pine. This tree she had climbed about in often, and she knew its every limb. In pitch dark she could find all its branches, and sometimes she trusted to her memory rather recklessly. She was as sure of this tree as of the ground, even at night. She lovedshe called it her tree. A tree was, perhaps, not the easiest place of concealment, but Eepersip thought that in this way she would not have to run all over the meadow in the darkand she was very tired after her usual all-day playing.

There were no branches lower than seven feet up. Eepersip made one leap, caught hold of a branch, and swung herself up on to it. From that branch she mounted higher and higher until she reached the very top. It swayed gloriously, even under her light weight, but to didn't creak as if about to break. She sat up in the high crotch and looked at the people so far below, through a mass of black needles toil a mighty thickness of strong limbs. It was a wonderful night. The sky was spangled with stars of vivid silver. Not a cloud was to be seen except on the western horizon,

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Runo XXIX]

Then the island-maidens wondered,

And the girls were all astounded

At the songs of Lemminkainen,

And the craft of that great hero.

Said the lively Lemminkainen,

Spoke the handsome Kaukomieli,

“I have sung a song most splendid,

But perchance might sing a better,

If beneath a roof I sang it,

At the end of the deal table.

If a house you cannot give me,

There to rest upon the planking,

I will hum my tunes in forest,

Toss my songs among the bushes.”

Said the maidens of the island,

Answered after full reflection:

“There are houses you may enter,

Handsome halls that you may dwell in,

Safe from cold to sing your verses,

In the open speak your magic.”

Then the lively Lemminkainen,

Entered in a house directly,

Where he sang a row of pint-pots,

At the end of the long table.

All the pots with ale were brimming,

And the cans with mead the finest,

Filled as full as one could fill them,

Dishes filled to overflowing.

In the pots was beer in plenty,

And the mead in covered tankards,

Butter too, in great abundance,

Pork was likewise there in plenty,

For the feast of Lemminkainen,

And for Kaukomieli’s pleasure.

Kauko was of finest manners,

Nor to eat was he accustomed,

Only with a knife of silver,

Fitted with a golden handle.

So he sang a knife of silver,

And a golden-hafted knife-blade,

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46

And he ate till he was sated,

Drank the ale in full contentment.

Then the lively Lemminkainen,

Roamed about through every village,

For the island-maidens’ pleasure,

To delight the braidless damsels,

And where’er his head was turning,

There he found a mouth for kissing,

Wheresoe’er his hand was outstretched,

There he found a hand to clasp it.

And at night he went to rest him,

Hiding in the darkest corner;

There was not a single village

Where he did not find ten homesteads,

There was not a single homestead

Where he did not find ten daughters,

There was none among the daughters,

None among the mother’s children,

By whose side he did not stretch him,

On whose arm he did not rest him.

Thus a thousand brides he found there,

Rested by a hundred widows;

Two in half-a-score remained not,

Three in a completed hundred,

Whom he left untouched as maidens,

Or as widows unmolested.

Thus the lively Lemminkainen

Lived a life of great enjoyment,

For the course of three whole summers

In the island’s pleasant hamlets,

To the island-maidens’ rapture,

The content of all the widows;

One alone he did not trouble,

’Twas a poor and aged maiden,

At the furthest promontory,

In the tenth among the hamlets.

As he pondered on his journey,

And resolved to wend him homeward,

Came the poor and aged maiden,

And she spoke the words which follow:

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50 where a bank was piling up rapidly, silhouetted against the deep ultramarine of the sky, across which the Milky Way made a path of radiance. Eepersip, looking down among the powerful limbs, felt as if she were part of the familiar tree.

Poor Chippy and Snowflake were tired and sleepy after what they had just been through. Eepersip murmured kind words to them, while she thought of all that she had been through herself. She was not in the least dizzy, but she was tired, and she knew that she must not go to sleep up there.

Then she saw that Mr. Eigleen had started to climb the great tree. He got about half-way up and then stopped. She remembered the place: it had been difficult for her, too. There was not a limb where he could put out a foot and step on it; the next one was at the level of his neck. The question was, how could he get on to this limb? He didn't have the strength to pull himself up to it the way Eepersip had done. He tried for a long time; but his caution proved too much for him. At last, in despair, he descended; and the people went away, leaving Eepersip in peace.

As soon as they were well out of sight and hearing, Eepersip came down in a series of leaps from limb to limb. At length she got to the bottom,

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Runo XXIX]

“Handsome hero, wretched Kauko,

If you will not think upon me,

Then I wish that as you travel,

May your boat on rocks be stranded.”

Rose he not before the cockcrow,

Nor before the hen’s child rose he,

From his sporting with the maiden,

Laughing with the wretched woman.

Then upon a day it happened,

And upon a certain evening,

He resolved to rise and wander,

Waiting not for morn or cockcrow.

Long before the time he rose up,

Sooner than the time intended,

And he went around to wander,

And to wander through the village,

For his sporting with the damsels,

To amuse the wretched women.

As alone by night he wandered,

Through the villages he sauntered

To the isle’s extremest headland,

To the tenth among the hamlets,

He beheld not any homestead

Where three rooms he did not notice,

There was not a room among them

Where he did not see three heroes,

And he saw not any hero,

With a sword-blade left unwhetted,

Sharpened thus to bring destruction

On the head of Lemminkainen.

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Spoke aloud the words which follow:

“Woe to me, the day is dawning,

And the pleasant sun is rising

O’er a youth, of all most wretched,

O’er the neck of me unhappy!

Lempo may perchance a hero

With his shirt protect and cover,

Perhaps will cover with his mantle,

Cast it round him for protection

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Rh where the last limb was seven feet from the ground. She braced herself as firmly as she could on this, and then she jumped. It was a marvellous jump in the dark, and she landed on the ground unhurt, though very tired and covered with bits of bark. "My, that was a dreary adventure!" she said sleepily, as she crawled off to find a place to sleep

Eersip saw no more of the Brunios or her parents, and she decided that they had given up chasing her and Snowflake for the wintera winter which she and her two friends spent undisturbed, playing with the leaves and shadows.

It was springspring before the third summer that Eepersip was to spend wildand the golden sun melted away the last patches of snow from off the bare rocks and from round the pool, where it had lodged between them. It was warm, although a wind was blowingthe delicious wind of spring. This marvellous spring air made her blood course quickly. She felt extremely happy and dancy. Her body seemed to her lighter than ever, in spite of its strength. Her spirit was so joyous that she could not express it in action; she had to

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 treated herself to a bit of finery, cried her eyes out, at the loss of the necklace; looked high and low for it; but, I needn't say, didn't find it. A few days afterwards, the family were at dinner—baked shoulder of mutton, and potatoes under it—the child, who wasn't hungry, was playing about the room, when suddenly there was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hail storm. Don't do that, my boy,' said the father. 'I ain't a doin' nothing,' said the child. Well, don't do it again,' said the father. There was a short silence, and then the noise began again, worse than ever. 'If you don't mind what I say, my boy,' said the father, 'you'll find yourself in bed, in something less than a pig's whisper.' He gave the child a shake to make him obedient, and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heard before. Why, damme, it's in the child!' said the father, 'he's got the croup in the wrong place!' 'No I haven't, father,' said the child, beginning to cry, it's the necklace; I swallowed it, father.'—The father caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital: the beads in the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and the people looking up in the air, and down in the cellars, to see where the unusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now," said Jack Hopkins, "and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks about, that they're obliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for fear he should wake the patients!"

"That's the most extraordinary case I ever heard of," said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the table.

"Oh, that's nothing," said Jack Hopkins; "is it, Bob?"

"Certainly not," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

"Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, sir," said Hopkins.

"So I should be disposed to imagine," replied Mr. Pickwick.

Another knock at the door, announced a large-headed young man in a black wig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long stock. The next comer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned with pink anchors, who was closely


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 "No," replied Hopkins, carelessly. "No, I should rather say he wouldn't. There must be a splendid operation though, to-morrow—magnificent sight if Slasher does it."

"You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator?" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Best alive," replied Hopkins. "Took a boy's leg out of the socket last week—boy ate five apples and a gingerbread cake—exactly two minutes after it was all over, boy said he wouldn't lie there to be made game of, and he'd tell his mother if they didn't begin."

"Dear me!" said Mr. Pickwick, astonished.

"Pooh! That's nothing, that ain't," said Jack Hopkins. "Is it, Bob?"

"Nothing at all," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

"By the bye, Bob," said Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible glance at Mr. Pickwick's attentive face, "we had a curious accident last night. A child was brought in, who had swallowed a necklace."

"Swallowed what, sir?" interrupted Mr. Pickwick.

"A necklace," replied Jack Hopkins. "Not all at once, you know, that would be too much—you couldn't swallow that, if the child did—eh, Mr. Pickwick, ha! ha!" Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratified with his own pleasantry; and continued. "No, the way was this. No, the way was this. Child's parents were poor people who lived in a court. Child's eldest sister bought a necklace; common necklace, made of large black wooden beads. Child, being fond of toys, cribbed the necklace, hid it, played with it, cut the string, and swallowed a bead. Child thought it capital fun, went back next day, and swallowed another bead."

"Bless my heart," said Mr. Pickwick, "what a dreadful thing! I beg your pardon, sir. Go on."

"Next day, child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he treated himself to three, and so on, till in a week's time he had got through the necklace—five-and-twenty beads in all. The sister, who was an industrious girl, and seldom


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 up among the aboriginal inhabitants of Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her hand, down the kitchen stairs: perfectly satisfied that she had done everything that could possibly be required of her under the circumstances.

Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, after several ineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain; and the friends stumbled up stairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been afraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. Raddle.

"How are you?" said the discomfited student. "Glad to see you,—take care of the glasses." This caution was addressed to Mr. Pickwick, who had put his hat in the tray.

"Dear me," said Mr. Pickwick, "I beg your pardon."

"Don't mention it, don't mention it," said Bob Sawyer. "I'm rather confined for room here, but you must put up with all that, when you come to see a young bachelor. Walk in. You've seen this gentleman before, I think?" Mr. Pickwick shook hands with Mr. Benjamin Allen, and his friends followed his example. They had scarcely taken their seats when there was another double knock.

"I hope that's Jack Hopkins!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer. "Hush. Yes, it is. Come up, Jack; come up."

A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presented himself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder-and-lightning buttons; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false collar.

"You're late, Jack?" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"Been detained at Bartholomew's," replied Hopkins.

"Anything new?"

"No, nothing particular. Rather a good accident brought into the casualty ward."

"What was that, sir?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Only a man fallen out of a four pair of stairs' window;—but it's a very fair case—very fair case indeed."

"Do you mean that the patient is in a fair way to recover?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.


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 highest degree. I don't deserve this at your hands, Emily, indeed!"

"Dear papa," said Emily, "Arabella knows—everybody here knows—Joe knows—that I was no party to this concealment. Augustus, for Heaven's sake, explain it!"

Mr. Snodgrass, who had only waited for a hearing, at once recounted how he had been placed in his then distressing predicament; how the fear of giving rise to domestic dissensions had alone prompted him to avoid Mr. Wardle on his entrance; how he merely meant to depart by another door, but, finding it locked, had been compelled to stay against his will. It was a painful situation to be placed in; but he now regretted it the less, inasmuch as it afforded him an opportunity of acknowledging, before their mutual friends, that he loved Mr. Wardle's daughter, deeply and sincerely; that he was proud to avow that the feeling was mutual; and that if thousands of miles were placed between them, or oceans rolled their waters, he could never for an instant forget those happy days, when first—and so on.

Having delivered himself to this effect, Mr. Snodgrass bowed again, looked into the crown of his hat, and stepped towards the door.

"Stop!" shouted Wardle. "Why, in the name of all that's"

"Inflammable," mildly suggested Mr. Pickwick, who thought something worse was coming.

"Well—that's inflammable," said Wardle, adopting the substitute: "couldn't you say all this to me in the first instance?"

"Or confide in me?" added Mr. Pickwick.

"Dear, dear," said Arabella, taking up the defence, "what is the use of asking all that now, especially when you know you had set your covetous old heart on a richer son-in-law, and are so wild and fierce besides, that everybody is afraid of you, except me. Shake hands with him, and order him some dinner, for goodness gracious sake, for he looks half-starved;


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52 let part of it out in song. But song, however light and happy, could not quite express Eepersip's feeling. She danced, and she sang, and she leaped aloft for joy.

As the season advanced, she crowned herself with sweet-smelling flowers, and the butterflies came and lit on them. She went up the pool wearing her fluttering crown, and there she saw the flowers that had come to bloom. There was iris, purple and goldhuge blossoms which reminded Eepersip of the ocean as she had seen it, so far away, on the first day of her wandering. In a soft bed of green moss she found a little pink-and-white flower that she didn't know, bell-shaped and very fragrant. There were wild-rose-buds there, too, and never had Eepersip seen so many butterflies as were on those roses. They bordered the tiny beach, mingled with the tenderly uncurling green ferns. The delicate red leaf-buds on the maple-trees were now developing into tiny emerald leaves. And there were ever so many other treasures Nature there.

Eepersip played little happy games with all the creatures of the field. One game she played with the crickets. A cricket would be hiding in a certain place, and when Eepersip danced by he would buzz out of the grass into her face; she would pretend

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 "He's drunk," roared old Wardle, passionately. "Ring the bell! Call the waiters! He's drunk."

"I ain't," said the fat boy, falling on his knees as his master seized him by the collar. "I ain't drunk."

"Then you're mad; that's worse. Call the waiters," said the old gentleman.

"I ain't mad; I'm sensible," rejoined the fat boy, beginning to cry.

"Then, what the devil do you run sharp instruments into Mr. Pickwick's legs for?" inquired Wardle, angrily.

"He wouldn't look at me," replied the boy. "I wanted to speak to him."

"What did you want to say?" asked half a dozen voices at once.

The fat boy gasped, looked at the bedroom door, gasped again, and wiped two tears away with the knuckle of each of his forefingers.

"What did you want to say?" demanded Wardle, shaking him.

"Stop!" said Mr. Pickwick; "allow me. What did you wish to communicate to me, my poor boy?"

"I want to whisper to you," replied the fat boy.

"You want to bite his ear off, I suppose," said Wardle. "Don't come near him; he's vicious; ring the bell, and let him be taken down stairs."

Just as Mr. Winkle caught the bell-rope in his hand, it was arrested by a general expression of astonishment; the captive lover, his face burning with confusion, suddenly walked in from the bedroom, and made a comprehensive bow to the company.

"Hallo!" cried Wardle, releasing the fat boy's collar, and staggering back, "What's this!"

"I have been concealed in the next room, sir, since you returned," explained Mr. Snodgrass.

"Emily, my girl," said Wardle, reproachfully, "I detest meanness and deceit; this is unjustifiable and indelicate in the


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Battle of the Sexes

 * The Battle of the Sexes (1928), a film directed by D. W. Griffith
 * Battle of the Sexes (1955), a book of cartoons and jokes published anonymously

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 Wardle and Mr. Ben Allen exchanged glances.

"Joe!" said Wardle.

"Yes, sir."

"What did you go away for?"

The fat boy looked hopelessly in the face of everybody at table, and stammered out, that he didn't know.

"Oh," said Wardle, "you don't know, eh? Take this cheese to Mr. Pickwick."

Now, Mr. Pickwick being in the very best health and spirits, had been making himself perfectly delightful all dinner-time, and was at this moment engaged in an energetic conversation with Emily and Mr. Winkle: bowing his head, courteously, in the emphasis of his discourse, gently waving his left hand to lend force to his observations, and all glowing with placid smiles. He took a piece of cheese from the plate, and was on the point of turning round to renew the conversation, when the fat boy, stooping so as to bring his head on a level with that of Mr. Pickwick, pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, and made the most horrible and hideous face that was ever seen out of a Christmas pantomime.

"Dear me!" said Mr. Pickwick, starting, "what a very—eh?" He stopped, for the fat boy had drawn himself up, and was, or pretended to be, fast asleep.

"What's the matter?" inquired Wardle.

"This is such an extremely singular lad!" replied Mr. Pickwick, looking uneasily at the boy. "It seems an odd thing to say, but upon my word I am afraid that, at times, he is a little deranged."

"Oh! Mr. Pickwick, pray don't say so," cried Emily and Arabella, both at once.

"I am not certain, of course," said Mr. Pickwick, amidst profound silence, and looks of general dismay; "but his manner to me this moment was really very alarming. Oh!" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, suddenly jumping up with a short scream. "I beg your pardon, ladies, but at that moment he ran some sharp instrument into my leg. Really he is not safe."


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 of the head from Arabella, which the fat boy considering as hints to be on his guard, expressed his perfect understanding of, by smirking, grinning, and winking, with redoubled assiduity.

"Joe," said Mr. Wardle, after an unsuccessful search in all his pockets, "is my snuff-box on the sofa?"

"No, sir," replied the fat boy.

"Oh, I recollect; I left it on my dressing-table this morning," said Wardle. "Run into the next room and fetch it."

The fat boy went into the next room; and having been absent about a minute, returned with the snuff-box, and the palest face that ever a fat boy wore.

"What's the matter with the boy!" exclaimed Wardle.

"Nothen's the matter with me," replied Joe, nervously.

"Have you been seeing any spirits?" inquired the old gentleman.

"Or taking any?" added Ben Allen.

"I think you're right," whispered Wardle across the table. "He is intoxicated, I'm sure."

Ben Allen replied that he thought he was; and as that gentleman had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle was confirmed in an impression which had been hovering about his mind for half an hour, and at once arrived at the conclusion that the fat boy was drunk.

"Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes," murmured Wardle. "We shall soon find out whether he is or not."

The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words with Mr. Snodgrass: that gentleman having implored him to make a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed him out with the snuff-box, lest his prolonged absence should lead to a discovery. He ruminated a little. with a most disturbed expression of face, and left the room in search of Mary.

But Mary had gone home after dressing her mistress, and the fat boy came back again more disturbed than before.


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 Perhaps he did; having just left a pleasant little smoking party of twelve medical students, in a small back parlour with a large fire.

"But I am delighted to see you," said Mr. Ben Allen. "Bless you, Bella!"

"There," said Arabella, bending forward to kiss her brother; "don't take hold of me again, Ben dear, because you tumble me so. At this point of the reconciliation, Mr. Ben Allen allowed his feelings and the cigars and porter to overcome him, and looked round upon the beholders with damp spectacles.

"Is nothing to be said to me?" cried Wardle with open arms.

"A great deal," whispered Arabella, as she received the old gentleman's hearty caress and congratulation. "You are a hard-hearted, unfeeling, cruel, monster!"

"You are a little rebel," replied Wardle, in the same tone, "and I am afraid I shall be obliged to forbid you the house. People like you, who get married in spite of everybody, ought not to be let loose on society. But come!" added the old gentleman aloud, "Here's the dinner; you shall sit by me. Joe; why, damn the boy, he's awake!"

To the great distress of his master, the fat boy was indeed in a state of remarkable vigilance; his eyes being wide open, and looking as if they intended to remain so. There was an alacrity in his manner, too, which was equally unaccountable; every time his eyes met those of Emily or Arabella, he smirked and grinned; once, Wardle could have sworn he saw him wink.

This alteration in the fat boy's demeanour, originated in his increased sense of his own importance, and the dignity he acquired from having been taken into the confidence of the young ladies; and the smirks, and grins, and winks, were so many condescending assurances that they might depend upon his fidelity. As these tokens were rather calculated to awaken suspicion than allay it, and were somewhat embarrassing besides, they were occasionally answered by a frown or shake


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 These were Mr. Wardle, Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle, and Mr. Benjamin Allen, whom he had no difficulty in recognising by their voices.

"Very lucky I had the presence of mind to avoid them," thought Mr. Snodgrass with a smile, and walking on tiptoe to another door near the bedside; "this opens into the same passage, and I can walk, quietly and comfortably, away."

There was only one obstacle to his walking quietly and comfortably away, which was that the door was locked and the key gone.

"Let us have some of your best wine to-day, waiter," said old Wardle, rubbing his hands.

"You shall have some of the very best, sir," replied the waiter.

"Let the ladies know we have come in."

"Yes, sir."

Devoutly and ardently did Mr. Snodgrass wish that the ladies could know he had come in. He ventured once to whisper "Waiter!" through the keyhole, but as the probability of the wrong waiter coming to his relief, flashed upon his mind, together with a sense of the strong resemblance between his own situation and that in which another gentleman had been recently found in a neighbouring hotel (an account of whose misfortunes had appeared under the head of "Police" in that morning's paper), he sat himself on a portmanteau, and trembled violently.

"We won't wait a minute for Perker," said Wardle, looking at his watch; "he is always exact. He will be here, in time, if he means to come; and if he does not, it's of no use waiting. Ha! Arabella!"

"My sister!" exclaimed Mr. Benjamin Allen, folding her in a most romantic embrace.

"Oh, Ben, dear, how you do smell of tobacco," said Arabella, rather overcome by this mark of affection.

"Do I?" said Mr. Benjamin Allen, "Do I, Bella? Well, perhaps I do."


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 Again he looked at the half-crown, and said faintly, "No."

"The ladies want you not to say anything to the old gentleman about the young gentleman having been up stairs; and I want you too."

"Is that all?" said the fat boy, evidently very much relieved as he pocketed the half-crown again. "Of course I ain't a going to."

"You see," said Mary, "Mr. Snodgrass is very fond of Miss Emily, and Miss Emily's very fond of him, and if you were to tell about it, the old gentleman would carry you all away miles into the country, where you'd see nobody."

"No, no, I won't tell," said the fat boy, stoutly.

"That's a dear," said Mary. "Now it's time I went up stairs, and got my lady ready for dinner."

"Don't go yet," urged the fat boy.

"I must," replied Mary. "Good bye, for the present."

The fat boy, with elephantine playfulness, stretched out his arms to ravish a kiss; but as it required no great agility to elude him, his fair enslaver had vanished before he closed them again; upon which the apathetic youth ate a pound or so of steak with a sentimental countenance, and fell fast asleep.

There was so much to say up stairs, and there were so many plans to concert for elopement and matrimony in the event of old Wardle continuing to be cruel, that it wanted only half an hour of dinner when Mr. Snodgrass took his final adieu. The ladies ran to Emily's bedroom to dress, and the lover taking up his hat, walked out of the room. He had scarcely got outside the door, when he heard Wardle's voice talking loudly, and looking over the banisters, beheld him, followed by some other gentlemen, coming straight up stairs. Knowing nothing of the house, Mr. Snodgrass in his confusion stepped hastily back into the room he had just quitted, and passing from thence into an inner apartment (Mr. Wardle's bed-chamber), closed the door softly, just as the persons he had caught a glimpse of, entered the sitting-room.


text: Page:The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems - Longfellow (1846).djvu/152


text: Page:The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems - Longfellow (1846).djvu/153


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/476

 replied with a heavy sigh, and remaining thoughtful for a few moments, drank a long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat he sighed again, and applied himself assiduously to the pie.

"What a nice young lady Miss Emily is!" said Mary, after a long silence.

The fat boy had by this time finished the pie. He fixed his eyes on Mary, and replied:

"I knows a nicerer."

"Indeed!" said Mary.

"Yes, indeed!" replied the fat boy, with unwonted vivacity.

"What's her name?" inquired Mary.

"What's yours?"

"Mary."

"So's hers," said the fat boy. "You're her." The boy grinned to add point to the compliment, and put his eyes into something between a squint and a cast, which there is reason to believe he intended for an ogle.

"You mustn't talk to me in that way," said Mary; "you don't mean it."

"Don't I, though?" replied the fat boy; "I say!"

"Well."

"Are you going to come here regular?"

"No," rejoined Mary, shaking her head, "I'm going away again to-night. Why?"

"Oh!" said the fat boy in a tone of strong feeling; "how we should have enjoyed ourselves at meals, if you had been!"

"I might come here sometimes, perhaps, to see you," said Mary, plaiting the table-cloth in assumed coyness, "if you would do me a favour."

The fat boy looked from the pie-dish to the steak, as if he thought a favour must be in a manner connected with something to eat; and then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it nervously.

"Don't you understand me?" said Mary, looking slyly in his fat face.


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/475

 "He had better have something to eat, immediately," remarked Emily.

The fat boy almost laughed again when he heard this suggestion. Mary, after a little more whispering, tripped forth from the group, and said:

"I am going to dine with you to-day, sir, if no objection."

"This way," said the fat boy, eagerly. "There is such a jolly meat pie!"

With these words, the fat boy led the way down stairs; his pretty companion captivating all the waiters and angering all the chambermaids as she followed him to the eating-room.

There was the meat-pie of which the youth had spoken so feelingly, and there were, moreover, a steak, and a dish of potatoes, and a pot of porter.

"Sit down," said the fat boy. "Oh, my eye, how prime! I am so hungry."

Having apostrophised his eye, in a species of rapture, five or six times, the youth took the head of the little table, and Mary seated herself at the bottom.

"Will you have some of this?" said the fat boy, plunging into the pie up to the very ferules of the knife and fork.

"A little, if you please," replied Mary. The fat boy assisted Mary to a little, and himself to a great deal, and was just going to begin eating when he suddenly laid down his knife and fork, leant forward in his chair, and letting his hands, with the knife and fork in them, fall on his knees, said, very slowly:

"I say! How nice you look!"

This was said in an admiring manner, and was, so far, gratifying; but still there was enough of the cannibal in the young gentleman's eyes to render the compliment a double one.

"Dear me, Joseph," said Mary, affecting to blush, "what do you mean?"

The fat boy gradually recovering his former position,


text: The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems/Curfew


text:
Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/60

48

Though a hundred men attacked him,

And a thousand pressed upon him.”

Unembraced he left the maidens,

And he left them unmolested,

And he turned him to his vessel,

Luckless to his boat he hurried,

But he found it burned to ashes,

Utterly consumed to ashes.

Mischief now he saw approaching,

O’er his head ill days were brooding,

So began to build a vessel,

And a new boat to construct him.

Wood was failing to the craftsman,

Boards with which a boat to fashion,

But he found of wood a little,

Begged some wretched bits of boarding,

Five small splinters of a spindle,

And six fragments of a bobbin.

So from these a boat he fashioned,

And a new boat he constructed,

By his magic art he made it,

With his secret knowledge made it,

Hammered once, one side he fashioned,

Hammered twice, called up the other,

Hammered then a third time only,

And the boat was quite completed.

Then he pushed the boat in water,

On the waves he launched the vessel,

And he spoke the words which follow,

And expressed himself in thiswise:

“Float like bladder on the water,

On the waves like water-lily.

Eagle, give me now three feathers,

Eagle, three, and two from raven,

For the wretched boat’s protection,

For the wretched vessel’s bulwarks.”

Then he stepped upon the planking,

At the stern he took his station,

Head bowed down, in deep depression,

And his cap awry adjusted,

title: Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/60


text: Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/393


text: Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/394


text:
Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/61

Runo XXIX]

Since by night he dare not tarry,

Nor by day could linger longer,

For the island-maidens’ pleasure,

Sporting with unbraided damsels.

Spoke the lively Lemminkainen,

Said the handsome Kaukomieli:

“Now the youth must take departure,

And must travel from these dwellings,

Joyless leave behind these damsels,

Dance no longer with the fair ones.

Surely when I have departed,

And have left this land behind me,

Never will rejoice these damsels,

Nor unbraided girls be jesting,

In their homes so full of sadness,

In the courtyards now so dreary.”

Wept the island girls already,

Damsels at the cape lamented:

“Wherefore goest thou, Lemminkainen,

And departest, hero-bridegroom?

Dost thou go for maidens’ coyness,

Or for scarcity of women?”

Spoke the lively Lemminkainen,

Said the handsome Kaukomieli,

“’Tis not for the maidens’ coyness,

Nor the scarcity of women.

I have had a hundred women,

And embraced a thousand maidens;

Thus departeth Lemminkainen,

Quits you thus your hero-bridegroom,

Since the great desire has seized me,

Longing for my native country,

Longing for my own land’s strawberries,

For the slopes where grow the raspberries,

For the maidens on the headland,

And the poultry of my farmyard.”

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Pushed into the waves the vessel,

Blew the wind, and then it blustered,

Rising waves drove on the vessel

Rh

title: Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/61


text:
Wikisource:WikiProject Film/Drafts/The Battle of the Sexes (film)

User: SnowyCinema

File: The Battle of the Sexes (1928).webm

Author: D. W. Griffith

Publisher: United Artists

Year: 1928

PD: PD/US|film=yes

Note: The film was originally released with a synchronized soundtrack. The survival status, or preservation status, of the soundtrack is unknown, and all versions with sound online use copyrighted soundtracks. So, our version of the film is silent (as it would have aired in silent theaters at the time). If the soundtrack is ever discovered, this transcription may be later updated with any sound elements that are currently missing.

Cat: Comedy film, Silent film

00:05

00:14

00:22

00:30

00:41

00:45

00:56

01:59

02:07

02:22

03:33

04:40

05:29

07:17

10:03

10:14

10:32

11:09

11:21

12:02

12:24

13:17

15:53

16:53

18:13

18:50

19:14

19:28

19:38

19:53

21:39

22:16

22:23

22:34

22:39

23:13

23:20

23:32

23:40

24:16

24:32

24:54

26:51

27:05

27:14

29:35

30:11

30:23

30:45

31:05

31:23

31:36

31:51

32:06

32:37

35:06

36:00

36:13

37:14

37:50

42:02

42:08

42:21

44:02

45:55

46:07

46:52

47:38

48:01

48:45


text: Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/395


text:
Page:The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy (Volume 8).pdf/30

Do not speak it with regard to the coarseness or cleanness of them—or the strength of their gussets—but pray do not night-shifts differ from day-shifts as much in this particular, as in any thing else in the world; That they so far exceed the others in length, that when you are laid down in them, they fall almost as much below the feet, as the day-shifts fall short of them?

Widow Wadman's night-shifts (as was the mode I suppose in King William's and Queen Anne's reigns) were cut however after this fashion; and if the fashion is changed, (for in Italy they are come to nothing)—so much the worse


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/65

 Raddle, pacifically, "but they've the advantage of me in numbers, my dear."

"Ugh, you coward!" replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. "Do you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer?"

"They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going," said the miserable Bob. "I am afraid you'd better go," said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his friends. "I thought you were making too much noise."

"It's a very unfortunate thing," said the prim man. "Just as we were getting so comfortable too!" The prim man was just beginning to have a dawning recollection of the story he had forgotten.

"It's hardly to be borne," said the prim man, looking round. Hardly to be borne, is it?"

"Not to be endured," replied Jack Hopkins; "let's have the other verse, Bob. Come, here goes!"

"No, no, Jack, don't," interposed Bob Sawyer; "it's a capital song, but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. They are very violent people, the people of the house."

"Shall I step up stairs, and pitch into the landlord?" inquired Hopkins, or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the staircase? You may command me, Bob."

"I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good nature, Hopkins," said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, "but I think the best plan to avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once."

"Now, Mr. Sawyer!" screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, "are them brutes going?"

"They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob; "they are going directly."

"Going!" said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her night-cap over the banisters just as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged from the sitting-room. "Going! what did they ever come for?"


text:
Page:The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy (Volume 8).pdf/31

 for the public; they were two Flemish ells and a half in length; so that allowing a moderate woman two ells, she had half an ell to spare, to do what she would with.

Now from one little indulgence gain'd after another, in the many bleak and decemberly nights of a seven years widowhood, things had insensibly come to this pass and for the two last years had got establish'd into one of the ordinances of the bed-chamber—That as soon as Mrs. Wadman was put to bed, and had got her legs stretched down to the bottom of it, of which she always gave Bridget notice—Bridget with all suitable decorum, having first open'd the bed-cloaths at the feet, took hold of the half ell of cloath we are speaking of, and having gently, and


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/64

 thereto, by tumultuous applause, plunged himself at once into "The King, God bless him," which he sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of the "Bay of Biscay," and "A Frog he would." The chorus was the essence of the song; and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he knew best, the effect was very striking indeed.

It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pickwick held up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silence was restored:

"Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling from up stairs."

A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr. Bob Sawyer was observed to turn pale.

"I think I hear it now," said Mr. Pickwick. "Have the goodness to open the door."

The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was removed.

"Mr. Sawyer! Mr. Sawyer!" screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.

"It's my landlady, said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with great dismay. "Yes, Mrs. Raddle."

"What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer?" replied the voice, with great shrillness and rapidity of utterance. "Ain't it enough to be swindled out of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused and insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men: without having the house turned out of window, and noise enough made to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning?—Turn them wretches away."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Mr. Raddle, which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.

"Ashamed of themselves." said Mrs. Raddle. "Why don't you go down and knock 'em every one down stairs? You would if you was a man."

"I should if I was a dozen men, my dear," replied Mr.


text:
Page:The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy (Volume 8).pdf/32

 with both her hands, drawn it downwards to its furthest extension, and then contracted it again side long by four or five even plaits, she took a large corking pin out of her sleeve, and with the point directed towards her, pin'd the plaits all fast together a little above the hem; which done she tuck'd all in tight at the feet, and wish'd her mistress a good night.

This was constant, and without any other variation than this; that on shivering and tempestuous nights, when Bridget untuck'd the feet of the bed, &c. to do this—she consulted no thermometer but that of her own passions; and so performed it standing—kneeling—or squatting, according to the different degrees of faith, hope, and charity, she


text:
Page:Trust Companies Act 2005.pdf/8

8 :(2) No licensed trust company shall, without the prior approval of the Authority, establish a place of business outside Singapore to carry on any business which, if carried on in Singapore, would constitute trust business.

 * (3) Subsection (1) shall not apply to any person specified in the Second Schedule.

 * (4) Any person who contravenes subsection (1) or (2) shall be guilty of an offence and shall be liable on conviction to a fine not exceeding $75,000 or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 3 years or to both and, in the case of a continuing offence, to a further fine not exceeding $7,500 for every day or part thereof during which the offence continues after conviction.

Application for trust business licence

 * 4.—(1) An application for a trust business licence shall—

 * (a) be made to the Authority in such form and manner as the Authority may require; and

 * (b) be accompanied by the prescribed application fee, which shall be non-refundable and which shall be paid in the manner specified by the Authority.

 * (2) The Authority may require an application to furnish it with such information or documents as it considered necessary in relation to the application.

Grant of trust business licence

 * 5.—(1) The Authority shall not grant a trust business licence to an applicant therefor unless the applicant is —

 * (a) a company incorporated under the Companies Act (Cap. 50); or

 * (b) a foreign company registered under Division 2 of Part XI of the Companies Act.

 * (2) A trust business licence shall only be granted if the applicant meets such minimum financial and other requirements as the Authority may prescribe.

 * (3) Subject to regulations made under this Act, where an application is made for the grant of a trust business licence, the Authority may refuse the application if —

title: Page:Trust Companies Act 2005.pdf/8


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/63

 "You shall feel me do it in half a minute, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.

"I request that you'll favour me with your card, sir," said Mr. Noddy.

"I'll do nothing of the kind, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.

"Why not, sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.

"Because you'll stick it up over your chimney-piece, and delude your visitors into the false belief that a gentleman has been to see you, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.

"Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning," said Mr. Noddy.

"Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leave particular directions with the servant to lock up the spoons," replied Mr. Gunter.

At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remonstrated with both parties on the impropriety of their conduct; on which Mr. Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as respectable as Mr. Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied that his father was to the full as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, and that his father's son was as good a man as Mr. Noddy, any day in the week. As this announcement seemed the prelude to a recommencement of the dispute, there was another interference on the part of the company; and a vast quantity of talking and clamouring ensued, in the course of which Mr. Noddy gradually allowed his feelings to overpower him, and professed that he had ever entertained a devoted personal attachment towards Mr. Gunter. To this Mr. Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he rather preferred Mr. Noddy to his own brother; on hearing which admission, Mr. Noddy magnanimously rose from his seat, and proffered his hand to Mr. Gunter. Mr. Gunter grasped it with affecting fervour; and everybody said that the whole dispute had been conducted in a manner which was highly honourable to both parties concerned.

"Now," said Jack Hopkins, "just to set us going again, Bob, I don't mind singing a song." And Hopkins, incited


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/62

 conflict of Bob Sawyer's passions, as depicted in his countenance, "cold water will do very well."

"Oh, admirably," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement," remarked Bob Sawyer with a ghastly smile; "And I fear I must give her warning."

"No, don't," said Ben Allen.

"I fear I must," said Bob with heroic firmness. "I'll pay her what I owe her, and give her warning to-morrow morning."

Poor fellow! how devoutly he wished he could!

Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this last blow, communicated a dispiriting influence to the company, the greater part of whom, with the view of raising their spirits, attached themselves with extra cordiality to the cold brandy and water, the first perceptible effects of which were displayed in a renewal of hostilities between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman in the shirt. The belligerents vented their feelings of mutual contempt, for some time, in a variety of frownings and snortings, until at last the scorbutic youth felt it necessary to come to a more explicit understanding on the matter; when the following clear understanding took place.

"Sawyer," said the scorbutic youth, in a loud voice.

"Well, Noddy," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

"I should be very sorry, Sawyer," said Mr. Noddy, "to create any unpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours, Sawyer—very; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. Gunter that he is no gentleman."

"And I should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance in the street in which you reside," said Mr. Gunter, "but I'm afraid I shall be under the necessity of alarming the neighbours by throwing the person who has just spoken, out o' window."

"What do you mean by that, sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.

"What I say, sir," replied Mr. Gunter.

"I should like to see you do it, sir," said Mr. Noddy.


text:
Page:Works of Charles Dickens, ed. Lang - Volume 2.djvu/61

 "I am sorry you have forgotten it," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancing eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses jingling; "very sorry."

"So am I," responded the prim man, "because I know it would have afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage to recollect it, in the course of halfan-hour or so."

The prim man arrived at this point, just as the glasses came back, when Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the whole time, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so far as it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had ever heard.

The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of equanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with his landlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.

"Now, Betsy," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing, at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl had collected in the centre of the table: "now, Betsy, the warm water; be brisk, there's a good girl."

"You can't have no warm water," replied Betsy.

"No warm water!" exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.

"No," said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a more decided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed. "Missis Raddle said you warn't to have none."

The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted new courage to the host.

"Bring up the warm water instantly—instantly!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with desperate sternness.

"No. I can't," replied the girl; "Missis Raddle raked out the kitchen fire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle."

"Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don't disturb yourself about such a trifle," said Mr. Pickwick, observing the


text: Page:The Hind and the Panther - Dryden (1687).djvu/74


text:
Page:UN Treaty Series - vol 238.pdf/124

 114

 * (b) An alien applying for a visa as a nonimmigrant treaty trader under the provisions of section 101 (a) (15) (E) (i) of the Act shall be required to present any evidence deemed necessary by the consular officer to establish that he is entitled to nonimmigrant classification under that section. Such alien shall establish specifically that:

 * (1) He is proceeding to the United States solely for the purpose of carrying on substantial trade principally between the United States and the foreign state of which he is a national, under and in pursuance of the provisions of a treaty of commerce and navigation between the United States and such foreign state. In this connection, bank statements, invoices, and correspondence from persons or organizations with whom or with which he has, and will have, commercial relations, may be required:

 * (2) He intends in good faith, and will be able, to depart from the United States upon the termination of his states: and that

 * (3) If he is employed or to be employed, his employer shall be a foreign person or organization and he shall be engaged in duties of a supervisory or executive character, or if he is, or is to be, employed in a minor capacity, he has special qualifications which make his services essential to the efficient operations of the employer. An alien employed solely in a manual capacity shall not be entitled to classification as a treaty trader.

 * (b) An alien applying for a visa as a nonimmigrant under the prevision of section 101 (a) (15) (E) (i) of the Act shall be required to present any evidence deemed necessary by the consular officer to establish that he is entitled to nonimmigrant classification under that section. Such alien shall establish specifically that:

 * (1) He seeks to enter the United States solely for the purpose of developing and directing the operations of an enterprise in the United States: (i) In which he has invested, or is actively in the process of investing, a substantial amount of capital; or (ii) in which his employer has invested, or is actively in the process of investing, a substantial amount of capital: Provided, That such employer is a foreign person or organization of the same nationality as the applicant and that the applicant is employed by such person or organization in a responsible capacity; or

 * (2) He seeks to enter the United States as the spouse or child of an alien described in subparagraph (1) of this paragraph; and

 * (3) He is not applying for a nonimmigrant visa in an effort to evade the quota or other restrictions which are applicable to immigrants;

 * (4) He intends in good faith, and will be able, to depart from the United States upon the termination of his status; and

 * (5) The enterprise is one which actually exists or is in active process of formation, and is not a fictitious paper operation.

No. 3356

title: Page:UN Treaty Series - vol 238.pdf/124


text:
Page:Constitution of India (9 Sep 2020).pdf/177

{|
 * style="width: 35%" style="text-align: center"|Name
 * style="wideth: 65%;" style="text-align: center"|Territories
 * style="width: 35%"| Amendment) Act, 1960] [and the territories specified in subsection (1) of section 3, section 4 and sub-section (1) of section 5 of the Punjab Reorganisation Act, 1966.]
 * style="width: 35%"| [12.] Rajasthan
 * style="width: 65%"|The territories specified in section 10 of the States Reorganisation Act, 1956 [but excluding the territories specified in the First Schedule to the Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh (Transfer of Territories) Act, 1959].
 * style="width: 35%"| [13.] Uttar Pradesh
 * style="width: 65%"| [The territories which immediately before the commencement of this Constitution were either comprised in the Province known as the United Provinces or were being administered as if they formed part of that Province, the territories specified in clause (b) of sub-section (1) of section 3 of the Bihar and Uttar Pradesh (Alteration of Boundaries) Act, 1968, and the territories specified in clause (b) of sub-section (1) of section 4 of the Haryana and Uttar Pradesh (Alteration of Boundaries) Act, 1979, but excluding the territories specified in clause (a) of sub-section (1) of section 3 of the Bihar and Uttar Pradesh (Alteration of Boundaries) Act, 1968, [and the territories specified in section 3 of the Uttar Pradesh Reorganisation Act, 2000] and the territories specified in clause (a) of sub-section (1) of section 4 of the Haryana and Uttar Pradesh (Alteration of Boundaries) Act, 1979.]
 * style="width: 35%"| [14.] West Bengal
 * style="width: 65%"|The territories which immediately before the commencement of this Constitution were either comprised in the Province of West Bengal or were being administered as if they formed part of that Province and the territory of Chandernagore as defined in clause (c) of section 2 of the Chandernagore (Merger) Act, 1954 and also the territories specified in sub-section (1) of section 3 of the Bihar and West Bengal (Transfer of Territories) Act, 1956 [and also the territories referred to in Part III of the First Schedule but excluding the territories referred to in Part III of the Second Schedule to the Constitution (One Hundredth Amendment) Act, 2015, notwithstanding anything contained in clause (c) of section 3 of the Constitution (Ninth Amendment) Act, 1960, so far as it relates to the territories referred to in Part III of the First Schedule and the territories referred to in Part III of the Second Schedule to the Constitution (One Hundredth Amendment) Act, 2015.]
 * style="width: 35%"| [ [**]]
 * style="width: 65%"|***]]
 * }
 * style="width: 35%"| [14.] West Bengal
 * style="width: 65%"|The territories which immediately before the commencement of this Constitution were either comprised in the Province of West Bengal or were being administered as if they formed part of that Province and the territory of Chandernagore as defined in clause (c) of section 2 of the Chandernagore (Merger) Act, 1954 and also the territories specified in sub-section (1) of section 3 of the Bihar and West Bengal (Transfer of Territories) Act, 1956 [and also the territories referred to in Part III of the First Schedule but excluding the territories referred to in Part III of the Second Schedule to the Constitution (One Hundredth Amendment) Act, 2015, notwithstanding anything contained in clause (c) of section 3 of the Constitution (Ninth Amendment) Act, 1960, so far as it relates to the territories referred to in Part III of the First Schedule and the territories referred to in Part III of the Second Schedule to the Constitution (One Hundredth Amendment) Act, 2015.]
 * style="width: 35%"| [ [**]]
 * style="width: 65%"|***]]
 * }
 * }


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text:
Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v2.djvu/62

50

O’er the blue lake’s shining surface,

And across the open water.

On the beach there stood the sad ones,

On the shingles the unhappy,

And the island girls were weeping,

And the golden maids lamenting.

Wept for long the island-maidens,

Damsels on the cape lamented,

Long as they could see the masthead,

And the ironwork was gleaming,

But they wept not for the masthead,

Nor bewailed the iron fittings,

By the mast they wept the steersman,

He who wrought the iron fittings.

Lemminkainen too was weeping,

Long he wept, and long was saddened,

Long as he could see the island,

Or the outline of its mountains;

But he wept not for the island,

Nor lamented for the mountains,

But he wept the island-damsels,

For the mountain geese lamented.

Then the lively Lemminkainen

O’er the blue lake took his journey,

And he voyaged one day, a second,

And at length upon the third day

Rose a furious wind against him,

And the whole horizon thundered.

Rose a great wind from the north-west,

And a strong wind from the north-east,

Struck one side and then the other,

Thus the vessel overturning.

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Plunged his hands into the water,

Rowing forward with his fingers,

While his feet he used for steering.

Thus he swam by night and daytime

And with greatest skill he steered him,

And a little cloud perceived he,

In the west a cloud projecting,

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 multitudes; but I daresay one or two rogues of his acquaintance would keep him company for a mile or so on the south road, and drink a bottle with him before they turned. For banished people, in those days, seem to have set out on their own responsibility, in their own guard, and at their own expense. It was no joke to make one's way from Paris to Roussillon alone and penniless in the fifteenth century. Villon says he left a rag of his tails on every bush. Indeed, he must have had many a weary tramp, many a slender meal, and many a to-do with blustering captains of the Ordonnance. But with one of his light fingers, we may fancy that he took as good as he gave; for every rag of his tail, he would manage to indemnify himself upon the population in the shape of food, or wine, or ringing money; and his route would be traceable across France and Burgundy by housewives and inn-keepers lamenting over petty thefts, like the track of a single human locust. A strange figure he must have cut in the eyes of the good country people: this ragged, blackguard city poet, with a smack of the Paris student, and a smack of the Paris street arab, posting along the highways, in rain or sun, among the green fields and vineyards. For himself, he had no taste for rural loveliness; green


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 fields and vineyards would be mighty indifferent to Master Francis; but he would often have his tongue in his cheek at the simplicity of rustic dupes, and often, at city gates, he might stop to contemplate the gibbet with its swinging bodies, and hug himself on his escape.

How long he stayed at Roussillon, how far he became the protégé of the Bourbons, to whom that town belonged, or when it was that he took part, under the auspices of Charles of Orleans, in a rhyming tournament to be referred to once again in the pages of the present volume, are matters that still remain in darkness, in spite of M. Longnon's diligent rummaging among archives. When we next find him, in summer 1461, alas! he is once more in durance: this time at Méun-sur-Loire, in the prisons of Thibault d'Aussigny, Bishop of Orleans. He had been lowered in a basket into a noisome pit, where he lay, all summer, gnawing hard crusts and railing upon fate. His teeth, he says, were like the teeth of a rake: a touch of haggard portraiture all the more real for being excessive and burlesque, and all the more proper to the man for being a caricature of his own misery. His eyes were "bandaged with thick walls." It might blow hurricanes overhead; the lightning might leap in high heaven; but no word of all this reached him in his noisome pit. "Il


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 n'entre, ou gist, n'escler ni tourbillon." Above all, he was fevered with envy and anger at the freedom of others; and his heart flowed over into curses as he thought of Thibault d'Aussigny, walking the streets in God's sunlight, and blessing people with extended fingers. So much we find sharply lined in his own poems. Why he was cast again into prison—how he had again managed to shave the gallows—this we know not, nor, from the destruction of authorities, are we ever likely to learn. But on October 2d, 1461, or some day immediately preceding, the new King, Louis Eleventh, made his joyous entry into Méun. Now it was a part of the formality on such occasions for the new King to liberate certain prisoners; and so the basket was let down into Villon's pit, and hastily did Master Francis scramble in, and was most joyfully hauled up, and shot out, blinking and tottering, but once more a free man, into the blessed sun and wind. Now or never is the time for verses! Such a happy revolution would turn the head of a stocking-weaver, and set him jingling rhymes. And so—after a voyage to Paris, where he finds Montigny and De Cayeux clattering, their bones upon the gibbet, and his three pupils roystering in Paris streets, "with their thumbs under their girdles,"—down sits Master Francis to write his Large


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 Testament, and perpetuate his name in a sort of glorious ignominy.

Of this capital achievement and, with it, of Villon's style in general, it is here the place to speak. The Large Testament is a hurly-burly of cynical and sentimental reflections about life, jesting legacies to friends and enemies, and, interspersed among these many admirable ballades, both serious and absurd. With so free a design, no thought that occurred to him would need to be dismissed without expression; and he could draw at full length the portrait of his own bedevilled soul, and of the bleak and blackguardly world which was the theatre of his exploits and sufferings. If the reader can conceive something between the slap-dash inconsequence of Byron's Don Juan and the racy humorous gravity and brief noble touches that distinguish the vernacular poems of Burns, he will have formed some idea of Villon's style. To the latter writer—except in the ballades, which are quite his own, and can be paralleled from no other language known to me—he bears a particular resemblance. In common with Burns he has a certain rugged compression, a brutal vivacity of epithet, a homely vigour, a delight in local personalities, and an interest in many sides


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Runo XXIX]

Which to solid land was changing,

And became a promontory.

On the cape he found a homestead,

Where he found the mistress baking,

And her daughters dough were kneading.

“O thou very gracious mistress,

If you but perceived my hunger,

Thought upon my sad condition,

You would hurry to the storehouse,

To the alehouse like a snowstorm,

And a can of ale would fetch me,

And a strip of pork would fetch me,

In the pan would broil it for me,

And would pour some butter on it,

That the weary man might eat it,

And the fainting hero drink it.

Nights and days have I been swimming

Out upon the broad lake’s billows,

With the wind as my protector,

At the mercy of the lake-waves.”

Thereupon the gracious mistress

Hastened to the mountain storehouse,

Sliced some butter in the storehouse,

And a slice of pork provided,

In the pan thereafter broiled it,

That the hungry man might eat it.

Then she fetched of ale a canful,

For the fainting hero’s drinking,

And she gave him a new vessel,

And a boat completely finished,

Which to other lands should take him,

And convey him to his birthplace.

Then the lively Lemminkainen

Started on his homeward journey,

Saw the lands and saw the beaches,

Here the islands, there the channels,

Saw the ancient landing-stages,

Saw the former dwelling-places,

And he saw the pine-clad mountains,

All the hills with fir-trees covered,

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 of life, that are often despised and passed over by more effete and cultured poets. Both also, in their strong, easy colloquial way, tend to become difficult and obscure; the obscurity in the case of Villon passing at times into the absolute darkness of cant language. They are perhaps the only two great masters of expression who keep sending their readers to a glossary.

"Shall we not dare to say of a thief," asks Montaigne, "that he has a handsome leg?" It is a far more serious claim that we have to put forward in behalf of Villon. Beside that of his contemporaries, his writing, so full of colour, so eloquent, so picturesque, stands out in an almost miraculous isolation. If only one or two of the chroniclers could have taken a leaf out of his book, history would have been a pastime, and the fifteenth century as present to our minds as the age of Charles Second. This gallows-bird was the one great writer of his age and country, and initiated modern literature for France. Boileau, long ago, in the period of perukes and snuff-boxes, recognised him as the first articulate poet in the language; and if we measure him, not by priority of merit, but living duration of influence, not on a comparison with obscure forerunners, but with great and famous successors, we shall instal this ragged and disreputable figure in a far higher


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 niche in glory's temple than was ever dreamed of by the critic. It is, in itself, a memorable fact that, before 1542, in the very dawn of printing, and while modern France was in the making, the works of Villon ran through seven different editions. Out of him flows much of Rabelais; and through Rabelais, directly and indirectly, a deep, permanent, and growing inspiration. Not only his style, but his callous pertinent way of looking upon the sordid and ugly sides of life, becomes every day a more specific feature in the literature of France. And only the other year, a work of some power appeared in Paris, and appeared with infinite scandal, which owed its whole inner significance and much of its outward form to the study of our rhyming thief.

The world to which he introduces us is, as before said, blackguardly and bleak. Paris swarms before us, full of famine, shame, and death; monks and the servants of great lords hold high wassail upon cakes and pastry; the poor man licks his lips before the baker's window; people with patched eyes sprawl all night under the stalls; chuckling Tabary transcribes an improper romance; bare-bosomed lasses and ruffling students swagger in the streets; the drunkard goes stumbling homewards; the graveyard is full of bones; and away on Montfaucon, Colin de Cayeux and Montigny