text:
Page:Sanzō Nosaka - A Brief Review of the Labour Movement in Japan (1921).pdf/36

Although at a glance the present situation of the Trade Union movement in Japan seems very confused and Jack of unification, in reality the condition is not so. A few Unions are by far predominant in membership and tower over others, and are always leading the whole movement; above all, the Yuai-kai stands unparalleled. Next come Shinyu-kai, Seishin-kai (both printers), Transport Workers Union, Osaka Iron Workers Union, and a few other Unions which affiliate to, the Federation of Trade Unions both in Tokyo and Osaka.

The Trade Union is specially concentrated in certain districts and ndustriesindustries [sic]. Roughly speaking, there are five busy industrial centres in Japan: (a) Tokyo and Yokohama district, (b) Osaka and Kobe district, (c) Fukuoka district, and (e) Okaya district.

(a) Tokyo and Yokohama district is not only the political and intellectual center of Japan, but also stands at the head of development of the modern industry: it is always in this area that we find the most advanced section of the Trade Unions, as well the: energetic Socialist and Communist movement. The important Unions in this district are, as I said before, united in the Federation of Trade Unions in Tokyo.

(b) Osaka surpasses Tokyo in number of factories and employees, but they are largely composed of the textile and small industries, hiring a great number of women. The Trade Union and political movement is far backward after Tokyo. The main Unions are loosely combined in the Western Federation of Trade Unions. Kobe, the greatest commercial port, stands out, there is only single Union—the district committee of Yuai-kai—which is trying to include the whole of organised workers (chiefly of ship-building) in that city.

(c) Industrially, Fukuoka is young, but is to be in future a great industrial center in Southern districts, possessing the vast coal fields in its area.

(d) Nagoya is the city of earthern and textile. It is of recent date that the Trade Union movement was started.


text:
Page:Sanzō Nosaka - A Brief Review of the Labour Movement in Japan (1921).pdf/37

 (e) Okaya is the center of the silk industry and also of the working woman slavery. We never heard of the existence of a Trade Union in the district.

(a) Metal industry: The Trade Union in the engineering, iron, steel, shipbuilding surpasses other industries in number, power and discipline; the destiny of the proletarian revolution in Japan largely rests on this section of workers. The following are the important Unions Metal workers' sections of Yuai-kai (in Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe, Fukuoka, etc.); Artisans' Fraternal Society, Artisans' society, Koishikawa Labour Society, Engineers' Union of Japan, (above four in Tokyo); Osaka Iron Workers' Union, Copper workers' Union, (in Osaka); Labour Fraternal Society in Fukuoka.

(b) Printing industry: The Japanese printing workers are the most revolutionary section of the working classes. Numerically not large, but spiritually they are in the van. Shinyu-kai, Seishin-kai, Taishin-kai, (above in Tokyo and Yokohama) Printers' Union in Osaka, Kobe, Nagoya, etc.

(c) Mining industry: The miners are a powerfully organised body. Almost all organised miners belong to the All Japanese Miners' Federation which affiliates to Yuai-kai.

(d) Transport: There is a deadlock for organising the railwaymen, for all railways were nationalised in 1906 and the employees are controlled so bureaucratically—by means of the Station Committee akin to the British Whitley Council—that the real proletarian Union can not penetrate in this section. The only real Union is the Engine Drivers' Union. Workers in the tramways are making their own Union in the important cities. In Tokyo the Transport Workers' Union is most powerful.

The seamen have also a great number of organisations, but they are for the most part nothing more than labour exchanges or, friendly societies. The Seamen's Union of Japan (of Yuai-kai) is the strongest. The leading Unions are federated by the Japanese Seamen's Union.

Among carriers, dockers, stevedors, rikishaw-men, and other out-door workers, there are already a comparatively great number of associations. Free labours' Union, Rikishaw-men's Union in Tokyo, Osaka Stevedore and Carriers' Union in Osaka. As a rule, this section of workers represents the yellow type of Union.

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


text:
Page talk:A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains (1879).djvu/180

Page source unreadable
Probably due to a bug in MediaWiki-PDF, as seen on page 154: Page:Plato (IA platocollins00colliala).pdf/166. Text for this proofread version of page 152 was copied and pasted from downloaded epub format from Google Books copy. Stamlou (talk) 16:08, 29 September 2023 (UTC)


text:
Page:Sanzō Nosaka - A Brief Review of the Labour Movement in Japan (1921).pdf/38

 (e) Textile industry: In this industry we have hardly seen any Union except those of Yuai-kai in Tokyo.

(f) Agriculture: Farm labourers remain indifferent to the labour movement. But recently a wide agitation for organisation against the landowner has been in progress. Labourers and Peasants Society and Tenant Farmers' Union are known.

(g) Brain Workers: Keimei-kai, one of the most interesting Unions is succeeding in combining the teachers of elementary school. Salary Men's Union is a body of poor middle classes,

(h) Female workers: Woman labourers lack the organisation, except a few bodies of Yuai-kai in Tokyo.

It is rather a curious feature that the structure of Craft Unionism is not very popular among the Japanese workers, and the existing Unions are for the most. part constructed on the unit of factory committee, including all grades of the employees. But it is inevitable in such an immature state that the members are in fact chiefly composed of the skilled workers.

Among the rest, the „Yuai-kai“ or the „General Federation of Labour of Japan, Yuai-kai“ occupies a peculiar position in the Trade Union structure. Accordingly, it will be well to glance briefly at its constitution and strength. At the last Conference, it determined to become a federal body of Unions of Federations which are organised on the basis either of industry, trade, workshop or area, regardless of craft or skill. All units enjoy es a rule a great deal of autonomy. But in practice the Yuai-kai is more strongly united than a mere Federation. The Central Committee (elected at the Conference) has not only the right to order strikes of all affiliated bodies, but is always interfering in important businesses of the Unions. Where Unions or Branches are massed, there is a Local Committee (Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe, Kyoto, etc.). From the administrative point, the country is divided into three wide District Committees (Eastern, Western, Kyushu) and two Industrial sections (All Japanese Miners' Federation and Seamen's Union of Japan). At the present moment, it includes several industries and trades: iron, steel, shipbuilding, mining, shipping, textile and miscellaneous trades (tailoring, building, gum-producing, etc.). It claims 30,000


text:
Page:Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal Vol 34, Part 1.djvu/163

1865.] Notes on the Gurjat State of Patna. 101 Notes on the Gurjat State of Patna.-By Major H. B. IMPEY, Deputy Commissioner of Sumbulpore.

[Received 18th October, 1864.]

The following sketch of the history of the Gurjat state of Patna is founded upon the records, genealogical trees, and traditions maintained by successive Rajahs. Although there may be errors in the calculation of periods, and mistakes in the incidence of events, yet, considering how all natives of pretension or position strive to keep up a remembrance of their ancestors through the services of Brahmins, and how strictly they themselves cherish the links of private history (as for instance, the custom of the Hindus to religiously pronounce the names of their preceding generations, while engaged in their ablutions,) it may be assumed that such records and links, when adjusted by their circumstantial data, as in this case, will generally form a pretty correct chain of evidence in respect to main facts.

Origin of the Maharajahs.—The Maharajahs of Patna claim direct descent from a race of Rajpoot Rajahs of Gurh Sumbul, near Mynpooree, and count back the individuals of this race for 32 generations.

Foundation of one state, Patna, from a cluster of eight Gurhs.—It is narrated that these Rajahs used to be in constant attendance at the Court of Dehli till the last named Hutumber Singh having intrigued and run off with one of the king's daughters, was pursued and killed, and his family forced to fly. Amongst the wives of this Rajah was one who, escaping, arrived enciente, in Patna, and found refuge with the chief of Khobagurh, being one of eight gurhs,* which at that time, alone formed the territories of Patna, being comprised within the three rivers Ung, Mahanuddy, and Sel, and bounded on the west by Khurriar, (a possession then of Jaypoor), and Bindanawagurh and the chiefs of which took it in turns, a day at a time, to * 1 Patna.

2 Salabhata.

3 Kongaon.

4 Jhonrasinga.

5 Sindeehala.

6 Kolagurh.

7 Gooragurh.

8 Boonnagurh.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/307

 would I call in at Mortover Grange and just see if Mr. Philip got home all safe the other night, 'cause she'd been very anxious about him."

"What night was that?" asked Wedgwood. "Last night?"

"No—night before that, sir! He was up there at the Drovers' Arms while late—I saw him there, myself—in fact, I saw him set off home. He would go—though the storm was getting bad then, and Mrs. Baxter I heard her praying on him not to go out in—she was pressing on him to stay the night there. But he wouldn't—he wouldn't hear a word fro' nobody, and out into the storm he flung."

"Been drinking, I suppose?" suggested Wedgwood, giving the man a significant look.

"Why, he'd had plenty, mister," assented the messenger. "I'd heard Mrs. Baxter tell him so, not so long before he flung out. I think that had set his back up, d'ye see—so that he wouldn't listen to her when she begged him to stay the night and go to bed there and then. He'd a queer temper if he were crossed or affronted."

"What time would it be when he left the Drovers' Arms?" asked Wedgwood.

"Getting on to closing time—ten o'clock," replied the man.


text:
Page:Ferdinand Lassalle - Lassalle's Open Letter to the National Labor Association of Germany - tr. John Ehmann and Fred Bader (1879).djvu/31

 men, the central point of help and protection, holding the smaller associations in hand by a series of functionaryism: This is the natural and legitimate purpose of the State: operating by supervision over each subordinate association as each subordinate association does toward its members.

But how enable the State to make this intervention?

The answer is clear: It is possible only through universal and direct suffrage.

When the law making body of Germany owes its existence to the popular vote, then, and only then will you be able to control the Government in the interest of labor.

When this element of popular power shall have been introduced and the law-making power be the result, then the necessary forms and measures of the intervention, may be discussed; and, backed by reason and science, men who understand your condition, and who are devoted to your cause will defend your interests. Then, too, the class without means will have to ascribe, all disastrous elections to themselves, finding their representatives in the minority.

Universal and direct suffrage, as has been shown, is the foundation of your political and social life: the basic principle of all self-help, and without which the condition of the workingman cannot be bettered.

Now, how to succeed in securing universal direct suffrage:

Cast a glance at England! For more than five years did the English people agitate against the corn laws; and so earnest and general was the agitation that they were abolished even by a Tory ministry. In like manner you workingmen of Germany must organize as a universal workingmen's association, peacefully but untiringly demanding continual agitation for the introduction of the universal and direct right of suffrage throughout all German countries—And mark my words: at the moment this combined movement reaches 100,000 members, it will. be an acknowledged power in the land and already a factor affecting the legislative bodies. Raise this cry in every workshop, in every village, in every hut. Let the city workman, with their deeper insight and higher culture, pour into the ear of their brethern of the rural districts, by debates and speeches their knowledge and experience, till mechanic and agricultural laborer, joining in the chorus of demands, compel the Government to grant the right insisted on.


text:
Page:The Gnostic Heresies of the First and Second Centuries.pdf/139

THE OPHITE SECTS. their consequences, not in themselves), and must annihilate the idea of sin, which is not a consequence, but a transgression of God's law. Let no philosophy be trusted, however tempting its promises, however great its apparent success, which does not distinctly recognise the two great correlative ideas of a personal God, and a personal, that is, a free-willing, man. With these, its efforts, however feeble, may be true as far as they go; without these, its most brilliant seeming achievements are at the bottom a mockery and an imposture.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/308

 "And the night was pretty bad?"

"It were bad enough for me, mister, and my road home from there is pretty plain sailing! It would be worse down this way. And it depends, of course, which way he took, to come home by. If he came down the road, same that I've fared by this morning, he could have got through, likely, if he hadn't tumbled into a ditch by the roadside. But if he went t'other way"—he stopped, shaking his head. "Bad enough on any dark night is that way," he said, "but in a storm like this"

"What way's that?" asked Wedgwood.

The man turned from the door and pointed up the valley towards the range of hills on its further side.

"You see right up yonder, mister, where there's a cleft in the hillside, and the top of a house standing clear against the sky?" he asked. "That's the Drovers' Arms—the highroad from Harslow to Ruxton crosses there. Well, the short cut here is from just behind the inn all along that hillside—nothing more than a bridlepath, it is, and needs care in following it at night. And there's old quarries all along there—old, disused stone-quarries. In this snow"

"He could easily have fallen over?" said Wedgwood. "Is that it?"


text: Index:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/309

 The man gave him a meaning glance.

"It's a difficult path for a sober man, that, mister," he answered. "And as I said before, he'd had plenty when he left Mrs. Baxter's."

"Where are you going, now?" enquired Wedgwood.

"Further down the valley," said the man.

"What's it like—on the road, out there? Can one get along!"

"Why, if you don't mind a bit of a struggle with it, you can! It's not so bad down here as it is higher up."

Wedgwood made himself ready and succeeded in reaching the highroad. Under his companion's guidance he got to a point where there was a long view down the road towards Netherwell, and there, pausing to rest awhile, he was aware of three dark figures slowly coming along in his direction. He pointed them out to the drover, who, sharper of eye than himself, glanced at them and let out one sharp word.

"Police!"

Wedgwood ploughed his way further along, and eventually made out the figures of the Netherwell Superintendent and two stout constables; far down the road behind them, he saw what he guessed to be a motor-car. Presently the Superintendent recognized him and waved his hand.


text:
Page:Ferdinand Lassalle - Lassalle's Open Letter to the National Labor Association of Germany - tr. John Ehmann and Fred Bader (1879).djvu/32

 By debate and discussion, daily, and without cessation, was the great English agitation a success; by the same means alone will universal suffrage be gained in Germany. The more the echo of your voices is heard, the less will be the opposition to the pressure. And as auxilliary to your movement, found treasuries to which every member of the association must contribute to defray expenses of plans of organization.

Along with these treasuries—which, despite the smallness of the contribution, will form a power for agitation purposes, enabling you to have the daily papers to repeat the same demands, proving the rightfulnesss of your claims to deliverance from our present social condition.

Spread with the same means pamphlets. Also pay agents to carry the same views into every corner of the nation that the cry may reach the heart of every workingman, every householder, every agricultural laborer. Pay out of these moans to all such workingmen who may suffer persecution and injury because of their activity in the cause. Let your voices continually be heard; in season and out of season; perpetual, never tiring; in place and out of place: a continual presence, compelling men to listen. The more repeated the more it will spread, and become mighty in the land.

All the art of practical success is contained in the secret to concentrate force at one spot, the vital and important point. In your propaganda look neither to the left side nor to the right. Be deaf to all but universal and direct suffrage or that which is connected with it and that leads to it.

When you have really established in the national mind this demand, and which in a few years you may succeed in doing through the 89 to 96 per cent. of the population which constitutes the proportion of the poorer classes in society, then will your wishes no longer be sought to be withheld. The Government may quarrel and struggle over political rights with the Bourgeoisie. They may even refuse you political rights; deny you even under the ordinary pressure felt in political legislation, the right of suffrage. But a question brought before Parliament backed by 89 to 96 per cent. of the people clamoring for its passage as a bill: a question affecting the national life: a question of stomach and brains, and hot with the vitalities of both, no power can long withstand. Gentlemen, no authority can resist this.


text:
Page:Ferdinand Lassalle - Lassalle's Open Letter to the National Labor Association of Germany - tr. John Ehmann and Fred Bader (1879).djvu/33

 Universal and direct suffrage!

This is the sign and symbol by which you conquer. There is no other for you.

FERDINAND LASSALLE.

Berlin, March 1, 1863.


text: Page:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu/43


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/310

 "Heard anything?" asked Wedgwood as they met. "I mean—since last night?"

The Superintendent, panting from his exertions, nodded.

"A man came in from these parts this morning," he answered, "with a story of having seen that housekeeper at Mortover Grange and a gentleman on a lonely part of the moor, near the new colliery works, night before last, lost, and uncertain about their way—they wanted to get back to the Grange. He told them as best he could, but yesterday, he says, the postman who had made his way to the Grange during the morning, told him that a young woman there had told him that Mrs. Clagne and a gentleman she had gone out with the night before had never returned. So this man, my informant, thought we ought to know, and I set out with these two men—our car's stuck, down yonder—snow's too deep to get further. What's your news?"

"Pretty much what yours is," said Wedgwood. "Mr. Levigne and Mrs. Clagne left Mortover Grange night before last at five o'clock: they were to return at eight. They never did: they've never been heard of since. And young Mortover is missing, too—this man's just brought some news of him." He retailed the drover's account of Philip. "What's to be


text: Page:Ferdinand Lassalle - Lassalle's Open Letter to the National Labor Association of Germany - tr. John Ehmann and Fred Bader (1879).djvu/34


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/311

 done?" he asked. "Something's happened to all three of them, of course!"

"Doesn't the girl at the Grange know where Levigne and Mrs. Clagne were going?" asked the Superintendent. "Hasn't she any idea?"

"Not a notion! But I have!" replied Wedgwood. "From what she says, Levigne and Mrs. Clagne had been squabbling or quarrelling all the afternoon, evidently about business matters. She—this girl—saw papers. She says they seemed to come to some agreement about tea-time, and went out. My belief is that they went somewhere to get somebody to witness signatures—there are houses in the neighbourhood. Then they got caught in the storm, returning. They may be snow-bound—it's waist-high round Mortover Grange."

The Superintendent turned, looking back in the direction of his car.

"If they'd been merely snow-bound in some house hereabouts they'd have contrived to let that girl know," he said. "No—there's been some accident—in both cases. The only thing is search. There's a roadside inn down yonder—the Coach and Four. We'd better get back there, and see about getting some of the men of the neighbourhood to look round and enquire—they'll know their way about better than we shall. We shall find plenty of them, too, down


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/312

 there at the inn I guess—they can't work, this weather."

In this supposition the Superintendent was right; the inn was filled with men, enforcedly idle. Many of them were men working on the sinking of the new colliery; some of them were workers in the adjacent stone-quarries. All were dwellers in the neighbourhood, and the Superintendent began to make enquiries amongst them as to any news of Levigne and Janet Clagne.

None of these men had seen either on the night in question, though both were well-known to all. One man spoke to seeing Levigne earlier in the day; he had passed him, riding in a cab, he said, on the road going towards Mortover Grange. But as to the evening and the night that followed it nobody could say anything: the storm had kept folk indoors.

"Is there any idea as to where they might have gone when they set out from the Grange, mister?" a man asked of Wedgwood, who had explained what he knew of the missing persons' movements. "If us fellows had a notion of that, now"

"They might have gone to Mr. Malcolmson's," replied Wedgwood. "Where does he live?"

"If you'll come outside, on the road, I'll


text:
Page:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu/113

 An ingenious and exact Account of it has been given by Dr. Wotton in a Latin Treatise, entitled, ''Linguarum Vett. Septentrionatium Thesauri Grammatico Critici, & Archæologici, Auctore, Conspectus Brevis'', which very well deserves to be reprinted, since I hear it is very scarce. As to the Thesaurus itself, which can produce as many Testimonies of learned Men in its Praise, as perhaps any Book has receiv'd that has ever been printed; yet it hath not indeed escaped the undeserved Censure of some Men, as being defective in some things: but I, who have had occasion strictly to peruse it, believe upon due Reflection, and a nearer Inspection into the Work, its most severe Censurers, will find reason rather to complain of their own, than of the Author's Mistakes. However in a Work of so great bulk, illustrating so many Languages, it cannot be conceived, but that some things, might well escape the greatest Care, and exactest Judgment: The Author would be glad could she promise herself to have given as few occasions of blame in this little Book.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/313

 show you," answered the man. He led Wedgwood and the Superintendent to the front of the inn and pointed across the valley to a low ridge of hillside that rose beyond the works of the colliery. "Do you see a house up yonder, edge of a wood?" he asked. "That's Malcolmson's! A roughish way it 'ud be, too, that night—either going there or coming back—worse, of course, coming back, if they bided there any length of time. It started to be real bad that night between six and seven."

"How do you get up there?" asked the Superintendent.

"Well, from Mortover Grange you'd go up a lane that cuts across where they're making the new coal-pit," replied the man. "Malcolmson's house lies right behind the new works—overlooks 'em. Of course that lane's choked with snow—still, you could make your way there, with a bit o' discomfort."

The Superintendent turned back into the inn, and getting the men together, invited them to form search parties amongst themselves and to scour the districts in which Levigne and Janet Clagne in one direction and Philip Mortover in another had last been heard of. He had no difficulty in getting a ready response; in a few moments various parties were off, and he and Wedgwood essayed the climb up the hillside


text:
Page:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu/44

is the Art of Speaking and Writing, truly and properly. Speaking we use certain Signs, which are necessary to discover our Thoughts to one another. These Signs, are Sound, and Voice.

But besides, Sound, and Voice, by which we are able to converse with one another when present; There are other Signs have been invented, where these Sounds cannot be heard, to supply the want of them in such manner, as that we may both canverse with one another at a distance, and communicate our Thoughts to future Ages.

The first of these Signs belongs properly to Speech, or unwritten Discourse. The latter are made use of in Writing.

Hence the Greeks, from whom we receiv'd the first Rudiments of this Art, have deliver'd down to us the


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/314

 to the manager's house. They reached it with difficulty—and heard news. Levigne and Janet Clagne had visited Malcolmson about six o'clock on the night before last; they wanted him to witness their signatures to what Levigne said were some legal documents; that done, they had stayed awhile, talking about the colliery; they had gone away together about seven, Levigne remarking that he had a cab coming to the Grange at eight as he wanted to catch the night train to London. The storm was getting bad, said Malcolmson, about the time they left, but he had lent them lanterns, and he could see no reason why they shouldn't have reached Mortover Grange in safety. Of course, if they'd got lost and gone wandering about that was a different matter—he'd heard nothing of them. Yesterday, and that morning, however, he had never been out—the storm had stopped all work, and he had kept to his fireside. But there were cottages near the new colliery, and there were huts, where the navvies lived who were engaged in sinking the shafts, and he turned out now with Wedgwood and the Superintendent and went with them to these places to make enquiries.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Wedgwood got back, still in company of the Superintendent, to Mortover Grange. They


text:
Page:A Grammar of the Telugu language.djvu/53

Rh Sanscrit Numerals are occasionally used in Telugu: the following are nearly all that occur.

A variety of contractions are used in ordinary correspondence: and in general where the same vowel occurs twice in a word, the second is not written. Thus తిరిగి tirigi again తరువాత taruvata, afterwards వెనక venaca behind కొలిమి colimi a fur-


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/315

 had heard nothing. But when they came in sight of the old house, they knew that something had been heard there. There were men at the door, and men in the courtyard—the men whom they had sent off, searching, from the roadside inn. And as they drew near one man detached himself from his fellows and came to meet them. He shook his head.

"We've found him!" he announced in a hushed voice. "Young Mr. Mortover, I mean. It's a bad job-he'd been dead a good while when we came across him! Fallen over the edge o' one of them old quarries—broken his neck, I should say."

"Where have you taken him?" asked the Superintendent.

The man nodded at the house.

"We carried him straight down here," he answered. "The women's busy with him—laying him out."

Wedgwood went straight into the Grange and upstairs. Through an open door he saw two countrywomen busied about a bed. Before he could enter, Mrs. Patello, her eyes wide with amazement, came from the room and beckoned him along the corridor. She seized him by the arm.

"Mr. Wedgwood!" she whispered. "You've heard? They carried him home, dead! Philip


text:
Page:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu/42

 from so renown’d an Antiquary, as it is a great Defence and Commendation of the Old Northern Learning, so is it the more remarkable, in that it was given by one, against whom you had written in the most tender Point of the Controversy, De Re Diplomatica, as may be seen in your ''Lingg. Vett Septentr. Thefaur. Præefat. General. p. xxxvi,'' &c.

Sir, I once more heartily beg your Pardon for giving you so much trouble, and beg leave to give you my Thanks for the great Assistance I have receiv'd in the Saxon Studies from your learned Works, and Conversation; and in particular for your favourable Recommendation of my Endeavours, in a farther cultivating those Studies, who with sincere Wishes for your good Health, and all imaginable Respect for a Person of your Worth and Learning, am,

Your Most Obliged,

Humble Servant,

Elizabeth Elstob.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/316

 Mortover! But—that's not Philip Mortover that's lying dead there! It's Walter Clagne—Janet's boy! He's the Clagne birthmark on his left arm. I saw it on his father, and I saw it on him when he was a baby! Not Philip Mortover at all—Walter Clagne, Janet's boy!"


text:
Page:Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue (Elstob 1715).djvu/41

 haps might be admitted for an Excuse, but that I will not involve the whole Sex, by pleading Woman's Frailty, I confess I thought it would be to little purpose to write an English Saxon Grammar, if there was nothing of Worth in that Language to invite any one to the study of it; so that I have only been upon the Defensive. If any think fit to take up Arms against me, I have great Confidence in the Protection of the Learned, the Candid, and the Noble; amongst which, from as many as bear the Ensigns of St. George, I cannot doubt of that help, that true Chevalrie can afford, to any Damsel in Distress, by cutting off the Heads of all those Dragons, that dare but to open their Mouths, or begin to his against her. But, Sir, before I conclude, I must do you the Justice to infert an extract of two Letters from the Right Honourable D. P. to the Reverend Dr. R.Taylor, relating to your ''Thesaurus. Lingg. Vett. Septentrion.'' which indeed might more properly have been placed in the eighth Page of this Preface, had it come sooner to my Hands. It is as follows,

"The Dean's Present, which I shall value as long as I live for his fake. Dom. Mabillon was the first that told me of that Work, and said, that the Author was a truly learned Person, and not one of those Writers who did not understand their Subject to the bottom, but, said he, that learned Man is one of ten thousand.

And in another Letter to the abovemention'd Dr. Taylor " When Dom. Mabillon first told me of it, he did not name the Author, so as I understood who he was, but the Elogium he made of him, was indeed very great, and I find that the Dean in one Word, has done that worthy Man Justice. This high Elogium of your self, and of your great Work, from


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/317

Before Wedgwood had realized the full meaning of Mrs. Patello's announcement she had seized him by the arm and was drawing him towards the room he had just passed.

"Come!" she said in a hushed whisper. "Come and look for yourself! I'll show you—but there's no doubt about it. And to think she's kept it a secret, all these years. Of course, I knew at once!"

The detective followed her into the room; at a word from her the two women busied about the still figure on the bed drew aside. Mrs. Patello, beckoning to Wedgwood to come closer, laid back the linen from the dead man's left arm and pointed to a curiously shaped brown mark that showed plainly above the elbow.

"The Clagne birthmark!" she whispered. "His father had it—in just the same place. I've heard him—Clagne, Janet's husband—say that they all had it—every Clagne, man and woman. I saw it on him—I saw it on this boy when he was a baby. Mr. Wedgwood—this is Walter Clagne, Janet's own son!"


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/318

 "Then" began Wedgwood. "She"

"I told you that she said her own child died! That's been a lie—it must have been Philip Mortover that died! She had both of them, you remember, in her care. And now it's plain to me—she made out that this lad, her own son, was Philip and brought him up as Philip! But—there it is!"

She pointed again to the birthmark and drawing the sheet over the dead man, left the other women to complete their task. Outside the room she turned on Wedgwood.

"What made her do that?" she asked, almost fiercely. "That deception—all these years! Not a suspicion of it on anybody's part!"

"I think it's plain to see, Mrs. Patello," said Wedgwood. "She wanted the Mortover Estate for her own son. Well—Walter Clagne or Philip Mortover—and I've no doubt whatever about what you say—he's gone! But—what about her?"

"You've heard nothing?" she asked anxiously.

"They were at Malcolmson's house, up the hillside across the valley, at seven o'clock night before last," replied Wedgwood. "The storm was beginning to get bad when they left there. And a man saw them at some point in the district that same night, after they'd left Malcolm-


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/319

 son's, lost, and enquiring their way—that is, they enquired it from him. They were then at the back of the new colliery works. And that's the last we've heard of them."

"They're lost!" said Mrs. Patello. She made a gesture of her hand towards the room they had just left. "Death!" she muttered. "Death all round—it's a judgment!"

Wedgwood made no reply to that: sentimental reflection was not to his taste. He went downstairs again and told the Superintendent what he had just heard.

"All of a piece with what I know of Janet Clagne," he concluded. "She seems to have been a schemer all her life. But the thing is—where are those two? It's getting on to forty-eight hours since they were seen or heard of!"

"They've come to grief somehow, somewhere," said the Superintendent. "And with all this thickness of snow it may be days before they're found. However, we've heard nothing yet from the men who went up to search round the new colliery. The man who came to me said that he'd told them of a short cut across there, and it's struck me that they may have come to grief amongst the workings. For instance, I know there were trial pits sunk here and there—I saw them myself one time when I was up


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/320

 here. They may have fallen into one, in wandering about."

"Not much use speculating," said Wedgwood. "If we could only get on their track—alive or dead, I want to lay hands on Levigne! He's papers on him that I want to see!"

"Nothing for it but waiting!" remarked the Superintendent.

But even then the period of waiting was nearly over. As the two men warmed themselves at the kitchen fire, discussing events with Mr. Patello who was all aghast at these tragic happenings a man came hurrying in with news evident in his every action. Blunt and business-like he voiced his tidings as soon as he caught sight of the Superintendent.

"We've found 'em!" he exclaimed, almost cheerfully. "Nice job we've had, an' all, up yonder, but we came across 'em, at last. What there is left of 'em, that is!"

"What do you mean?" demanded the Superintendent. "Left of them?"

"Well, there's naught but their dead bodies," answered the messenger, unconcernedly. "And they're frozen as stiff as boards! Been dead a good while, I should say—both!"

"Where are they?" asked Wedgwood.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/321

 "Up yonder, amongst the new workings," replied the man. "There's some temp'ry buildings up there—sheds, and such-like—and they're in one o' them. According to what we could make out, they must ha' crept in there for shelter when the storm was at its height, night before last, and whether it were the weight o' snow, or the wind, or whatever it were, that there building collapsed, d'ye see—anyway, we found 'em buried among the ruins. Nice job we had to get 'em out, too!"

"We've carried them into the new engine-house," said the man. "Mr. Malcolmson's there. He sent me down to see if you were here, and to tell you to come up. But of course you can't do no more than look at 'em.

An hour later, after a hard struggle through the snow, Wedgwood and the Superintendent were taken by the colliery manager into the place where Levigne and Janet Clagne, partners in death as in certain episodes of life, lay side by side, crushed and maimed and still clothed as when the search party came across them. And Wedgwood, sternly business-like, went straight to the point he wanted to reach, and within a minute of entering the room had drawn a quantity of papers from an inner pocket of Levigne's coat.

"That's where he put the papers that Mrs.


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/322

 Clagne signed and that he and I witnessed," whispered the colliery manager. "That blue one."

Wedgwood turned away from the dead, and motioning the Superintendent to go aside with him, began to examine the papers in the light of the lanterns they had carried.

"There'll be something here that'll throw some illumination on things," he muttered. "If only I could find out well, let's see what they are?"

The Superintendent watched curiously while Wedgwood rapidly looked each paper over, murmuring its drift and contents.

"This is the thing Malcolmson witnessed," muttered Wedgwood. "Statement by Janet Clagne that it was within her knowledge that after Matthew Mortover went to Canada he several times corresponded with his father, Gilson Mortover, informed him of his marriage to Louisa Patello and of the birth of his child Avice, and that through these letters Gilson became reconciled to Matthew again. Now what's been Levigne's object in getting that paper out of Janet Clagne? Ah, I see—he wanted it as a proof to the court in making that application on behalf of Avice Mortover! Well, that's that—now, what are these? Evidently the papers that Avice Mortover referred


text:
Page:Fletcher - The Mortover Grange Affair.pdf/323

 to when she told Nottidge that Levigne had got her signature to some documents. Here's one covenanting, if her claim to the Mortover estates is successful, to pay Levigne fifty thousand pounds!"

"For his trouble, I suppose?" said the Superintendent.

"And his cleverness! What's this, now—a somewhat similar document, covenanting in consideration of Philip Mortover and Janet Clagne giving every assistance in establishing her claim to settle on Philip Mortover, in the event of the claim being successful, one-half the estate. Um—Levigne seemed to have been pretty good at arranging matters, and it was high time this girl was got out of his hands. But these are not what I wanted! And these?" he went on, as he drew two or three folded papers from an envelope. "By God—they are!"

"What—what?" asked his companions, excitedly. "What are they?"

"Papers given by Avice Mortover to John Wraypoole, which Wraypoole had on him at the time he was murdered in Miss Tandy's flat!" exclaimed Wedgwood. "These are they! Look here!" he went on, seizing the Superintendent's arm and swinging him round in the direction of the table on which the dead man


text:
Page:A Grammar of the Telugu language.djvu/54

36 nace వలశిన valasina, must, ought అలుగు alugu a spear head &c. are pronounced as here written: though they are written thus తిర్గి tirgi తర్వాత tarvata వెన్క venka కొల్మి colmi వలశ్ని valasni, and అల్గు.

About forty very common words as తర్వాత tarvata afterwards దివి divi dated, or on the day. చొప్పున çoppuna according to and several Hindustani words as mauze a town, marifat by the hands of are contracted by writing the first letters thus తీ॥ ది॥ చొ॥ మం॥ మూ॥

In poetry it is customary to designate metres in the same manner. Thus క॥ సీ॥ గీ॥ ఆ॥ తె॥ ఉ॥ చ॥ శా॥ మ॥ denote the metres called కందం, గీతి, ఆటవెలది, తేటగీతి, ఉత్పలమాల, చంపకపాల, శార్దూల, మత్తేఛ and వ॥ stands for పచనం i. e. prose which (as in Lalla Rookh) is mingled with verse. The letter వు vu and even వృ will often be found written by mistake for ఉ॥ i. e. Utpalamala. It is needless to add in this place further details regarding metres; which are considered in the chapter on prosody.

In common letters and mercantile accounts peculiar contractions occur: such as ఖ॥ for ఖండి i. e. వుట్టి which means the Candy or Indian ton: also గ which (with గగ) denotes the coin called a pagoda; and రూ which is a contraction for రూపాయలు Rupees. In the heading of letters also రారా is used for the honorific phrase రాజమాన్యరాజవూజితులైన. The days of the week are contracted by writing only the first syllable: thus గు॥ signifies గురువారం Thursday: and the sign బ॥ and శు॥ are used to denote చహుళం the wane or dark fortnight; the light


text: The Mortover Grange Affair/Chapter 25

title: The Mortover Grange Affair/Chapter 25


text: The Mortover Grange Affair/Chapter 26

title: The Mortover Grange Affair/Chapter 26


text:
Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1193

 documents sent by other officials who inquired into the same case.

Documents submitted as evidence shall be included in the file. Regarding other articles, a detailed list of them shall be made and included in the file.

When an inquiry official in charge of an inquiry finds that the inquiry is finished, he shall proceed with it in any of the following manners:

if it is not known who the offender is and the maximum rate of imprisonment carried by the offence in question is not over three years, the inquiry official shall stay the inquiry and record the reasons therefor before sending the record together with the file to a public prosecutor;

if the maximum rate of imprisonment is over three years, the inquiry official shall send the file to a public prosecutor together with the opinion as to why the inquiry should be stayed;

if the public prosecutor orders the inquiry to be stayed or continued, the inquiry official shall comply therewith;

if the offender is known, the provisions of the following four sections shall apply.

title: Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1193


text:
Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1194

 If the offender is known but he cannot yet be summoned or arrested, when any information has been obtained through an inquiry, an opinion as to whether an order of prosecution or non-prosecution should be given shall be made and sent to a public prosecutor together with the file.

If the public prosecutor agrees that an order of non-prosecution should be given, he shall terminate the inquiry with an order of non-prosecution and notify the inquiry official of this order.

If the public prosecutor finds that the inquiry should be continued, he shall order the inquiry official to do so.

If the public prosecutor finds that an order of prosecution should be given, he shall make any arrangement for securing the person of the alleged offender. If the alleged offender is in a foreign country, the public prosecutor shall arrange for him to be extradited.

If the offender is known and he is being under custody or detention, or has been provisionally released, or is believed to appear upon being summonsed, the inquiry official shall, according to the merits of the inquiry, make an opinion as to whether an order of prosecution or non-prosecution should be given and sent it to a public prosecutor together with the file.

title: Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1194


text:
Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1195

 In the event that an opinion for an order of non-prosecution is proposed, only the file together with the opinion shall be sent to a public prosecutor. As regards the offender, the inquiry official shall have the power to grant a release or provisional release. If the offender is being detained, he shall apply to the court himself for his release or ask a public prosecutor to so apply.

In the event that an opinion for an order of prosecution is proposed, the inquiry official shall send the file together with the offender to a public prosecutor, save where the offender has already been detained.

But if it is an offence which the inquiry official may settle and the offender has already complied with the settlement, such settlement shall be recorded and sent to a public prosecutor together with the file.

Upon receipt of the opinion and file from the inquiry official as mentioned in the previous section, the public prosecutor shall follow the following:

in the event where he opines that non-prosecution should be ordered, he shall order non-prosecution or order the inquiry official to continue the inquiry, or shall order prosecution and notify the inquiry official to send the alleged offender forwards for further prosecution, as the case may be;

title: Page:กม ร ๘ - ๒๔๗๘ fixed.pdf/1195


text:
Page:Unauthorised Access to Credit Data in the TE Credit Reference System.pdf/13

 The Commissioner's Observations

Credit data is currently an important indicator of an individual's financial credibility and borrowing capacity. With the development of the digital economy, the proper handling and protection of credit records are essential for protecting personal data privacy and ensuring financial data security. The public will reasonably expect that their personal credit data, whether positive or negative, would be adequately protected by credit reference agencies and would not be subject to unrestricted access by unauthorised or unrelated organisations.

The Commissioner noted that the current operation and management of the TE Credit Reference System is neither regulated by the industry code nor the relevant laws of the financial sector, including the Money Lenders Ordinance (Chapter 163 of the Laws of Hong Kong) and the code of practice of licensed money lenders, and the situation is far from satisfactory. To ensure the data security of the database and the protection of borrowers' personal data privacy, the Commissioner recommends that the operation and management of any credit reference database be regulated or supervised through laws, regulations, guidelines, industry codes or licensing systems. It is of crucial importance that appropriate penalties should be imposed on wrongdoers, that the privacy of borrowers should be adequately protected, and the security of the database should be properly safeguarded.

Implementing a Personal Data Privacy Management Programme

Awareness of personal and credit data protection is already deeply ingrained in the minds of the general public. Data users have the undeniable responsibility to take effective measures to protect such data. The Commissioner encourages organisations to implement a "Personal Data Privacy Management Programme" through which personal data privacy protection can be incorporated into their data governance responsibilities. They should bear in mind the importance of personal data protection in daily operations and adopt a top-down approach in executing open and transparent information policies and standing instructions, so as to signal their determination in exemplifying good corporate governance. This will benefit and help an organisation to earn its reputation, gain trust


text:
Page:Unauthorised Access to Credit Data in the TE Credit Reference System.pdf/14

  of its customers and build a positive image of compliance with laws and regulations.

Appointing Data Protection Officer(s)

The Commissioner recommends that the operators of the credit database appoint a data protection officer to be responsible for overseeing compliance with the requirements under the Ordinance and implementing the aforementioned "Personal Data Privacy Management Programme", who should regularly report to management. A data protection officer shall also enhance staff awareness of personal data privacy protection, ensure the implementation of any personal data protection policies, and develop a culture of respecting and protecting personal data privacy.

Appointing an Independent Compliance Auditor

The Commissioner recommends as a good practice that credit reference agencies engage an independent compliance auditor to conduct regular compliance audits on the mechanism and means of providing credit reference services including assessing the security of the credit data held in their databases and whether the measures they have taken to protect the security of borrowers' credit data are adequate.

Adopting Strict Penalties for Contravention

In the present case, the Commissioner considers that the punishment by Softmedia of merely suspending the contravening money lending companies from using the TE Credit Reference System for a few days was inadequate.

As money lending companies require the use of the data in the credit database as reference before approving loan applications, the Commissioner considers that any companies in contravention should not be lightly allowed to continue to use the TE Credit Reference System. Apart from limiting the number of periods or times they can access the credit databases, other penalties (for example, increasing the access fee or fines, etc.) should be considered, and the operators of the credit databases should, depending on the circumstances, consider terminating the access rights of the relevant money lending companies.


text:
The Pines of Lory/Chapter 4

OT since her change of faith–never in fact–had Elinor Marshall listened to such open abuse of a sacred institution. And the memory of it kept her wide awake during a portion of the night.

Although she had decided to ignore that argument of the printing-press and bath-tub, it wormed itself into the inner chambers of her brain; and it refused to make way for better thoughts. As the possessor of a depositic conscience she suffered the miseries of guilt. For despite all reasoning of her own, she began to feel that unless those arguments were refuted, her faith might suffer: and, with her, an untarnished faith was vital.

The motion of her berth, the rhythmic pounding of the engines, the muffled sound, at intervals, of feet upon the deck, all were soothing; but the remembrance of that discussion, with its mortifying climax, made sleep impossible. This childish sensitiveness she fully realized,–and despised,–but nerves achieved an easy victory over reason.

She was glad when daylight came. Long before the breakfast hour she left her state-room and sought the deck for fresh air, and for Father Burke. He, also an early riser, was discovered in the lee of the upper cabins, his little prayer-book in his hand. Sitting close beside him she gave, in detail, the story of her conversation with Mr. Boyd. It was in the nature of a confession, but delivered in the hope and in the faith of the enemy’s discomfiture. She felt, of course, that the statements concerning the press and tub were false and foolish, and she knew that Father Burke could tell her why.

Her confidence was not misplaced. This was not the first time Father Burke had been called upon to stiffen the faith of wavering converts. Considerable experience and a perfect familiarity with the subject rendered the task an easy one. The tones of Father Burke’s voice were, in themselves, almost sufficient for the purpose. Deep, calm, mellow, ravishingly sympathetic, they played like celestial zephyrs upon the chords of the maiden’s heart. They filled the inmost recesses of her soul with security and peace. His arguments were the old, familiar things, considerably damaged by Protestants and other heretics; but he knew his audience. And when the spell had worked, when the wings beside him ceased to flutter, he drove the final bolt.

“You know, my child, that the value of a statement depends largely upon the character of him who utters it. I have no desire to injure this young man, nor to prejudice you in any way against him. But it is clearly my duty to warn you that he is not a person with whom it would be safe for you to permit a very close acquaintance.”

“You need have no anxiety on that point.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”

“But tell me what you know about him, Father Burke. His family never mentions his name, and I supposed there was something to conceal. Was it anything very bad?”

“Yes, bad enough. He is a wilful man, of a perverse and violent temper. His utterances of yesterday are in perfect accord with the spirit he displayed in youth. He broke his father’s heart.”

“From his face one would never suspect that part of it–the violent temper. He appears to be a person of unusual cheerfulness and serenity,–most offensively serene at times.”

“Very possible, my child. One of the hardest things to learn, and we seldom achieve it in youth, is that outward appearances often bear no relation to the inner man,–that the most inviting face can hide a vicious nature.”

“Do you really think him a bad man? I mean thoroughly unprincipled and wicked? I don’t like him, but somehow it doesn’t seem as if he could be utterly bad, with such a face.”

“Ah, my daughter, be on your guard against those very things! Heed the voice of experience. Remember his career.”

“But what especial thing did he do? What drove him away from home?”

“In a fit of temper he tried to kill his father.”

“Really!”

“As an old friend of the family, I knew the circumstances.”

“Awful! How did it happen?”

“They were in the garden in an arbor, engaged in a controversy. In his anger he struck the old gentleman and knocked him down, and would have killed him had not others interfered.”

A silence followed, not broken by Father Burke. He desired his listener to realize the iniquity of the deed.

At last she inquired half timidly:

“And there was no provocation?”

“None whatever.”

After another pause she said, reflectively:

“The father had a temper too, I fancy, from what I know of him.”

Toward the face beside him the priest cast a sidelong look, which was detected.

“I am not defending the son,” she said hastily. “Heaven forbid! I almost hate him. But you must admit that the father was not an especially lovable character, nor very gentle in his ways.”

“He had his faults, like the rest of us; but he was a rare man,–a religious man of deep convictions, and the soul of honor.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but I was always afraid of him.”

Father Burke laid his hand on her arm and said, very gently but with unusual seriousness:

“I should regret exceedingly, my child, to have you listen to the flippant sacrilege of this young man, or be subjected to his influence in any way.”

“There is no cause for alarm. I shall have as little to do with him as possible.”

“An excellent resolve. And now, will you grant me a request?”

“Certainly.”

“I have no right to exact a promise. I only suggest that while on this boat you avoid, as far as possible, his companionship.”

“I promise.”

They both arose. His voice and manner were always impressive, even in ordinary conversation. But now a moisture gathered in the maiden’s eyes as he gazed benignly into her face, and murmured in tones tremulous with feeling:

“May Heaven bless you, my daughter, for your noble spirit, and for your unswerving devotion to a holy cause.”

Then they went below to breakfast.

The girl was hungry; Father Burke was not. The undulations of the boat so tempered his appetite that food had lost its charm. A cup of tea and a bite of toast were the limits of his endeavor. Even these descended under protest and threatened to return. When the heretic–the victim of the plot–appeared soon after and took his seat at the table, he noticed that the greetings he received, while friendly and all that etiquette required, were less cordial than on the day before.

And this was emphasized later, when he joined Miss Marshall on the deck. After a moment’s conversation, she spoke of letters to be written, and went below.

And once again, to make sure that this disgrace was no fancy of his own, he approached her as she sat reading, or at least, with a book in her hand. In his best and most easy manner, he inquired:

“Did you ever hear of the Magdalen Islands, Miss Marshall?”

She looked up, and nodded pleasantly.

“Well, we are passing them now.”

“Indeed!”

“They are off there to the westward, between twenty and thirty miles away, but out of sight, of course.”

Amiably she inclined her head in recognition of the news, but made no reply.

It began to be awkward for Pats. But he resolved to suppress any outward manifestations of that state. This task was all the harder, as his legs embarrassed him. He knew them to be thin,–of a thinness that was startling and unprecedented,–and now, as he confronted the northeast wind, their shrunken and ridiculous outlines were cruelly exposed. He was sensitive about these members, and he thought she had glanced furtively in their direction. However, with his usual buoyancy he continued:

“And now we leave land behind us until we reach the northern shore of the Gulf.”

“Yes?”

Although she gazed pensively over the water, and with conspicuous amiability, something seemed to suggest that the present conversation had reached a natural end. So the skeleton moved away.

With Pats a hint was enough. During the remainder of the voyage, at meals, and the few occasions on which he met the lady, he also was genial and outwardly undisturbed; but he took every care that she should be subjected to no annoyance from his companionship. This outward calmness, however, bore no resemblance to his inward tribulation. Such was his desire for her good opinion that this sudden plunge from favor to disgrace–or at least, to a frigid toleration–brought a keen distress. Moreover, he was mortified at having allowed himself, under any pretext, to jeer at her religion.

“Ass, ass! Impossible ass!” he muttered a dozen times that day.

Meanwhile, the Maid of the North was driving steadily along, always to the north and east. On the morning of the second day her passengers had caught glimpses, to the larboard, of the shores of Nova Scotia. Later they rounded Cape Breton, and then, against a howling wind and a choppy sea, headed north into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The Maid of the North was a sturdy boat, and though she pitched and tossed in a way that disarranged the mechanism of her passengers, she did nothing to destroy their confidence.

It was the evening of this last day of the voyage, when Pats, feeling the need of companionship in his misery, descended for a final interview with Solomon. Through a dismal part of the steamer he groped his way, until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Solomon heard his step and knew him from afar. He whined, pulled hard at his chain, and stood up on his hind legs, waving his front ones in excited welcome.

“There is somebody glad to see me, anyway,” thought Pats, as he sat on an anchor bar with the dog’s head between his knees. There had always been more or less conversation between these two: not that Solomon understood the exact meaning of all the words, but he did thoroughly understand that trust and affection formed the bulk of the sentiments expressed. And these things being the basis of Solomon’s character rendered him a sympathetic and grateful listener. The monologue, address, oration, confidence–or whatever–was delivered in a low tone, accompanied by strokings of the listener’s head, taps, friendly pinches, and wandering of fingers about the ears.

“Bad place for a dog, old chap. Lots of motion here, and smells, but ’twill soon be over. So cheer up. Any way, you are lots better off than I am. In a single interview I have secured the contempt of an exceptionally fine woman. Yes, your Pats has done well.”

He smiled in the darkness, a melancholy smile.

“She probably told everything to the priest, and he has explained to her satisfaction wherein I am a fool,–a malicious, blaspheming, dangerous villain, and a stupendous ass. And he is right. Perhaps, in time,–a long time,–I may learn that insulting people’s religion isn’t the shortest road to popularity.”

In his abstraction the hand, for an instant, was withdrawn. Solomon protested, and the attentions were resumed. “Keep still, old man, I am not going. And don’t get that chain around your legs. But she is a fine girl, Sol: too fine, perhaps. Just a little, wee bit too everlastingly high-minded and superior for ordinary dogs like us.”

While administering these pearls of wisdom the speaker had become interested in two approaching figures, dimly visible in the obscurity. As they came nearer, he saw that one, the older of the two, a man with gray chin whiskers and a blue jersey, was drunk. This man stopped, and holding the other by the arm exclaimed:

“It’s so, damn it! It’s so, I tell yer! What’s he doin’ this minute? He’s blind drunk in his cabin. Why, the jag on him would sink a man-o’-war. Oh, he’s a daisy cap’n, he is! He’s the champion navigator.”

“He’ll be all right in the mornin’.”

“All right in the mornin’! It’ll be a week! And where’ll we be to-morrer mornin’? Where are we–hic–now? God knows, and he ain’t tellin’.”

With a maudlin gesture and a reverberating hiccup, the speaker, following the motion of the boat, pushed his friend against the wall and held him there. “I’ll tell yer where we are; we are more’n fifty miles east of where we think we are. We ain’t sighted Anticosti yet. And we ain’t goin’ to.”

The other man laughed, “Oh, shut up, Bart. You are gettin’ a jag on yerself.”

“Yes, sir! We are fifty miles too far to easterd now, and by to-morrer mornin’ it’ll be a hundred miles.”

They passed on, the older man still holding forth. “I’ve been this cruise a dozen times, but, by God! this is the first time I ever tried to get there by–hic–headin’ for Labrador.”

They disappeared in the darkness, in the direction of the forecastle, the sound of their footsteps dying away among the other noises of the boat.

Here was food for thought. But, then, the man was exceeding drunk. And his companion, who probably knew him well, paid no attention to his words. However, Pats took a look about the boat when he got on deck. The pilot and second officer were in the wheelhouse, both silent, serious, and attending to their duty. The watches were all at their posts and the Maid of the North was ploughing bravely through the night as if she, at least, had no misgivings. By the time Pats went to bed, an hour later, the drunken sailor was forgotten.

It was a long time before he slept; and the sleep, when it came, was fitful. Perhaps he had brooded too much over his fall from grace. As the night wore on he was not sure, half the time, whether he was dreaming or awake. And so eventful were his slumbers, and so real the events therein, that his dreams and his waking moments became painfully intermingled. As, for instance, when he entered the cathedral. For a moment he stood still, overcome by its vastness and by the size of the congregation. Truly an imposing assemblage! And the great edifice was ablaze with light. A wedding, apparently, for there, before the altar, stood the bride, awaiting the groom.

As Pats sauntered up the nave she turned about and smiled. And, lo! it was Miss Marshall, more beautiful than ever, more stately and more patrician, if possible, than in her travelling dress. For now she was all in white with a long veil–and orange blossoms. She smiled at him and beckoned.

Yes! He was to be the groom! It was for him they waited!

He strove to get ahead. His feet refused to budge. The harder he tried, the tighter he stuck. He opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came forth. Again and again he tried. Again and again he failed. The huge congregation began to murmur and he could hear them whispering, “What a fool!”

Then, from behind him came three men: Billy Townsend, the man with the nose, and the other fellow with the flowers. They walked by him, easily, all in wedding array, and they lined up by the bride. Pats tried to raise his voice and stop it, but in vain. The Pope stepped forward and performed the ceremony, uniting them all in marriage. The four bowed their heads and received a blessing.

And when the happy grooms with their bride came down the main aisle, they gave Pats a look,–a look so triumphant and so contemptuous, that it set his soul afire. He boiled with fury and humiliation. But stir he could not, nor speak. The bride’s contempt, and she showed it, was beyond endurance. Gasping with passion, he tried to rush forward and smite the grooms–to scream–to do anything. But he could only stand–immovable. Suddenly the music changed. From a stately march it galloped into the air of a comic song that he had always hated. The Pope, as he marched by, stopped in front of him and cursed him for a Protestant. And now, beneath the jewelled tiara, Pats recognized the drunken old sailor with the chin beard.

But in the midst of these curses came tremendous blows against the outer walls, resounding through the whole interior of the Cathedral; then an awful voice, as from The Almighty, reverberated down the aisle:

“Time to get up! We are there!”

The martyr, in the violence of his struggle, banged his head against the berth above, and shouted:

“Where?”

“At Boyd’s Island, sir, where you get off.”

title: The Pines of Lory/Chapter 4


text:
The Pines of Lory/Chapter 5

HEN Pats, in the early morning light, stepped out upon the deck, he found, enveloping all things, a thick, yellow fog. Miss Marshall, her maid, and Father Burke stood peering over the starboard rail at an approaching life-boat. This boat had been ashore with baggage, and was now returning for the passengers.

The fog lifted at intervals, allowing fugitive glimpses of a wooded promontory not a quarter of a mile away.

Pats was struck afresh this morning by Miss Marshall’s appearance. She wore a light gray dress and a hat with an impressive bunch of black, and he saw, with sorrowing eyes, that she and all that pertained to her had become more distantly patrician, more generally exalted and unattainable, if possible, than heretofore. He knew little of women’s dress, but in the style and cut of this particular gown there existed an indefinable something that warned him off. No mortal woman in such attire could fail to realize her own perfection. He also knew that the apparent simplicity of the hat and gown were delusive.

And this woman was so accustomed to the adoration of men that it only annoyed her! Verily, if there was a gulf between them yesterday, to-day it had become a shoreless ocean!

Moreover, he thought he detected in Father Burke’s face, as they shook hands at parting, a look of triumph imperfectly suppressed. While causing a mild chagrin, it brought no surprise, as the lady’s manner this morning, although civil, was of a temperature to put the chill of death upon presumptuous hope.

After a formal good-by to the uncle, Pats climbed into the little boat and assisted the lady to a seat in the stern. Then he turned about and held forth his hands toward the maid. She stepped back and shook her head.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “There is no danger.”

“But I am not going ashore, sir.”

He looked toward Miss Marshall, who explained: “Louise is not coming with us. She goes on to Quebec, where I am to meet her in a fortnight.”

So they pushed away and rowed off into the fog, waving adieus to the little group that watched them from the Maid of the North. Both kept their eyes upon the steamer until a veil of gauze, ethereal but opaque, closed in between them. The sun, still near the horizon, lit up the mist with a golden light, and Pats with the haughty lady seemed floating away into enchanted space.

Nearing the shore they made out more clearly the coast ahead. This fragment of primeval forest, its rocky sides rising fifty feet or thereabouts above the water, was crowned with gigantic pines, their tops, above the mist, all glowing in the morning light. The two passengers regarded this scene in silence, impressed by its savage beauty. The little pier at which they landed, neglected and unsubstantial, seemed barely strong enough to bear their weight.

“Is this the only landing-place?” Pats demanded of the boatswain.

“No, sir. There’s another one farther in, but the tide isn’t right for it.”

Just off the pier stood their trunks, and beside them two boxes and a barrel. Of the three passengers, the gladdest to get ashore, if one could judge by outward manifestations, was Solomon. He ran and barked and wheeled about, jumping against his master as if to impart some of his own enthusiasm. His joy, while less contagious than he himself desired, produced one good result in causing the lady to unbend a little. At first she merely watched him with amusement, then talked and played with him, but not freely and with abandon, only so far as was proper with a dog whose master had become a suspicious character. As the life-boat disappeared toward the invisible steamer, Pats turned to his companion.

“Welcome to this island, Miss Marshall. I am now the host–and your humble and obedient vassal. Shall I hurry on ahead and send down for the baggage? Or shall we go on together and surprise the family?”

Her lips parted to say: “Let us go on together,” but she remembered Father Burke and his warning. So she answered, with a glance at the trunks, “Perhaps you should go first. The sooner the baggage is removed the better.”

With a little bow of acquiescence Pats turned and climbed the rocky path. She followed, but at a distance, and slowly, that there might be no confusion in his mind as to her desire to walk alone. To make doubly sure she paused about half-way up and listened for a moment to the tumbling of the waves upon the little beach below.

Reaching the top of this path she found herself at the edge of a forest. It was more like a grove,–a vast grove of primeval pines. Into the shadow of this wood she entered, then stopped, and gazed about. Such trees she had never seen,–an endless vista of gigantic trunks, like the columns of a mighty cathedral, all towering to a vault of green, far above her head. And this effect of an interior–of some boundless temple–was augmented by the smooth, brown floor,–a carpet of pine-needles. With upturned face and half-closed eyes the girl drew a long deep breath. The fragrance of the pines, the sighing of the wind through the canopy above, all were soothing to the senses; and yet, in a dreamy way, they stirred the imagination. This was fairy land–the enchanted forest–the land of poetry and peace–of calm content, far away from common things. And that unending lullaby from above! What music could be sweeter?

From this revery–of longer duration than she realized–she was awakened by a distant voice of a person shouting. She could see Pats off at the end of the point waving his handkerchief and trying to attract the attention of somebody on the water. Perhaps the gardener, or some fisherman.

Walking farther on, into the wood, she became more and more impressed by the solemn beauty of this paradise. And the carpet of pine-needles seemed placed there with kind intent as if to insure a deeper silence. She resolved to spend much of her time in these woods, and, even now, she found herself almost regretting the proximity of her friends.

In the distance, between the trunks of the trees, came glimpses, first of Solomon, then of his master, moving hastily about as if on urgent business. She smiled, a superior, tolerant smile at the inconsistency–and the sacrilege–of haste or of any kind of business in the sacred twilight of this grove, this realm of peace. And so, she strolled about, resting at intervals, inhaling the odors of the pines, and dreaming dreams.

In these reveries came no thoughts of time until she saw the enemy–Pats–approaching. His silent footsteps on the smooth, brown carpet made him seem but a spirit of the wood,–some unsubstantial denizen of this enchanted region. But in his face and manner there was something that dispelled all dreams. He stopped before her, out of breath. “There is no house here!”

With a frown of dismay she took a backward step. Indicating by a gesture the cottage out upon the point, she said:

“The house we saw from the boat; what is that?”

“I cannot imagine. But it is no gardener’s cottage.”

“Then what is it?”

“Heaven knows,” he answered with a joyless smile. “It looks like a room in a museum, or a bric-à-brac shop.”

“But how do you know there is no other house?”

“I have been over the whole point. I climbed that cliff, behind there, and got a view of the country all about. There is not a house in sight.”

“Impossible!”

“Nor a settlement of any kind.”

“Surely, somebody can give us information.”

“So it would seem, but I have hunted in vain for a human being.”

“The people you were calling to from the cliff, couldn’t they tell you something?”

“There were no people there. I was trying to stop the steamer.”

She regarded him in fresh alarm. “Do you mean they have landed us out of our way?–at the wrong place?”

He hesitated. “I am not sure. But we can always get the people of this cottage to take us along in their boat. It is still early; only nine o’clock.”

As they walked toward the cottage she noticed that he was short of breath and that he seemed tired. But his manner was cheerful, even inspiriting, and while she took care to remember that he was still in disgrace, she felt her own courage reviving under the influence of his livelier spirits. Besides, as they stepped out of the woods into the open space at the southern end of the point,–a space about two acres in extent and covered with grass,–and saw the blue sea on three sides, she found new life in the air that came against her face. In deep breaths she inhaled this air. Turning her eyes to her left she beheld for the first time the front of the building they had sighted from the steamer. This building, one story high, of rough stone, was nearly sixty feet long by about thirty feet in width.

“What a fascinating cottage!” she exclaimed. “It is almost covered with ivy!”

“Yes, it is picturesque, and I am curious to see the sort of family that lives in such a place.”

“Is no one there now?”

“Nobody.”

“Nor anywhere near?”

“No. I have looked in every direction–and shouted in every direction. They are probably off in their boat.”

As Pats and Elinor approached the building and stood for a moment before the door, a squad of hens and chickens, most of them white, began to gather about. They seemed very trusting and not at all afraid. The guiding spirit of the party–a tall, self-conscious rooster, attired, apparently, in a scarlet cap, a light gray suit with voluminous knickerbockers, and yellow stockings–studied the new-comers, with his head to one side, expressing himself in sarcastic gutturals.

“That fellow,” said Pats, “seems to be making side remarks about us, and they are not complimentary.”

His companion paid no attention to this speech. She had regretted her enthusiasm over the cottage. Enthusiasm might foster a belief that she was enjoying his society. So she remarked, in a colder tone, “I think you had better knock.”

He knocked. They listened in silence. He knocked again. Still no answer. Then he opened the door and entered, she following cautiously. After one swift, comprehensive survey, she turned to him in amazement. He was watching her, expecting this effect.

The interior of the building was practically a single room. From the objects contained it might be the hall of a palace, or of an old château–or of a gallery in some great museum. On the walls hung splendid tapestries and rare old paintings. Beneath them stood Italian cabinets of superb design, a marriage chest, a Louis XV. sofa in gilt, upholstered with Beauvais tapestry, chairs and bergère to match. Scattered about were vases in old Sèvres, clocks in ormolu, miniatures, and the innumerable objects of ancestral and artistic value pertaining to a noble house. Over all lay the mellowness of age, those harmonies of color that bewitch the antiquary.

Dumfounding it certainly was, the sudden transition from primeval nature without to this sumptuous interior. Conspicuous in the sombre richness of these treasures were two marble busts, standing on either side of the great tapestry fronting the door. They were splendid works of art, larger than life, and represented a lofty individual who might have been a marshal of France with the Grand Condé, and an equally exalted personage, presumably his wife. These impressive ancestors rested on pedestals of Sienna marble.

Elinor Marshall found no words to express her amazement. She stood in silence, her eyes, in a sort of bewilderment, moving rapidly about the room. At last in a low, awe-struck voice she said:

“Have you no idea what it all means?”

“None whatever. But I am sure of one thing, that it has nothing to do with Boyd’s Island. If such a house as this were anywhere within reach of my sisters, they surely would have mentioned it.”

“Oh, surely!”

“It being off here in the wilderness is what takes one’s breath away.”

“I can’t understand it–or even quite believe it yet.” Then forgetting herself for an instant, she added, impulsively: “Why, just now I closed my eyes and was surprised, when I opened them again, to find it still here.”

“Yes; I expect an old woman with a hook nose to wave a stick and have the whole thing vanish.”

As their eyes met she almost smiled. For this lapse of duty to her church and to herself, however, she atoned at once by a sudden frigidity. Turning away she studied a huge tapestry that hung on their left as they entered. This tapestry extended almost across the room, forming a screen to a chamber behind.

“That is a bed-room,” said Pats. “I looked in,” and he drew aside the tapestry that she might enter. She shook her head and stepped back. But in spite of her respect for the owner’s privacy, and before she could avert her eyes, she caught a hasty glimpse of a monumental bed with hangings of faded silk between its massive columns; of two portraits on the walls and an ivory crucifix. This glance at the bed-room served to increase her uneasiness. Moving toward a table that stood near the centre of the room she turned, and regarding Pats with the lofty, far-away air which never failed to congeal his courage, she asked:

“Where do you think we are? How far from your house?”

“I have not the remotest idea. It is hard to guess. But I have a suspicion–”

He hesitated. “Suppose I go out and make another effort to find these people.” And he started for the door.

“What is your suspicion?”

He stopped in obvious uncertainty as to his reply. Looking away through the open door, he said: “Oh, nothing–except that we are not where we want to be.”

“Well, what else?”

Pats met her glance and saw that she was becoming distrustful. Standing with one hand upon the ancient table, with the tapestries and busts behind her, she was a striking figure, and in perfect harmony with the surrounding magnificence. She reminded him of some picture of an angry queen at bay–confronting her enemies. In her eyes and in her manner he clearly read that she had resolved to know the truth. Moreover, she gave at this moment a distinct impression of being a person of considerable spirit. So, to allay her suspicions, which he could only guess at, he related, after the briefest hesitation, all he had heard the night before between the two sailors, repeating, as nearly as possible, what the drunken man had said. When he had finished she replied, calmly, but evidently repressing her indignation:

“Why did you not tell me this earlier?–on the boat, before it was too late?”

“I did not suppose you would care to know. I attached very little importance to it.”

“Importance! I think I might have had some choice as to being landed in the wilderness with you alone, or going on to your sisters.”

Pats regarded her in a mild surprise. Her sudden anger was very real. He answered, gently: “The man was so drunk he hardly knew what he was saying. His companion, who probably knew him well, paid no attention to his words.”

“But I should have paid attention to his words. And so would my uncle, or any friend of mine, if he could have heard him.”

Pats, taken aback at the new light in which he stood, retorted, with some feeling:

“I hope you don’t mean to say that I did this intentionally?”

“Then why did you keep such information so carefully to yourself?”

“Because when I woke up I found we were here–that is, as I supposed–at Boyd’s Island. Both the steward and the first officer told me so. My only doubt when I went to bed was about our getting here. And this morning here we were. It had come out all right, so far as I knew.”

With a curl of her lip that expressed a world of incredulity, she dropped into one of the chairs behind the table, and rested her chin upon her hand.

In a lower tone, he continued:

“I have never been here before, and had no idea how it looked. Why didn’t Father Burke tell you this was not the place? He knows our island.”

“It was foggy. Nobody could see it; and he knew nothing of the warning you were keeping to yourself.”

Beneath this avalanche of contempt, Pats’s feeble knees almost let him to the floor.

“Miss Marshall, at least do me the justice to believe–”

“Would you mind leaving me for a time?”

Into his hollow cheeks came a darker color, and he closed his eyes. Then, with a glance of resentment, he took a step or two in her direction as if to speak. But instead of speaking, he turned toward the open door and walked slowly out.

For a long time she remained in the same position, boiling with resentment, yet keeping back her tears. She knew this coast was wild, almost uninhabited, neither to the east nor west a sign of life: behind them, northward, the unending forest. And the owner of this mysterious habitation,–what manner of man was he? Perhaps there were several. And she, a woman, alone with these men! From such bitter reflections she was recalled, slowly, by the realization that her eyes were resting upon a little portrait about twice the size of an ordinary miniature–a woman’s face–confronting her from across the table. It hung against the back of the opposite chair, on a level with her own eyes, and was suspended by a narrow black ribbon,–an odd place for a portrait, but in glancing at the table in front of her she thought she guessed the reason. Before the place in which she had thrown herself she noticed for the first time a plate, a pewter mug, a napkin, and a knife and fork. Evidently the host expected to eat alone, for there were no other dishes on the table. And the portrait, of course, must be his wife, or his mother, perhaps, or daughter. It proved a pleasant face as it, in turn, regarded her from the little oval frame,–rather plump and youthful, with a curious little mouth and large dark eyes, with a peculiar droop at the outer corners. The hair was drawn up, away from the forehead; the shoulders were bare, and a string of pearls encircled the neck. She was dark, with good features, not strictly beautiful, but gentle and somewhat melancholy, in spite of the mirthful eyes.

So this was the romance of their mysterious host! She of the miniature, whatever her title–wife, mother, daughter, or sweetheart,–was ever present at his table, looking into his eyes across the board.

The American girl felt a quickening interest in this host. Was it love that drove him to the wilderness? And why did he bring into it such a wealth of household goods?

As she leaned back in the old-fashioned chair, her eyes wandering over the various objects in this unaccountable abode, her imagination began to play, giving a life and history to the people in the tapestries and portraits. The outside world was almost forgotten when she was recalled to herself by the chimes of an enormous clock behind the door. This triumph of a previous century, after tolling twelve, rambled off with a music-box accompaniment into the quaint old minuet attributed to Louis XIII. Before it had finished, two other clocks began their midday strike.

Elinor looked about in alarm, under a vague impression that the various objects in the room were coming to life. Then, with the reaction, she smiled and thought:

“Our friend is methodical with his clocks.”

But still, in this atmosphere, she was not at ease; there was an excess of mystery, too much that needed explanation. And now that it was midday, the host might return at any moment and find her there, alone. So she went out; and to avoid any appearance of pursuing Mr. Boyd, she followed a little path behind the house that led among the pines. Hardly had she entered the wood, however, when she saw, off to her right and not many yards away, the man she was trying to escape. He was lying at full length along the ground, one arm for a pillow, his face against the pine-needles. In this prostrate figure every line bore witness to a measureless despair.

In her one glance she had seen that Solomon, as he sat by his master’s head, was following her with his eyes. And these eyes seemed to say: “We stand or fall together, he and I. So go about your business.”

She also saw that a warning from the watcher had aroused the downcast figure; for it raised its head and looked about. Mortified and angry with herself, and still angrier with him, she averted her eyes and passed coldly on; but with the consolation of having witnessed some indication of his own misery and repentance. However, it was an empty joy. Of what avail his remorse? The evil was done; her good name was forever compromised.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, she halted suddenly, and with a shock. At her feet, across the little path she had unconsciously followed, stretched an open grave. It was not a fresh excavation, for on the bottom lay a covering of pine-needles. And the rough pile of earth alongside was also covered with them. Projecting into the grave were several roots, feeders sent out by the great trees above; and from the stumps of other and larger roots it was evident that he who dug the grave had been driven to use the axe as well as the shovel. Close beside this grave was a mound with a wooden cross at the head.

“There,” she thought, “rests the lady of the miniature–perhaps.” This mound was also covered with pine-needles, as if Nature were helping some one to forget.

The silence of this spot, the murmuring of the wind among the branches high above, all tended to a somewhat mournful revery; and she wondered how this empty grave had been cheated of its tenant. With reverence she gazed upon the primitive wooden cross, evidently put together by inexperienced hands. Then she looked upward, as if to question the voices in the boughs above. But of the empty grave and its companion the whispering pines told nothing.

Approaching footsteps gave no sound in this forest, and she was startled by a cough behind her. It was only Pats, not wishing to startle her by a sudden presence. His face seemed flushed, and even thinner than before; and about his mouth had come a drawn and sensitive look. But her eyes rested coldly upon him as they would rest upon any repugnant object that she despised, but did not fear.

Smiling with an effort, he said: “Excuse my following you, but it is nearly one o’clock and time for food. I am sure we can find something in that cottage.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Did you have breakfast on the boat?”

“No.”

“Then you must be hungry.”

“I do not care to eat.” And she turned away.

“Excuse me, Miss Marshall,” and he spoke more seriously, “pardon my giving you advice, but you have had a hard morning and you will feel better, later on, for a little food. As for me, I have had nothing since yesterday, and shall collapse without it. Suppose I go to the house and scrape up some sort of a lunch. Won’t you come there in a few minutes?”

Her eyes travelled frigidly from his face to his feet. But before she could reply, he added:

“Besides, the owner may come back, now, at any minute, and if he finds us together it will save time in our getting off.”

Turning away to resume her walk she answered, indifferently: “Very well, I will be there soon.”

title: The Pines of Lory/Chapter 5