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Rh to the superiority of their nature; on the contrary, notwithstanding their inferior gifts, the capacity of activity itself always gives them the advantage over inactivity, quite independent of any consideration whether the inactivity of some persons flows from excellent impulses and the activity of others from bad ones. "Activity is good, inactivity is evil. Activity transforms evil into good," says Shakespeare, according to Gervinus. Shakespeare prefers the principle of Alexander (of Macedonia) to that of Diogenes, says Gervinus. In other words, he prefers death and murder due to ambition, to abstinence and wisdom.

According to Gervinus, Shakespeare believes that humanity need not set up ideals, but that only healthy activity and the golden mean are necessary in everything. Indeed, Shakespeare is so penetrated by this conviction that, according to Gervinus 's assertion, he allows himself to deny even Christian morality, which makes exaggerated demands on human nature. Shakespeare, as we read, did not approve of limits of duty exceeding the intentions of nature. He teaches the golden mean between heathen hatred to one's enemies and Christian

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 sleeping in each of his troop rooms, and equipped with this the orderly sergeant-major, accompanied by, the corporal of the guard, visited the rooms and counted the sleeping occupants. It was a favourite device of absentees, before going out, to fold up their bed as in day-time, so that the visiting sergeant-major might perhaps not notice their absence; while others would try to deceive him by leaving a made-up dummy in their beds. "Breaking-out of barracks" was the crime, and twenty-eight days' confinement to barracks was usually the punishment, for this form of absence.

To "break out" of barracks was a simple matter at Aldershot, for although the gates at the end of them were kept locked after watch-setting, and had high walls on either side, an unenclosed public read ran along the front which was accessible to everybody. This was not the case with all barracks, most of them being surrounded by high walls, topped with broken glass. When we were at Brigliton, where the walls were of this kind, an amusing incident occurred in connection with a man who was trying to get back again after successfully breaking out. Not being able to scale the walls, he hit on the idea of returning in an officcr's brougham, which was being brought back to barracks by a friendly coachman after depositing the officer and his wife at their house in the town. Unfartunately the military police sergeant looked inside the brougham before allowing it ta leave the barrack gate, and the offender accordingly found himself in a worse predicament at orderly room next morning than if he had walked into barracks and surrendered.

Of all days of the week Sunday was the most hated—a sad confession to make, but none the less true. After morning stables there was a general rush, often with little or no time for breakfast, to turn out in "full dress" for "divine service"—attendance at which was compulsory. On return to barracks there was another scramble preparatory to the commanding officer's inspection of stables, horses, saddlery, and barrack-rooms. From early morning till half-past one in the afternoon there was more work to be done, more grumbling and swearing, and more fault-finding

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


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title: Page:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf/1


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Rh love toward them (pp. 561, 562). How far Shakespeare was penetrated with this fundamental principle of reasonable moderation, says Gervinus, can be seen from the fact that he has the courage to express himself even against the Christian rules which prompt human nature to the excessive exertion of its powers. He did not admit that the limits of duties should exceed the biddings of Nature. Therefore he preached a reasonable mean natural to man, between Christian and heathen precepts, of love toward one's enemies on the one hand, and hatred toward them on the other.

That one may do too much good (exceed the reasonable limits of good) is convincingly proved by Shakespeare's words and examples. Thus excessive generosity ruins Timon, while Antonio's moderate generosity confers honor; normal ambition makes Henry V. great, whereas it ruins Percy, in whom it has risen too high; excessive virtue leads Angelo to destruction, and if, in those who surround him, excessive severity becomes harmful and can not prevent crime, on the other hand the divine element in man, even charity, if it be excessive, can create crime.

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Page:Catholic Social Doctrine and the Dignity of Work Marco Rubio 2019.pdf/4

 * And after the war, returning veterans would never have been able to find a job, buy a home, and start a baby boom if we didn’t have strong businesses to hire them.

 * That was the America my parents came to in 1956 – the place in which it was possible for poorly educated immigrants like them to find dignified work, purchase a house, raise a family, and leave all four of their children better off than themselves.

 * This is why I have always told their story: not because of what it says about me, but because of what it says about our country.

 * This is why since the day I entered public service I have been an unabashed believer in American exceptionalism and promoter of the American Dream.

 * But when I ran for president, I learned the hard way that many Americans did not share my optimism.

 * They were anxious, even angry at those they blamed for ignoring them, disrespecting them, and leaving them behind.

 * From cabinet-makers in Georgia to power tool factory workers in Pennsylvania, they are the people whose lives were turned upside down when companies exercised their right to make a profit by offshoring their jobs, with little regard for their corresponding duty to invest in their own workers.

 * They were the people who were told to go back to school, learn to code, and leave their extended family and community behind and get a job in the “new economy”.

 * These millions of Americans are the victims of an economic re-ordering which Pope Benedict in Caritas in Veritate described as the dominance of “largely speculative” financial flows detached from real production.

 * When we started only focusing on the right of businesses to make a profit and stopped recognizing the obligation of businesses to reinvest in America, large corporations became nothing more than financial vehicles for shareholders, managers, and banks to assert their claims over.

 * The right to return money to shareholders became a right above all others. And the obligation to invest for the benefit of our workers and our country became an afterthought.

 * The economic numbers tell the tale.


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Rh Shakespeare taught, says Gervinus, that one may he too good.

He teaches that morality, like politics, is a matter in which, owing to the complexity of circumstances and motives, one can not establish any principles (p. 563), and in this he agrees with Bacon and Aristotle—there are no positive religious and moral laws which may create principles for correct moral conduct suitable for all cases.

Gervinus most clearly expresses the whole of Shakespeare's moral theory by saying that Shakespeare does not write for those classes for whom definite religious principles and laws are suitable {i.e., for nine hundred and ninety-nine one-thousandths of men) but for the educated:

"There are classes of men whose morality is best guarded by the positive precepts of religion and state law; to such persons Shakespeare's creations are inaccessible. They are comprehensible and accessible only to the educated, from whom one can expect that they should acquire the healthy tact of life and self-consciousness by means of which the innate guiding powers of conscience and reason, uni

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text: Page:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf/2

title: Page:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf/2


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Rh ting with the will, lead us to the definite attainment of worthy aims in life. But even for such educated people, Shakespeare's teaching is not always without danger. The condition on which his teaching is quite harmless is that it should be accepted in all its completeness, in all its parts, without any omission. Then it is not only without danger, but is the most clear and faultless and therefore the most worthy of confidence of all moral teaching" (p. 564).

In order thus to accept all, one should understand that, according to his teaching, it is stupid and harmful for the individual to revolt against, or endeavor to overthrow, the limits of established religious and state forms. "Shakespeare," says Gervinus, "would abhor an independent and free individual who, with a powerful spirit, should struggle against all convention in politics and morality and overstep that union between religion and the State which has for thousands of years supported society. According to his views, the practical wisdom of men could not have a higher object than the introduction into society of the greatest spontaneity and freedom, but precisely because

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text: Index:Marco Rubio and Others to Denis McDonough on Vaccine Injury.pdf


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Rh of this one should safeguard as sacred and irrefragable the natural laws of society—one should respect the existing order of things and, continually verifying it, inculcate its rational sides, not overlooking nature for the sake of culture, or vice versa" (p. 566). Property, the family, the state, are sacred; but aspiration toward the recognition of the equality of men is insanity. Its realization would bring humanity to the greatest calamities. No one struggled more than Shakespeare against the privileges of rank and position, but could this freethinking man resign himself to the privileges of the wealthy and educated being destroyed in order to give room to the poor and ignorant? How could a man who so eloquently attracts people toward honors, permit that the very aspiration toward that which was great be crushed together with rank and distinction for services, and, with the destruction of all degrees, "the motives for all high undertakings be stifled"? Even if the attraction of honors and false power treacherously obtained were to cease, could the poet admit of the most dreadful of all violence, that of the ignorant crowd ? He saw

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 than on any other day, all of which could have been avoided bad the inspections been carried out on a week-day. The reason they were made on Sunday was certainly not because there was no time for them on other days. The real reason probably was that Sunday was the most convenient day for the officers, as it left them greater leisure to follow their social and sporting pursuits during the week. It was only natural that the men should resent being hustled about and made to do unnecessary work on the one day of the week observed by everybody else in the country as a day of rest.

Divine service was not held for all denominations at the same time, but at hours suitable to local facilities. It might be at any time between eight o'clock and noon, and therefore it was not uncommon for men, on moving to a new station, to ask to change their religion if by so doing they would attend church or chapel at such an hour as would enable them to escape from the detested inspections. Many amusing stories are told about these changes, one being of a man who asked his sergeant-major to enter him in the books as belonging to the "Plymouth Brethren." He was promptly told that no such religion was officially recognised, and that he would be put down as a Roman Catholic!

On Christmas Day, 1877, I was detailed for my first military "duty," that of stable-guard or looking after the troop-horses out of stable-hours. The custom was to employ the most recently joined recruits on this particular day, se that the old soldiers might be free to make the most of their Christmas dinner, which was provided by the officer commanding the troop, and included a variety of eatables never seen, on any other day, as well as a liberal supply of beer. The casks containing the beer were brought some time before to the barrack-room where the dinner was to be held, and were there placed under charge of a man who could be depended upon to see that they were not broached before the appointed hour. Had this happened—as it sometimes did—rather awkward incidents might have occurred when the officers visited the room just previous to the dinner to wish the men a merry Christmas and to receive similar wishes in return. If any individual did, by some means or


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190 stood sleeping in the fields, with the ploughmen by their sides. All created animals were asleep. The leaves on the trees did not rustle, no wind brushed through the air, all was as still as in the grave. The people in the houses and in the street, walking, sitting, standing; all the cats, dogs, hens, horses, sheep, flies on the wall, and even the very smoke from the chimneys,—were all and each asleep. Such was the condition of the kingdom when Prince John rode through with the princess. They rode up to the palace, and there, on the marble steps, they saw the bodies of Prince Clement and Prince Peter, whom the immortal skeleton had killed.

Prince John went up the stairs; all was quiet. In the large hall there was evidently going to be a feast, people were standing all round, dressed in their Sunday best, but every one was sleeping. King Dymion was standing with all his courtiers behind him, while judges sat with unspoken words on their lips.

Prince John laughed at the sight, for it really was most amusing; then he brought in the dulcimers, and made them play. Hardly had they begun when up jumped all the people and began dancing, jumping, and turning somersaults—which were very fashionable in those days. The judges at once pronounced the words which they had not had time to utter. What they were I do not know.

When King Dymion woke and saw his beloved son standing before him with the beautiful princess, he was too delighted for words. He laughed, he cried, he looked at them, and fondled and embraced


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Rh them; in fact, he became so jolly, and laughed so much, that his sides shook. He then ordered guns to be fired, the bells to be rung, and the kingdom to be lighted up for Prince John's benefit.

Next day Prince John and the fair Princess Helen were married. There was to be a grand feast later, to which the whole population of that kingdom was invited; no one was to be left in the houses except the very old people and the very little babies. The club kept order, the delightful dulcimers played; but when everything was ready, and the feast was at its best, the grey wolf appeared. And this is how it happened:—

After drinking and eating fairly well, King Dymion and the guests heard a tremendous noise outside the palace; so they rushed to the windows to see what it was, and beheld a carriage of pure gold, drawn by eight horses, on which sat trumpeters with trumpets; behind the carriage were six armed footmen on horseback, while at the sides ran six powdered footmen, with gold lace on their red plush uniforms. But the most wonderful thing of all was the coat-of-arms on the carriage door. It consisted of a shield with a wolf's tail on a field sable, surmounted by a count's coronet.

Prince John looked into the carriage window as it stopped before the palace-door, and exclaimed,—

"This is my own dear old grey wolf again!" and he ran out to meet him. He opened the carriage-door himself, and helped his guest out.

After kissing each other very warmly, the prince took the wolf by the paw into the palace, and intro-


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Page:Marco Rubio and Others to Denis McDonough on Vaccine Injury.pdf/1

The Honorable Denis McDonough Secretary U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs 810 Vermont Avenue NW Washington, D.C. 20420

Dear Secretary McDonough:

We write for clarification on the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) policy for veterans who have injuries resulting from receiving the COVID-19 vaccine while in service. As you are aware, the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) required all service members to be vaccinated against COVID-19. Many service members, despite hesitations against receiving the vaccine, chose to be vaccinated to continue their service to our country. While the DoD’s vaccine mandate has been repealed as part of the James M. Inhofe National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023, the VA has an important role to play in providing benefits and healthcare for service members who are facing health impacts that resulted from the vaccine.

Thousands of service members were discharged from service as a result of refusing to receive the COVID-19 vaccine. Yet, some U.S. service members received the vaccine to maintain their service and have since experienced lasting health impacts as a result. If our government is asking service members to receive a vaccine, we must be cognizant that there will be unintended side effects that may cause lifelong impacts on their health. We must keep our promise to support our service members, including ensuring those who come to the VA for help with COVID-19 vaccine injuries are justly compensated and receive the care that they deserve.

For years, the VA has evaluated the health effects of certain vaccinations that veterans received during their service, and have expressed concern with certain health impacts arising from these vaccinations. The agency has also provided several resources to veterans seeking the COVID-19 vaccination, but no clear information about how to support members who are injured as a result of the vaccine. Given the high rate of service members who have been vaccinated against COVID-19 under DoD’s mandate, we request information as to how the VA is considering vaccine-related injuries in determining VA benefits and disability claims.

In order to better serve our constituents who may be seeking help from the VA related to injuries related to COVID-19 vaccines they received while a member of the Armed Forces, we request the following information:

What is the VA’s process for considering COVID-19 vaccine injuries for disability claims?


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192 duced him to the king. The wolf returned King Dymion's bow, and then sat down on his hind-legs, greatly to the amusement of the guests, and respectfully complimented the ladies and gentlemen, saying such very agreeable things that it made them feel even more at their ease than they had done before.

The grey wolf's costume was most extraordinary. He had a red cap on his head with green feathers in it; round his neck he had a blue silk ribbon; he wore a red velvet jacket embroidered with gold, lilac gloves with lace ruffles, a scarf round his waist; on his hind-feet he had slippers, and on his tail he wore a silver net ornamented with diamonds.

The feast continued until very late at night; but as soon as it was dark the golden cassowary was brought in with its golden cage, and hung up on the balcony. The whole court shone like lightning immediately, so that no lamps were wanted, not even in the streets round about the palace, as the cassowary afforded light enough.

The grey wolf stopped all night at the palace, but when morning came he was ready to go. However, Prince John begged him to remain in the palace, saying that they would give him all the comforts that could be desired, and that they would even give him a set of rooms all to himself if he wished it. The grey wolf at last consented, much to the prince's joy.

After a long period of happiness King Dymion died, and left all the kingdom to his son, who lived to a very old age with his queen, and was surrounded by a number of beautiful children.


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David S. D'Ascenzo, Esq. DASCENZO GATES Intellectual Property Law, P.C. either in two-dimensional or three-dimensional form."); § 906.2 ("Familiar symbols and designs are not protected by the Copyright Act.").

A work comprised of unprotectable elements may be registrable if such elements are configured in a creative manner, though not every combination or arrangement of unprotectable elements will be creative enough to qualify for copyright. See Feist, 499 U.S. at 358 (stating that, in determining whether work comprised of unprotectable elements is sufficiently creative, "the principal focus should be on whether the selection, coordination, and arrangement are sufficiently original to merit protection" but "[n]ot every selection, coordination, or arrangement will pass muster"); § 906.1 (stating that a "work that merely consists of common geometric shapes" will not be registered "unless the author's use of those shapes results in a work that, as a whole, is sufficiently creative");  § 906.2 ("A work that includes familiar symbols or designs may be registered if the registration specialist determines that the author used these elements in a creative manner and that the work as a whole is eligible for copyright protection."). Indeed, "a combination of unprotectable elements is eligible for copyright protection only if those elements are numerous enough and their selection and arrangement original enough that their combination constitutes an original work of authorship." Satava v. Lowry, 323 F.3d 805, 811 (9th Cir. 2003).

Applying these legal standards, the Board finds that the Work does not contain the requisite creativity necessary to sustain a claim to copyright. Both the individual elements of the Work and the Work as a whole fail to demonstrate sufficient creativity.

The individual elements of the Work are three horseshoe shapes and a shield shape, all rendered in black without shading or gradation in color. Neither common shapes nor familiar symbols or designs are copyrightable. See 37 C.F.R. § 202.1(a); §§ 906.1, 906.2; see also John Muller & Co. v. N.Y. Arrows Soccer Team, Inc., 802 F.2d 989, 889–990 (8th Cir. 1986) (upholding refusal to register "logo consist[ing] of four angled lines which form an arrow and the word 'Arrows' in cursive script below the arrow"); Coach, Inc. v. Peters, 386 F. Supp. 2d 495, 499 (S.D.N.Y. 2005) (upholding refusal to register pattern consisting of arrangements of letter "C"). Accordingly, the individual elements of the Work are not sufficiently creative to support a copyright claim.

Similarly, the combination of these unprotectable elements in the Work does not demonstrate sufficient creativity. The individual elements of the Work are arranged in a simple, obvious fashion: the horseshoes are centered in the shield, rotated at equal intervals relative to each other, and are overlapping. Since the elements are not sufficiently numerous and their arrangement is typical and garden-variety, the Work as a whole is not creative enough to be copyrightable. See Satava, 323 F.3d at 811; see also Feist, 499 U.S. at 362. That the Work may be "reminiscent of Celtic symbols or knots" or "suggestive of Ariat's equestrian roots" is not relevant to the question of whether the Work is sufficiently creative. Second Request at 2; § 310.3 (stating that "[t]he symbolic meaning or impression of a work is irrelevant" to determination of whether work is sufficiently creative). "[T]he Office will focus only on the actual appearance or sound of the work that has been submitted for registration, but


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Rh The old grey wolf lived on happily with King John, who loved him dearly. The wolf nursed the children till they grew up big enough to nurse themselves; he also taught them to read and write. Besides this, he told them any amount of fairy tales, which they enjoyed better than anything else.

But when King John died, the poor wolf died too, out of pure grief. Then papers were found hidden in his rooms, telling his history; and from those very papers our story is taken. O


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Index talk:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf

Quick notes

 * The ny and ng ligatures do not exist in Unicode, and have been temporarily replaced with ń and ñ.

title: Index talk:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf


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 My aunt laid down her knitting, looked at me over the rim of her spectacles, andtook snuff.

I said nothing.

"How many times have you been in love, Isaac?" said she.

It was now my turn to say"Pshaw!"

Judging from her look of assurance, I could not possibly have made a more satisfactory reply.

My aunt finished the needle she was upon—smoothed the stocking leg over her knee, and looking at me with a very comical expression, said,—"Isaac, you are a sad fellow!"

I did not like the tone of this: it sounded very much as if it would have been in the mouth of any one else'bad fellow.'

And she went on to ask me in a very bantering way, if my stock of youthful loves was not nearly exhausted; and she cited the episode of the fair-haired Enrica, as perhaps the most tempting that I could draw from my experience.

A better man than myself,—if he had only a fair share of vanity,—would have been nettled at this; and I replied somewhat tartly, that I had never professed to write my experiences. These might be more or less tempting; but certainly, if they were of a kind which I have attempted


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 to portray in the characters of Bella, or of Carry, neither my Aunt Tabithy nor any one else, should have learned such truth from any book of mine. There are griefs too sacred to be babbled to the world; and there may be loves, which one would forbear to whisper even to a friend.

No, no,—imagination has been playing pranks with memory; and if I have made the feeling real, I am content that the facts should be false. Feeling indeed has a higher truth in it, than circumstance. It appeals to a larger jury, for acquittal: it is approved or condemned by a better judge. And if I can catch this bolder and richer truth of feeling, I will not mind if the types of it are all fabrications.

If I run over some sweet experience of love, (my Aunt Tabithy brightened a little? must I make good the fact that the loved one lives, and expose her name and qualities, to make your sympathy sound? Or shall I not rather be working upon higher and holier ground, if I take the passion for itself, and so weave it into words, that you, and every willing sufferer may recognize the fervor, and forget the personality?

Life after all is but a bundle of hints, each suggesting actual and positive developement, but rarely reaching it. And as I recal these hints, and in fancy trace them


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194

upon a time there lived an old peasant with his wife, but children they had none; though they prayed and prayed night and day for a child to cheer them in their old age, no child made its appearance.

One day the peasant went out into the forest for mushrooms; and while he was gathering them, a very very old man came up to him, and putting his aged hand upon the peasant's shoulder, said kindly,—

"I know, my friend, what is troubling you. You are always wishing and praying that you might have some children. Is that not so? Very well, then, I will help you. Go to every yard in your village, and take from each hen-roost an egg, and then go home to your hut and put all the eggs you collect into your own hen-roost. What will happen after you will see for yourself."

So saying, the old man disappeared.

Away went the peasant into the village to do the old man's bidding. He went into every yard—there were forty-one in number—and taking an egg out of each hen-roost, he returned to his own hut and put the forty-one eggs into his hen-roost.

In a fortnight's time the peasant and his wife went to the hen-roost to see what had happened to the eggs; but, what was their surprise and delight, to


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Page:Triglot Vocabulary.pdf/77

 Yes Yesterday Yesterday, the day before Yield, to Yoke You Young Your Youth Zealous

ya klmarin; s-malam klmarin dhulu srahkan diri kok añkau; kamu muda añkau; kamu orañ muda rajin

ū; sī; tio̍h chā-ji̍t chō-ji̍t niūⁿ ka-chhia; gû-taⁿ lí; lín; lú siàu-liên; chíⁿ; iù lí-ê siàu-liên-lâñ jie̍t-sim; joa̍h-sim

hè tshàm-put-ńit tshên-ńit niòñ ak ñî nùn ńa-kài hèu-sañ-ńîn nie̍t-sim

着、是、有 昨日 昨日 讓 駕車 爾、恁 幼、細 汝的 少年 熱心

The most common terms used by native Christians.

Almighty Belong Belong to Church Bishop Conference Conference, quarterly Conference, district Conference, yearly Deacon Disciple, a Disobey Elder Leader (of a meeting) Lord's Supper

maha-kuasa - masok perhimponan bishop mushawarat mushawarat kchil mushawarat jajahan mushawarat bsar diakon murid lañgar hukum ktua kpala perjamuan Tuhan

bô-só͘-m̄-oē sio̍k sio̍k-kàu-bōe kám-tok tāi-hōe kùi-hōe liên-khoân-hōe nî-hōe chip-sū ba̍k-señ ûi-ke̍h; pōe-ge̍k tiúⁿ-ló chú-lí-ê-lâñ boán-chhan

vû-só-put-nên shúk shúk-káu-fùi kám-tuk thài-fùi kwùi-fùi liên-vân-fùi ńên-fùi chip-s̀ bo̍k-sañ pòi-ńák chhôñ-láu chú-li-kài-ńín man-tshan

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 Does the VA consider COVID-19 vaccine injuries as service-related if the service member received the vaccine during service? Has the VA investigated the health effects of COVID-19 vaccine injuries? What resources does the VA provide service members who are concerned that a COVID-19 vaccination led to their injury?

Thank you for your attention to this important matter.


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 to their issues, I am as truly dealing with life, as if my life had dealt them all to me.

This is what I would be doing in the present book;—I would catch up here and there the shreds of feeling, which the brambles and roughnesses of the world have left tangling on my heart, and weave them out into those soft, and perfect tissues, which—if the world had been only a little less rough,—might now perhaps enclose my heart altogether.

"Ah," said my Aunt Tabithy, as she smoothed the stocking leg again, with a sigh,—"there is after all but one youth-time: and if you put down its memories once, you can find no second growth."

My Aunt Tabithy was wrong. There is as much growth in the thoughts and feelings that run behind us, as in those that run before us. You may make a rich, full picture of your childhood to-day; but let the hour go by, and the darkness stoop to your pillow with its million shapes of the past, and my word for it, you shall have some flash of childhood lighten upon you, that was unknown to your busiest thought of the morning.

Let a week go by; and in some interval of care, as you recal the smile of a mother, or some pale sister who is dead, a new crowd of memories will rush upon your soul, and


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 leave their traces in such tears as will make you kinder and better for days and weeks. Or you shall assist at some neighbor funeral, where the little dead one—(like one you have seen before)—shall hold in its tiny grasp—(as you have taught little dead hands to do)—fresh flowers, laughing flowers, lying lightly on the white robe of the dear child —all pale—cold—silent

I had touched my Aunt Tabithy: she had dropped a stitch in her knitting. I believe she was weeping.

—Aye, this brain of ours is a master worker, whose appliances we do not one-half know; and this heart of ours is a rare storehouse, furnishing the brain with new material every hour of our lives; and their limits we shall not know, until they shall end—together.

Nor is there, as many faint-hearts imagine, but one phase of earnestness in our life of feeling. One train of deep emotion cannot fill up the heart: it radiates like a star, God-ward and earth-ward. It spends and reflects all ways. Its force is to be reckoned not so much by token, as by capacity. Facts are the poorest and most slumberous evidences of passion, or of affection. True feeling is ranging everywhere; whereas your actual attachments are too apt to be tied to sense.


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 A single affection may indeed be true, earnest and absorbing; but such an one after all, is but a type—and if the object be worthy, a glorious type—of the great book of feeling; it is only the vapor from the cauldron of the heart, and bears no deeper relation to its exhaustless sources, than the letter which my pen makes, bears to the thought that inspires it,—or than a single morning strain of your orioles and thrushes, bears to that wide bird-chorus, which is making every sunrise—a worship, and every grove—a temple!

My Aunt Tabithy nodded.

Nor is this a mere bachelor fling against constancy. I can believe, Heaven knows, in an unalterable and unflinching affection, which neither desires nor admits the prospect of any other. But when one is tasking his brain to talk for his heart,—when he is not writing positive history, but only making mention (as it were) of the heart's capacities, who shall say that he has reached the fullness,—that he has exhausted the stock of its feeling, or that he has touched its highest notes? It is true there is but one heart in a man to be stirred; but every stir creates a new combination of feeling, that like the turn of a kaleidoscope will show some fresh color, or form.

A bachelor to be sure has a marvellous


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 advantage in this; and with the tenderest influences once anchored in the bay of marriage, there is little disposition to scud off under each pleasant breeze of feeling. Nay, I can even imagine—perhaps somewhat captiously—that after marriage, feeling would become a habit, a rich and holy habit certainly, but yet a habit, which weakens the omnivorous grasp of the affections, and schools one to a unity of emotion, that doubts and ignores the promptness and variety of impulse, which we bachelors possess.

My aunt nodded again.

Could it be that she approved what I had been saying? I hardly knew.

Poor old lady,—she did not know herself. She was asleep!


text: Letter from Marco Rubio and Others to Denis McDonough on Vaccine Injuries


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Rh behold forty-one tiny little boys! forty of whom were beautifully plump and rosy, while the forty-first was very thin and seemed delicate.

The peasants then began to think what names they should give all these forty-one boys, and, I must say, found it rather difficult. However, after a great deal of trouble, they at last settled on suitable names for the forty youngsters; but when they came to the forty-first, they were at a loss what name to give him.

"Call him Starveling," said the peasant at last to his wife, "for he looks so weak and half-starved."

Now these forty-one boys began to grow; not by days, but by hours; and were a great help to their parents, doing all the work for them. The forty lads who were so strong and healthy worked in the fields, while Starveling stayed at home and did all the house-work.

At last the hay-making time came, and the forty sons set to work to mow the grass in the fields. They worked for a week, and then returned home to eat, drink, and sleep as long as they could.

"Lazy fellows!" said the father, laughing; "they eat as much as they can and sleep more, but as to work, I don't suppose they have done anything!"

"Better go and see, father," said Starveling; "see whether they have worked before you call them lazy."

The peasant dressed himself the following morning, and went into the meadows to see what his sons had done, and saw, to his astonishment, forty hay-ricks standing in a row.


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AVING silenced my Aunt Tabithy, I shall be generous enough in my triumph, to offer an explanatory chat to my reader.

This is a history of Dreams; and there will be those who will sneer at such a his tory, as the work of a dreamer. So indeed it is; and you, my courteous reader, are a dreamer too!

You would perhaps like to find your speculations about wealth, marriage or in fluence, called by some better name than Dreams. You would like to see the history of them if written at all baptized at the font of your own vanity, with some such title as life's cares, or life's work. If there had been a philosophic naming to my observations, you might have reckoned them good: as it is, you count them all bald and palpable fiction.

But is it so? I care not how matter of


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196 "What splendid lads!" exclaimed the peasant. "How well they have worked in that short week. I should never have thought it of them."

Next day the peasant went again to have a look at the hay-ricks, but this time one was missing. When he saw this he at once bent his steps homewards, greatly distressed at the loss.

"My dear children," he cried, "one of the hay-ricks is missing!"

"Never mind, father," said Starveling, "we shall soon catch the thief. Give me a hundred pounds, and I will manage the whole thing for you."

The peasant gave him the money, and Starveling went to a blacksmith, and said,—

"Can you make me a thick iron chain which, when thrown at a man, would wind itself round him from head to foot, and would not break however much the man struggled?"

The blacksmith set to work.

"See that you make it very strong," Starveling said. "If it does not break I will give you a hundred pounds; but if it breaks, then your labour is lost."

The blacksmith soon finished the chain and gave it to Starveling, who immediately began to wind it round himself as tightly as he possibly could; but when he struggled a little it gave way. The blacksmith then set to work and made it twice as thick and as strong as before. This time it was all right.

Starveling took the chain, gave the hundred pounds, and went to watch the hay. He seated himself under a hay-rick and waited.

Suddenly, at about midnight, the weather, which


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 fact you may be, you have in your own life, at some time, proved the very truth of what I have set down: and the chances are, that even now, gray as you may be, and economic as you may be, and devotional as you pretend to be, you light up your Sabbath reflections with just such dreams of wealth, of per centages, or of family, as you will find scattered over these pages.

I am not to be put aside with any talk about stocks, and duties, and respectability: all these though very eminent matters, are but so many types in the volume of your thought; and your eager resolves about them, are but so many ambitious waves, breaking up from that great sea of dreamy speculation, that has spread over your soul, from its first start into the realm of.

No man's brain is so dull, and no man's eye so blind, that they cannot catch food for dreams. Each little episode of life is full, had we but the perception of its fullness. There is no such thing as blank, in the world of thought. Every action and emotion have their development growing and gaining on the soul. Every affection has its tears and smiles. Nay, the very material world is full of meaning, and by suggesting thought, is making us what we are, and what we will be.


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 The sparrow that is twittering on the edge of my balcony, is calling up to me this moment, a world of memories that reach over half my life time, and a world of hope that stretches farther than any flight of sparrows. The rose-tree which shades his mottled coat is full of buds and blossoms; and each bud and blossom its a token of promise, that has issues covering life, and reaching beyond death. The quiet sunshine beyond the flower and beyond the sparrow,—glistening upon the leaves, and playing in delicious waves of warmth over the reeking earth, is lighting both heart and hope, and quickening into activity a thousand thoughts of what has been, and of what will be. The meadow stretching away under its golden flood—waving with grain, and with the feathery blossoms of the grass, and golden butter cups, and white, nodding daisies, comes to my eye like the lapse of fading childhood,—studded here and there with the bright blossoms of joy, crimsoned all over with the flush of health, and enamelled with memories that perfume the soul. The blue hills beyond, with deep blue shadows gathered in their bosom, lie before me like mountains of years, over which I shall climb through shadows to the slope of Age, and go down to the deeper shadows of Death.


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 Nor are dreams without their variety, whatever your character may be. I care not how much, in the pride of your practical judgment, or in your learned fancies, you may sneer at any dream of love, and I reckon it all a poet's fiction: there are times when such dreams come over you like a summer cloud, and almost stifle you with their warmth.

Seek as you will for increase of lands or moneys, and there are moments when a spark of some giant mind will flash over your cravings, and wake your soul suddenly to a quick, and yearning sense of that influence which is begotten of intellect; and you task your dreams—as I have copied them here—to build before you the pleasures of such a renown.

I care not how worldly you may be: there are times when all distinctions seem like dust, and when at the graves of the great, you dream of a coming country, where your proudest hopes shall be dimmed forever.

Married or unmarried, young or old, poet or worker, you are still a dreamer, and will one time know, and feel, that your life is butadream. Yet youcall this fiction: you stave off the thoughts in print which come over you in reverie. You will not admit to the eye what is true to the heart. Poor weakling, and worldling,—you are not strong enough to face yourself!


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 You will read perhaps with smiles: you will possibly praise the ingenuity: you will talk, with a lip schooled against the slightest quiver, of some bit of pathos, and say that it is—well done. Yet why is it well done? —only because it is stolen from your very life and heart. It is good, because it is so common:—ingenious, because it is so honest:—well-conceived, because it is not conceived at all.

There are thousands of mole-eyed people, who count all passion in print—a lie:—people who will grow into a rag eat trifles, and weep in the dark, and love in secret, and hope without mention, and cover it all under the cloak of what they call—propriety. I can see before me now some gray-haired old gentleman, very money-getting, very correct, very cleanly, who reads the morning paper with unction, and his Bible with determination: who listens to dull sermons with patience, and who prays with quiet self-applause,—and yet there are moments belonging to his life, when his curdled affections eae for something that they have not, when his avarice oversteps all the commandments,—when his pride builds castles full of splendor; and yet put this before his eye, and he reads with the most careless air in the world, and condemns as arrant fiction, what cannot be proved to the elders.


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 We do not like to see our emotions unriddled: it is not agreeable to the proud man to find his weaknesses exposed: it is shocking to the disappointed lover to see his heart laid bare: it is a great grief to the pining maiden to witness the exposure of her loves. We do not like our fancies painted we do not contrive them for rehearsal: our dreams are private, and when they are made public, we disown them.

I sometimes think that I must be a very honest fellow, for writing down those fancies which every one else seems afraid to whisper. I shall at least, come in for m share of the odium in entertaining such fancies: indeed I shall expect the charge of entertaining them exclusively; and shall scarce expect to find a single fellow-confessor, unless it be some pure, and innocent thoughted girl, who will say peccavi, to—here and there—a single rainbow fancy.

Well, I can bear it; but in bearing it, I shall be consoled with the reflection that I have a great company of fellow-sufferers, who lack only the honesty to tell me of their sympathy. It will even relieve in no small degree my burden, to watch the effort they will take to conceal, what I have so boldly divulged.

Nature is very much the same thing in one man, that it is in another: and as I


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 have already said, Feeling has a higher truth in it, than circumstance. Let it only be touched fairly and honestly, and the heart of humanity answers; but if it be touched foully or one-sidedly, you may find here and there a lame-souled creature who will give response, but there is no heart throb in it.

Of one thing I am sure:—if my pictures are fair, worthy, and hearty, you must see it in the reading: but if they are forced and hard, no amount of kindness can make you feel their truth as I want them felt.

I make no self-praise out of this: if feeling has been honestly set down, it is only in virtue of a native impulse, over which I have altogether too little control; but if it is set down badly, I have wronged Nature, and, (as Nature is kind) I have wronged myself.

A great many inquisitive people will, I do not doubt, be asking after all this prelude, if my pictures are true pictures? The question,—the courteous reader will allow me to say,—is an impertinent one. It is but a shabby truth that wants an author's affidavit to make it trust-worthy. I shall not help my story by any such poor support. If there are not enough elements of truth, honesty and nature in


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 my pictures, to make them believed, they shall have no oath of mine to bolster them up.

I have been a sufferer in this way before now; and a little book that I had the whim to publish a year since, has been set down by many as an arrant piece of imposture. Claiming sympathy as a Bachelor, I have been recklessly set down as a cold, undeserving man of family! My story of troubles and loves has been sneered at, as the sheerest gammon.

But among this crowd of cold-blooded critics, it was pleasant to hear of one or two pursy old fellows who railed at me, for winning the affections of a sweet Italian girl, and then leaving her to pine in discontent! Yet in the face of this, an old companion of mine in Rome, with whom I accidentally met the other day,—wondered how on earth I could have made so tempting a story out of the matronly and blackhaired spinster, with whom I happened to be quartered in the Eternal City!

I shall leave my critics to settle such differences between themselves; and consider it far better to bear with slanders from both sides of the house, than to bewray the pretty tenderness of the pursy old gentlemen, or to cast a doubt upon the practical testimony of my quondam


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. Both give me high and judicious compliment—all the more grateful because only half deserved. For I never yet was conscious—alas, that the confession should be forced from me!—of winning the heart of any maiden whether native, or Italian; and as for such delicacy of imagination as to work up a lovely damsel out of the withered remnant that forty odd years of Italian life can spare, I can assure my middle-aged friends, (and it may serve as a caveat)—I can lay no claim to it whatever.

The trouble has been, that those who have believed one passage have discredited another; and those who have sympathized with me in trifles, have deserted me when affairs grew earnest. I have had sympathy enough with my married griefs; but when it came to the perplexing torments of my single life not a weeper could I find!

I would suggest to those who intend to believe only half of my present book, that they exercise a little discretion in their choice. I am not fastidious in the matter; and only ask them to believe what counts most toward the goodness of humanity, and to discredit—if they will persist in it—only what tells badly for our common nature. The man or the woman who believes well, is apt to work well; and Faith is as much the key to happiness here, as it is the key to happiness hereafter.


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 I have only one thing more to say, before I get upon my story. A great many sharp-eyed people, who have a horror of light reading—by which they mean whatever does not make mention of stocks, cottons, or moral homilies,—will find much fault with my book for its ephemeral character,

I am sorry that I cannot gratify such? homilies are not at all in my habit; and it does seem to me an exhausting way of disposing of a good moral, to hammer it down to a single point, so that there shall be only one chance of driving it home. For my own part, I count it a great deal better philosophy to fuse it, and rarify it, so that it shall spread out into every crevice of a story, and give a color and a taste, as it were, to the whole mass.

I know there are very good people, who if they cannot lay their finger on so much doctrine set down in old fashioned phrase, will never get an inkling of it at all. With such people, goodness is a thing of understanding, more than of feeling; and all their morality has its action in the brain.

God forbid that I should sneer at this terrible infirmity, which Providence has seen fit to inflict: God forbid too, that I should not be grateful to the same kind Providence, for bestowing upon others among his creatures a more genial


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Rh had hitherto been delightfully calm and pleasant, changed; the wind blew, the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and the sea rose, while out of the midst of the furious waves came a wonderful white horse; which galloped up to the first hay-rick, and commenced devouring the hay.

Starveling sprang up quickly, and throwing the iron chain round the horse, jumped on its back. The animal, not liking the sudden turn things had taken, tried to throw his rider off, but in vain. The horse then began galloping, jumping, and dancing about, but still Starveling kept his seat firmly. At last, finding that it was useless trying to get the young fellow off, the horse stopped suddenly, and turning his beautiful head to Starveling, said,—

"Young man, since you have been clever enough to catch me and ride on my back—which no one has ever been able to do before—I will make you a present of all my brother horses."

So saying, this extraordinary creature went to the seaside, and began calling out something in a very loud voice, and immediately the angry waves rose, and out of the depths of the sea came forty white ponies, each prettier than the other. Starveling stared in astonishment, never had he seen such beautiful animals!

Next morning the peasant heard a terrific noise in the yard. He listened; it sounded as though some one had by mistake driven a troop of horses into his farm, for the stamping and neighing was simply too dreadful! He called his forty sons, and they all rushed into the yard to see what it meant, and


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 of true goodness, and a heart sympathy with every shade of human kindness.

But in all this, I am not making out a case for my own correct teaching, or insinuating the propriety of my tone. I shall leave the book in this regard, to speak for itself; and whoever feels himself growing—worse for the reading, I advise to lay it down. It will be very harmless on the shelf, however it may be in the hand.

I shall lay no claim to the title of moralist, teacher, or romancist:—my thoughts start pleasant pictures to my mind; and in a garrulous humor, I put my finger in the button-hole of my indulgent friend, and tell him some of them,—giving him leave to quit me whenever he chooses.

Or, if a lady is my listener, let her fancy me only an honest, simple-hearted fellow, whose familiarities are so innocent that she can pardon them;—taking her hand in his, and talking on;—sometimes looking in her eyes, and then looking into the sunshine for relief;—sometimes prosy with narrative, and then sharpening up my matter with a few touches of honest pathos; —let her imagine this, I say, and we ma become the most excellent friends in the world.


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The Old Brown Hen

The bane of my life is an old brown hen, You never know where you will find her, or when; She's all day long on her wings or her feet, Tormenting the neighbours, or out in the street; There never was fence built so high it could pen Or keep out of mischief that old brown hen.

She scratches the flower-beds, takes out the seed, Then gets in the manger and scatters the feed; She wakes up the baby, and flies at the cat, And tears, like a fury, the fibre door-mat. Sometimes I could kill her in cold blood: but then She lays a fine egg—does the old brown hen.

She upsets the dust-box, fills up the sink, Then leaves on the white step a footprint like ink; She makes me so angry, the bird I could choke; I chase her with potsticks, and pelt her with coke. But would you believe it? Nine times out of ten She dodges them all, does the old brown hen.

No beauty or breed has the old brown hen, She never set foot in a fancier's pen; Her breast has no feathers, her tail is awry, And sometimes I think she is blind of an eye, Nobody would steal her, that's certain, but then They don't know her value—the old brown hen.

She's laying or hatching the whole year round, She nests in the long grass, and sits on the ground; And though she's a terror, and so full of tricks. If I do not get eggs I'm sure to got chicks. She never once brought out chicks fewer than ten— She pays for her keep, does the old brown hen.

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HE old chroniclers made the year begin in the season of frosts; and they have launched us upon the current of the months, from the snowy banks of January. I love better to count time, from spring to spring; it seems to me far more cheerful, to reckon the year by blossoms, than by blight.

Bernardin de St. Pierre, in his sweet story of Virginia, makes the bloom of the cocoa-tree, or the growth of the banana, a yearly and a loved monitor of the passage of her life. How cold and cheerless in the comparison, would be the icy chronology of the North;So many years have I seen the lakes locked, and the foliage die!

The budding and blooming of spring, seem to belong properly to the opening of the months. It is the season of the


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Index talk:The Up-to-Date Sandwich Book.djvu

Repairing the Table of Contents
There has to be a way to improve the table of contents. I adapted the table of contents from the one of the book The Tsar's Window, but at least the appearance of the red links doesn't seem to work. -- Apisite (talk) 01:30, 12 October 2023 (UTC)

 * I have updated the links, but red links are fine at the moment as you haven't transcluded the pages to mainspace yet, which is where those links are pointing at. Have a look at Help:Transclusion. After you have completed proofreading, you can transclude the proofread pages to mainspace.
 * Also, to properly complete your proofreading, you need to add the missing images. Have a look at the help pages if you want to try it yourself. I'm no expert at it myself so you can ask for help from User:Sp1nd01 for images. You also need to center align the titles in most of the pages of this work. Use the Template:center as you've done on this page. Ciridae (talk) 04:49, 12 October 2023 (UTC)


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 expansion, of the warmest blood, of the readiest growth; it is the boy-age of the year. The birds sing in chorus in the spring—Just as children prattle; the brooks run full—like the overflow of young hearts; the showers drop easily—as young tears flow; and the whole sky is as capricious as the mind of a boy.

Between tears and smiles, the year, like the child, struggles into the warmth of life. The old year,—say what the chronologists will,—lingers upon the very lap of spring; and is only fairly gone, when the blossoms of April have strewn their pall of glory upon his tomb, and the blue-birds have chanted his requiem. It always seems to me as if an access of life came with the melting of the winter's snows; and as if every rootlet of grass that lifted its first green blade from the matted debris of the old year's decay, bore my spirit upon it, nearer to the largess of Heaven.

I love to trace the break of spring step by step: I love even those long rain-storms that sap the icy fortresses of the lingering winter,—that melt the snows upon the hills, and swell the mountain-brooks;—that make the pools heave up their glassy cerements of ice, and hurry down the crashing fragments into the wastes of ocean.


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They Are Taking the Old Piano

They're taking the old piano,
 * They're lifting it from the floor.

A carrier's cart is waiting
 * Outside the old home door.

And Mother is mutely watching
 * With tears on her faded cheek;

I wonder of what she's thinking,
 * Her heart is too full to speak.

Perhaps of the day he brought her,
 * When out from a wreathed arch

There rang from the old piano
 * Bright bars of a bridal march.

Or maybe when long years after
 * It wailed the dead march in Saul,

As slowly he went for ever
 * Enwrapped in funeral pall.

I know by her pain drawn features
 * How tightly it's chords entwine,

I know the piano corner
 * To her is a wasted shrine.

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 I love the gentle thaws that you can grace, day by day, by the stained snow-banks, shrinking from the grass; and, by the gentle drip of the cottage-eaves. I love to search out the sunny slopes by a southern wall, where the reflected sun does double duty to the earth, and where the frail anemone, or the faint blush of the arbutus, in the midst of the bleak March atmosphere, will touch your heart, like a hope of Heaven, in a field of graves! Later come those soft, smoky days, when the patches of winter grain show green under the shelter of leafless woods, and the last snow-drifts, reduced to shrunken skeletons of ice, lie upon the slope of northern hills, Jeaking away their life.

Then, the grass at your door grows into the color of the sprouting grain, and the buds upon the lilacs swell, and burst. The peaches bloom upon the wall, and the plums wear bodices of white. The sparking oriole picks string for his hammock on the sycamore, and the sparrows twitter in pairs. The old elms throw down their dingy flowers, and color their spray with green; and the brooks, where you throw your worm or the minnow, float down whole fleets of the crimson blossoms of the maple. Finally, the oaks step into the opening quadrille of spring, with greyish


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 tufts of a modest verdure, which, by and by, will be long and glossy leaves. The dog-wood pitches his broad, white tent, in the edge of the forest; the dandelions lie along the hillocks, like stars in a sky of green; and the wild cherry, growing in all the hedge-rows, without other culture than God's, lifts up to Him, thankfully, its tremulous white fingers,

Amid all this, come the rich rains of spring. The affections of a boy grow up with tears to water them; and the year blooms with showers. But the clouds hover over an April sky, timidly like shadows upon innocence. The showers come gently, and drop daintily to the earth, with now and then a glimpse of Sunshine to make the drops bright like so many tears of joy.

The rain of winter is cold, and it comes in bitter scuds that blind you; but the rain of April steals upon you coyly, half reluc tantly, yet lovingly like the steps of a bride to the Altar.

It does not gather like the storm-clouds of winter, grey and heavy along the horizon, and creep with subtle and insensible approaches (like age) to the very zenith; but there are a score of white-winged swimmers afloat, that your eye has chased, as you lay fatigued with the delicious


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Heydon J

"We were invited by the Solicitor-General to hold that a law whose effect is to provide for the acquisition of property is not a law with respect to the acquisition of property when it also happens to be a regulatory law which prohibits and penalizes obnoxious or undesirable trade practices by corporations. The argument accompanying this invitation was rather elusive."

Mason J rejected the argument. It did not prevail. Yet it was repeated in these cases in relation to "obnoxious or undesirable" tobacco advertising practices.

In 1993, in Georgiadis v Australian and Overseas Telecommunications Corporation, another Solicitor-General submitted that the expression "just terms" is an expression which "extends to what is fair, taking into account the interests of the community." That submission did not prevail either. It was specifically rejected by Brennan J. Yet it was repeated in these cases.

These are just minor examples of a common characteristic of's 51(xxxi) litigation–that the Commonwealth repeats arguments it has advanced in earlier cases over many years, despite their failure, and often their repeated failure.

After a "great" constitutional case, the tumult and the shouting dies. The captains and the kings depart. Or at least the captains do; the Queen in Parliament remains forever. Solicitors-General go. New Solicitors-General come. This world is transitory. But some things never change. The flame of the Commonwealth's hatred for that beneficial constitutional guarantee, s 51(xxxi), may flicker, but it will not die. That is why it is eternally important to ensure that that flame does not start a destructive blaze.

In JT International SA v Commonwealth of Australia, there should have been an order declaring that the Tobacco Plain Packaging Act 2011 (Cth) is invalid (apart from s 15, as to which it is unnecessary to decide) and an order that the defendant should pay the plaintiff's costs.

In British American Tobacco Australia Ltd v Commonwealth of Australia, the questions reserved should have been answered:

1. Yes.

2. No.


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Heydon J

1. All except s 15 (as to which it is unnecessary to decide).

2. All.

3. The defendant should pay the plaintiffs' costs.


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 author than an Englih courtier: for I hould not have writ againt Sir Robert, or taken the pains to hew his mitakes, inconitencies, and want of (what he o much boats of, and pretends wholly to build on) cripture-proofs, were there not men amongt us, who, by crying up his books, and epouing his doctrine, ave me from the reproach of writing againt a dead adverary. They have been o zealous in this point, that, if I have done him any wrong, I cannot hope they hould pare me. I wih, where they have done the truth and the public wrong, they would be as ready to redres it, and allow its jut weight to this reflection, viz. that there cannot be done a greater michief to prince and people, than the propagating wrong notions concerning government; that o at lat all times might not have reaon to complain of the Drum Eccleiatic. If any one, concerned really for truth, undertake the confutation of my Hypotheis, I promie him either to recant my mitake, upon fair conviction; or to anwer his difficulties. But he mut remember two things,

Firt, That cavilling here and there, at ome expreion, or little incident of my dicoure, is not an anwer to my book.

Secondly, That I hall not take railing for arguments, nor think either of thee worth my notice, though I hall always look on myelf as bound to give atisfacton to any one, who hall appear to be concientiouly crupulous


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 crupulous in the point, and hall hew any jut grounds for his cruples.

I have nothing more, but to advertie the reader, that Obervations tands for Obervations on Hobbs, Milton, &c. and that a bare quotation of pages always means pages of his Patriarcha, Edition 1680.


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 at Constance from a great distance, below all the fine gentlemen and young nobles of the court. And certainly it did not seem likely that this beautiful lady would take the trouble to climb up the many stairs that led to the poet's chamber, and lighten his dark room with the golden glory of her hair, and the rays from those deep blue eyes of hers: when there was such brave lodging to be had on the ground floor amid silk and velvet and all manner of rich furniture. But one can never get at the Rhyme and Reason of Love, whose decrees are not to be questioned nor reformed, one must only bow the head and say 'So be it' without enquiring into the why and wherefore. And perhaps Constance saw something in Luigi's features not visible to other people at that time; I mean, all those sweet amorous conclusions and gracious meditations which you may find in the twelve books of "Il Pastor Intronato", which, as I have said, were fashioned with such curious and painful art that they have never been surpassed nor equalled by any of our Tuscan poets. But let the reasons be what they may, it became very plain to Luigi that those swift glances were meant for none but himself, and before long he shyly ventured to return them, and was not less than rapturous when one day the duchess drew him apart before all her ladies and courtiers, and walked with him in the garden, though, indeed, he could find but little wit wherewith to answer all the pleasant speeches and delicate little compliments of his noble mistress. But that malicious maiden Agnes laughed, for she saw that her counsel was

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 being taken after all; and then laughed again saying to herself "Truly these great ladies make an odd choice." As for the poet, his ideas and rational faculties were in a very confused state, and obscured, pleasantly enough, by golden and rosy-coloured clouds which floated in his brain; but before the actual sun had set that night, the sun of love rose for poor Luigi and began to shine upon him and to scorch his heart with a heat that was of the noonday. And whereas the duchess had merely intended to make her husband's conscience prick him, she had made this fierce flame of love lighten the poor scholar, kindling in his breast all manner of desires and cravings which poverty had hitherto effectually subdued, and illuminating his cell with the blaze of that ardent lamp which chows everything so plainly. But her husband made no account of Constance's kindness to Messer Luigi, nor is it clearly ascertained that he so much as saw it, though it became every day more evident to the ladies and nobles of the Court, who began to think there must be rather more in the poor poet than they had suspected. And so long as this strangely matched couple merely sauntered about the walks of the garden before the eyes of all, I don't think much harm was done, though Luigi's compliments were getting rather high-flown and fetched from a tremendous distance, and Constance looked more and more softly upon him, perceiving that his mind was lovelier than his body, though even in this latter she tried to see some excellence and worship. But when it came to the mistress and her servant dropping far behind

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 the rest in their walks along the alleys, I believe the duke would have done well to take some order with them, and to become jealous as was expected of him. But he had peered so long at his manuscripts that he had become rather shortsighted in other affairs; so that Constance and Luigi by slow degrees became lovers in real earnest on both sides, instead of on one only, as it had been at the beginning. I know not precisely how, when, or where this was declared between them, or if it were ever so declared, since the fair dialects of passion in those days led noble lovers onward by fine phrases and Platonical sentiments, so that all abrupt and sudden falls from friendship into love were avoided, and from Ville des pensées to Chasteau de par amours was a brave road through a delicious country, abounding in sunlit meadows, shady groves and rippling brooks, thrilling with the song of nightingales. Imagine then, I pray you, my beautiful Constance, (who assuredly must have carried in her bosom a wonderful spell against Sirius, for that malefic star could not hurt her nor scorch her red and white), and the little dark man with hungry eyes in his dingy scholar's vestments walking hand in hand (ah! how fiercely pressed together) down the long road; and halting now and again for a little while in the arbours by the way. But mark, now the poor poet leads and beckons Constance to hasten onward, and she cannot disobey him, and had he bade her kiss him before the whole court I verily believe she would not have refused, since he was her Lord Paramount and held that enchanting body

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Crennan J

CRENNAN J. The issues in these two proceedings, the relevant facts, and the relevant provisions of the Tobacco Plain Packaging Act 2011 (Cth) ("the Packaging Act") and the Tobacco Plain Packaging Regulations 2011 (Cth) ("the Regulations") can be found in other reasons, obviating the need to set out those matters except as necessary to inform these reasons. The plaintiffs challenge the Packaging Act principally on the basis that its operation will effect an acquisition of their property otherwise than on just terms, contrary to s 51(xxxi) of the Constitution. It will be determined in these reasons that their respective challenges fail. I agree with the orders on the demurrer and with the answers to the reserved questions proposed by Gummow J. Accordingly, I joined in the orders pronounced on 15 August 2012.

The details of the two proceedings, the plaintiffs (each one a constitutional corporation) and the interveners are set out in the reasons of Gummow J and are adopted here. His Honour also sets out the particulars of the plaintiffs' claims to property said to fall within the meaning of s 51(xxxi), including those claims based on the statutory species of property protected under the Trade Marks Act 1995 (Cth) ("the Trade Marks Act"), the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth) ("the Copyright Act"), the Designs Act 2003 (Cth) ("the Designs Act") and the Patents Act 1990 (Cth) ("the Patents Act"), which I do not need to repeat.

Those particulars show that a preponderance of the registered trade marks relied upon as part of the plaintiffs' challenge to the Packaging Act are composite trade marks consisting of the brand name "Winfield" (in the BAT proceedings) and the brand names "Camel" and "Old Holborn" (in the JTI proceedings), together with other non-verbal graphic material. In the JTI proceedings, two of the four registered trade marks relied upon consisted of the brand name "Camel" alone, one of which was in fancy script. In the BAT proceedings, no claim under the Trade Marks Act was made in relation to the brand name "Dunhill", although that brand name has been used in the trade in tobacco products together with the subject matter of the registered design and patent referred to in those proceedings. All product get-up was associated with trade marks, or brand names, and included colours, logos, devices and fancy lettering or markings. The original artistic work in which copyright was claimed in the BAT proceedings appeared to be applied in product get-up.


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 with all its loveliness bound fast in his service. In short they reached the valley together and mounted up unto the wonderful Chasteau de Par Amours, where, certes, there is choice entertainment and soft lodging; musick too from horns, harps, and vyalls to pierce the heart; and deambulatories in rose-gardens and along incredible galleries hanging from the summits of pinnacled tower and of stony wall. But alas! one must pay one's shot for all this, the musick turns at last to sickness and fear, there's nightshade amidst the rose hedges, and sharp rocks below those high hanging ways. What shall I say of the overshadowed parliaments in the woods, their countersigns and secret signals to one another, and of the times when Constance, full of shame yet fuller of love, went stealthily in the dead of night along dark passages by the savage warriors of the arras, and up the long weary winding stair to Luigi's chamber? Once Duke Guido met her and asked her what she did at such an hour, but the keen wit of a woman in love easily found an excuse to satisfy her husband, so the revelling at the Castle went on gaily. You see all her notions of winning her husband's love had quite fallen into forgetfulness, and she thought only of enjoying Luigi's, wondering dimly, now and then, as she lay in his arms, at her old innocent life, but never desiring that it might come back. For when it has come to this pass, and the drawbridge of the castle has been drawn up, a woman who is sharp-witted knows that there is no returning: the card is on the board and may not be taken again. How

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Crennan J

The legislative context of the Packaging Act is of particular importance because the provisions refer to the Trade Marks Act and to Commonwealth legislation concerning the product information to be placed on the retail packaging of tobacco products. The Commerce (Trade Descriptions) Act 1905 (Cth) is also mentioned.

Relevantly, the Trade Marks Act provides that a registered owner of a trade mark has an exclusive right to use the trade mark, an exclusive right to authorise other persons to use the trade mark , a right to obtain relief in respect of infringement , and a right to assign a trade mark with or without the goodwill of the business concerned in the relevant goods. The exclusive right to use the mark is a negative right to exclude others from using it. A positive right to obtain registration on the satisfaction of certain conditions is "essentially ancillary" to the negative right. Section 17 defines a trade mark:

"A trade mark is a sign used, or intended to be used, to distinguish goods or services dealt with or provided in the course of trade by a person from goods or services so dealt with or provided by any other person."

A "sign" is defined in s 6(1) as including:

"the following or any combination of the following, namely, any letter, word, name, signature, numeral, device, brand, heading, label, ticket, aspect of packaging, shape, colour, sound or scent." (emphasis added)

It can be noted that the Packaging Act relevantly restricts the use of trade marks and brand names.

Section 21 of the Trade Marks Act is also important. It provides:


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Crennan J

1. A registered trade mark is personal property.

2. Equities in respect of a registered trade mark may be enforced in the same way as equities in respect of any other personal property."

Section 22(1) provides that a registered owner, subject only to any rights vested in another person, may deal with the trade mark as its absolute owner and give in good faith discharges for any consideration for that dealing.

Other prior legislation which puts the Packaging Act in context has been dealt with in the reasons of Kiefel J. This includes legislation at State and Territory level prohibiting or restricting the promotion of tobacco products at the point of retail sale.

Of particular importance is the Tobacco Advertising Prohibition Act 1992 (Cth). Section 15 of that Act prohibits tobacco advertisements, but s 9(2) provides that material that appears on the packaging of tobacco products or on the products themselves is not a tobacco advertisement. It is also necessary to note Commonwealth legislation covering product information standards. What material may appear on the packaging of tobacco products has been regulated by the Commonwealth Parliament with progressively greater stringency. Material required to be on tobacco product packaging includes health warnings (graphic images as well as text) and a reference to a "Quitline" telephone service and website. The relevant regulations—the Trade Practices (Consumer Product Information Standards) (Tobacco) Regulations 2004 (Cth) and the Competition and Consumer (Tobacco) Information Standard 2011 (Cth) ("the 2011 Information Standard")—are also dealt with in the reasons of Kiefel J, rendering it sufficient to note here that the 2011 Information Standard (which will effectively apply on and after 1 December 2012) requires this legislatively mandated product information to cover 75% of the front of the packaging and 90% of the back of the packaging.

The objects of the Packaging Act are to improve public health and to give effect to certain obligations that Australia has as a party to the World Health


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 of an April sun;—nor have you scarce noticed that a little bevy of those floating clouds had grouped together in a sombre company. But presently, you see across the fields, the dark grey streaks stretching like lines of mists, from the green bosom of the valley, to that spot of sky where the company of clouds is loitering; and with an easy shifting of the helm, the fleet of swimmers come drifting over you, and drop their burden into the dancing pools, and make the flowers glisten, and the eaves drip with their crystal bounty.

The cattle linger still, cropping the newcome grass; and childhood laughs joyously at the warm rain;—or under the cottage roof, catches with eager ear, the patter of its fall.

And with that patter on the roof,— so like to the patter of childish feet—my story of boyish dreams shall begin.


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T is an old garret with big, brown rafters; and the boards between are stained darkly with the rain-storms of fifty years. And as the sportive April shower quickens its flood, it seems as if its torrents would come dashing through the shingles, upon you, and upon your play. But it will not; for you know that the old roof is strong; and that it has kept you, and all that love you, for long years from the rain, .and from the cold: you know that the hardest storms of winter will only make a little oozing leak, that trickles down the brown stains,—like tears.

You love that old garret roof; and you nestle down under its slope, with a sense of its protecting power that no castle walls can give to your maturer years. Aye, your heart clings in boyhood to the roof-tree of the old family garret, with a grateful affection, and an earnest confidence, that the


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 after years—whatever may be their successes, or their honors—can never recreate. Under the roof-tree of his home, the boy feels : and where, in the whole realm of life, with its bitter toils, and its bitterer temptations, will he feel safe again?

But this you do not know. It seems only a grand old place; and it is capital fun to search in its corners, and drag out some bit of quaint old furniture, with a leg broken, and lay a cushion across it, and fix your reins upon the lion's claws of the feet, and then—gallop away! And you offer sister Nelly a chance, if she will be good; and throw out very patronizing words to little Charlie, who is mounted upon a much humbler horse,—to wit, a decrepid nursery-chair,—as he of right should be, since he 1s three years your junior.

I know no nobler forage ground for a romantic, venturesome, mischievous boy, than the garret of an old family mansion, on a day of storm. It isa perfect field of chivalry. The heavy rafters, the dashing rain, the piles of spare mattresses to carouse upon, the big trunks to hide in, the old white coats and hats hanging in obscure corners, like ghosts—are great! And it is so far away from the old lady, who keeps rule in the nursery, that there is no


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 {{hwe|ble|possible risk of a scolding, for twisting off the fringe of the rug. There is no baby in the garret to wake up. There is no 'company' in the garret to be disturbed by the noise. There is no crotchety old Uncle, or GrandMa, with their everlasting—"Boys—boys!"—and then a look of such horror!

There is great fun in groping through a tall barrel of books and pamphlets, on the look-out for startling pictures; and there are chestnuts in the garret, drying, which you have discovered on a ledge of the chimney; and you slide a few into your pocket, and munch them quietly,—giving now and then one to Nelly, and begging her to keep silent;—for you have a great fear of its being forbidden fruit.

Old family garrets have their stock, as I said, of cast-away clothes, of twenty years gone by; and it is rare sport to put them on; buttoning in a pillow or two for the sake of good fulness; and then to trick out Nelly in some strange-shaped head-gear, and old-fashioned brocade petticoat caught up with pins; and in such guise, to steal cautiously down stairs, and creep slily into the sitting-room,—half afraid of a scolding, and very sure of good fun;—trying to look very sober, and yet almost ready to die with the laugh that you know you will make. And your mother tries to lock


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 this strange affair would have ended, if it had been left alone, is more than I can tell, but I suspect Luigi would have tired of his mistress, and have gone back quite easily and contentedly to his garret in Florence, there to put the last finish to his pastoral pieces and then to set them forth. For now he wrote verses no more, being his brain was burnt up and adust with hot passion, which could not find voice in the calmly measured and perfect sweetness of duly chosen words. But it fell out that a gentleman of the Court, near akin by blood to the Marquis of Mantua, who had formerly pressed Constance hard to no avail, and was now the lover of Agnes, by the intelligence this girl gave him, and his own wit, had come to understand how things were going between his mistress and Messer Luigi, and spied upon them constantly. In this gallant there was only one fault, and that a fixed habit of keeping old insults and bad turns in a warm, dry corner of his heart, whence every night and morning he brought forth these commodities, looked at them, and returned them again, till the time came to give them back to their rightful possessors. And since he had taken Constance's refusal of his love very grievously and had long cherished a sincere desire of crying quits with her, he began to see daylight, and to say, like the rest of the courtiers, that the poor scholar was after all an admirable sort of man; for through him he saw a door leading to the sweet desert of vengeance. And by dint of hiding in the trees by the most retired alleys, lurking behind arbours, and in the recesses of the castle stairs he

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 harshly at little Nelly for putting on her grandmother's best bonnet; but Nelly's laughing eyes forbid it utterly; and the mother spoils all her scolding with a perfect shower of kisses.

After this, you go marching, very stately, Into the nursery; and utterly amaze the old nurse; and make a deal of wonderment for the staring, half-frightened baby, who drops his rattle, and makes a bob at you, as if he would jump into your waistcoat pocket.

But you grow tired of this; you tire even of the swing, and of the pranks of Charlie; and you glide away into a corner, with an old, dog's-eared copy of Robinson Crusoe. And you grow heart and soul into the story, until you tremble for the poor fellow with his guns, behind the palisade; and are yourself half dead with fright, when you peep cautiously over the hill with your glass, and see the cannibals at their orgies around the fire.

Yet, after all, you think the old fellow must have had a capital time, with a whole island to himself; and you think you would like such a time yourself, if only Nelly, and Charlie, could be there with you. But this thought does not come till afterward; for the time, you are nothing but Crusoe; you are living in his cave with


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 Poll the parrot, and are looking out for your goats, and man Friday.

You dream what a nice thing it would be, for you to slip away some pleasant morning—not to York, as young Crusoe did, but to New York,—and take passage as a sailor; and how, if they knew you were going, there would be such a world of good-byes; and how, if they did not know it, there would be such a world of wonder!

And then the sailor's dress would be altogether such a jaunty affair; and it would be such rare sport to lie off upon the yards far aloft, as you have seen sailors in pictures, looking out upon the blue and tumbling sea. No thought now in your boyish dreams, of sleety storms, and cables stiffened with ice, and crashing spars, and great ice-bergs towering fearfully around you!

You would have better luck than even Crusoe; you would save a compass, and a Bible, and stores of hatchets, and the captain's dog, and great puncheons of sweetmeats (which Crusoe altogether overlooked); and you would save a tent or two, which you could set up on the shore, and an American flag, and a small piece of cannon, which you could fire as often as you liked. At night, you would sleep in a tree—though you wonder how Crusoe did


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 it,—and would say the prayers you had been taught to say at home, and fall to sleep,—dreaming of Nelly and Charlie.

At sunrise, or thereabouts, you would come down, feeling very much refreshed; and make a very nice breakfast off of smoked herring and sea-bread, with a little currant jam, and a few oranges. After this you would haul ashore a chest or two of the sailor's clothes, and putting a few large jack-knives in your pocket, would take a stroll over the island, and dig a cave somewhere, and roll in a cask or two of sea-bread. And you fancy yourself growing after a time very tall and corpulent, and wearing a magnificent goat-skin cap, trimmed with green ribbons, and set off with a plume. You think you would have put a few more guns in the palisades than Crusoe did, and charged them with a little more grape.

After a long while, you fancy a ship would arrive, which would carry you back; and you count upon very great surprise on the part of your father, and little Nelly, as you march up to the door of the old family mansion, with plenty of gold in your pocket, and a small bag of cocoanuts for Charlie, and with a great deal of pleasant talk, about your island, far away in the South Seas.

Or, perhaps it is not Crusoe at all,


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 that your eyes and your heart cling to, but only some little story about Paul and Virginia;—that dear little Virginia! how many tears have been shed over her—not in garrets only, or by boys only!

You would have liked Virginia—you. know you would; but you perfectly hate the beldame aunt, who sent for her to come to France; you think she must have been like the old school-mistress, who occasionally boxes your ears with the cover of the spelling-book, or makes you wear one of the girl's bonnets, that smells strongly of pasteboard, and calico.

As for black Domingue, you think he was a capital old fellow; and you think more of him, and his bananas, than you do of the bursting, throbbing heart of poor Paul. As yet, Dream-life does not take hold on Jove. A little maturity of heart is wanted, to make up what the poets call sensibility. If love should come to be a dangerous, chivalric matter, as in the case of Helen Mar and Wallace, you can very easily conceive of it, and can take hold of all the little accessories of male costume, and embroidering of banners; but as for pure sentiment, such as lies in the sweet story of Bernardin de St. Pierre, it is quite beyond you.

The rich, soft nights, in which one might


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 doze in his hammock, watching the play of the silvery moonbeams upon the orange leaves, and upon the waves, you can understand; and you fall to dreaming of that lovely Isle of France; and wondering if Virginia did not perhaps have some relations on the island, who raise pine-apples, and such sort of things, still?

And so, with your head upon your hand, in your quiet garret corner, over some such beguiling story, your thought leans away from the book, into your own dreamy cruise over the sea of life.


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 was soon able to make out a very pretty process of arraignment, for he became a party to the plot, which before was only known to Luigi and Constance, and the marble satyrs, and the mighty warriors waving on the arras. Thus he felt himself in good company, and was observed by his friends to be in high spirits, for generally he had the repute of being somewhat gloomy and of sullen conversation. Indeed this gentleman enjoyed himself greatly in these days, and needed no fire of cold nights, for he warmed his heart with the view of a rare revenge, worthy of his ancestry and noble bearings, and well befitting an illustrious house. But he waited for some time that there might be no mistake or bungling in the matter, since he knew that a trifling miscalculation might cost him his head and leave Constance and her sweetheart to make merry at his expense above ground, while he would be taking his ease in Phlegethon below. And to make everything complete he entered into close acquaintance with Luigi, and by dint of flattery and his knowledge soon heard the whole tale from the scholar's own mouth, and applauded him mightily, only bidding him consider how various and unstable were all earthly concernments, especially those which appertained to the Lordship of Love. At last all was in train and the noble gentleman of Mantua had arranged in his mind the time, place and manner of his repaying to Constance this his just debt. You must understand then, that in the gardens of the castle of San Giuliano there was a great and admirable labyrinth or Siege of

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 Troy, contrived of laurels, cypresses, and box trees, with windings in and out, turnings, returnings, dæedaldædal [sic] wanderings and perplexed passages, almost beyond conceit or imagination. And in the courses of the maze were arbours here and there with seats for them to rest awhile, who took the pains to tread these windings; and many of these trees were cut into the fantastic similitude of towers and castle walls, strange monstrous beasts, and symbols of secret meaning. And at the entrance was a stone pillar, about four feet in height, and on the top was this legend:

Hic quem Creticus edit Daedalus est LuberinthusLaberinthus [sic],

De quo nullus vadere quivit qui fuit intus,

Ni Theseus gratis Ariadne stamine jutus.

And in the midst of the labyrinth was a very fair and pleasant bower of box, with the likenesses of peacocks, foxes, pheasants, and doves devised in the topiary manner, and a seat of marble very exquisitely carved. Now this place was often resorted to by Constance and the scholar, who were never weary of tracking out its windings in company, and had found out a secret concerning it; namely that one of the hedges was in fact double and had within itself a passage, which might only be entered by pressing down a bough at a certain place; and when they had gone in they perceived that none who passed by could spy them out since the green walls on either side were thick and impenetrable. And you may guess that they often came

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 course, there are barren spots of earth, but there is more than enough good country everywhere to care for the race.

We have had it drummed into us that famine and pestilence are visitations of Providence.

It's a blundering lie. They are visions of capitalism.

Capitalism is the devil that walketh about as a roaring lion seeking whom it may devour.

If you doubt this, I might quote some Scripture for you—passages that the average preachers are prone to overlook in their strenuous efforts to save souls. The Old Book is full of them—here are a few that will do:

You will find this in the X Psalm. It reads:

"The wicked in his pride persecuteth the poor. He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages; in the secret places doth he murder the innocent; his eyes are privily set against the poor. He lieth in wait secretly as a lion in his den; he lieth in wait to catch the poor; he doth catch the poor, when he draweth them into his net."

Yes—Capitalism sits in "lurking", in "secret" places, and concocts all the devilment that pesters the race.

That's the main occupation of your prominent republican and democratic politicians.

They "catch the poor" and they "draw them into their net."

No matter by whom and for whom The Los Angeles Times building was dynamited, the sensational confession on the eve of election was pulled off exactly on time to "catch the poor" and "draw them into their net."

One press report from Los Angeles reads:

"Every effort was made to connect Harriman (Socialist candidate for mayor) directly with the McNamara case. No point was left uncovered. The night before election a large squad of men were sent from house to house in


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 large districts, telling that Harriman had been arrested charged with complicity in bribing jurors in the McNamara case. * * * In opposition to the Socialists was a compact group, consisting of the preachers, the saloonkeepers, the proprietors of all the gambling houses and the houses of ill-fame. The churches were still farther aided by the women who infest all the hotels and apartment houses where the white slave traffic is openly acknowledged to exist. All of the corrupt element in the city banded together and fought desperately to keep the Socialists out.—(From Milwaukee Daily Leader.)

Capitalism, backed by "preachers, saloonkeepers and proprietors of houses of ill-fame," led like hell and charged Job Harriman, the latchets of whose shoes not a one of them is worthy to unloose, with being connected with a crime.

And the lie drew enough into the "net" to defeat Harriman.

The infamy of this elegant bunch of capitalist lick-spittles and their cowardly conspiracy to defeat Socialism ought to call for another wave of horror.

The outfit would crucify Christ again to-day rather than see a Socialist victory.

Capitalism is destroying over a million lives a year in these United States—murdering them outright, starving them and making physical and moral wrecks of men, women and children.

It is war, heartless war, from the first day of January till the last day of December, year after year.

Child slavery exists, because child labor can be gotten cheap.

The cradle is furnishing tender flesh and blood for your masters to grind into coin. No matter to them if