text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/56

 Which should be trodden by Persephone

When wearied of the flowerless fields of Dis!

Or danced on by the lads of Arcady!

The hidden secret of eternal bliss

Known to the Grecian here a man might find,

Ah! you and I may find it now if Love and Sleep be kind.

There are the flowers which mourning Herakles

Strewed on the tomb of Hylas, columbine,

Its white doves all a-flutter where the breeze

Kissed them too harshly, the small celandine,

That yellow-kirtled chorister of eve,

And lilac lady's-smock,—but let them bloom alone, and leave

Yon spirèd hollyhock red-crocketed

To sway its silent chimes, else must the bee,

Its little bellringer, go seek instead

Some other pleasaunce; the anemone

That weeps at daybreak, like a silly girl

Before her love, and hardly lets the butterflies unfurl

Their painted wings beside it,—bid it pine

In pale virginity; the winter snow

Will suit it better than those lips of thine

Whose fires would but scorch it, rather go 42

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/56


text:
Page:How and what to grow in a kitchen garden of one acre (IA howwhattogrowin00darl).pdf/91

 put in it should be covered with an inch of soil before the seed is sown.

The climbing snap beans may be planted in the hill with the tall-growing corn, or hills of pumpkins; squashes or cucumbers may be made in every fourth hill and every third row, although the vines will be very much in the way of continued cultivation if the ground is inclined to be weedy. Sweet corn should not be planted within one hundred yards of field or pop-corn, as the pollen will be sure to mix and spoil the quality of the table corn. It will sometimes mix at greater distances, but this distance would be safe in most cases.

—This is the earliest variety known, and is at the same time superior in size and quality to the varieties which have been grown as extra early, before its introduction. It ripens nearly a week in advance of any other variety, while the ears

are much larger than either the Minnesota or Marblehead. The grains are well formed to the tip of the cob, making a much handsomer car than the other early varieties, while in sweetness and quality it is also superior.

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


text:
Page:Isis very much unveiled - being the story of the great Mahatma hoax (IA b24884273).pdf/32

28

Avenue-road was at first inclined to resent this ukase.

But Mr. Judge soon put a new face on matters when he arrived. That was a time of sore searchings of heart. With “H.P.B.’s” death the society’s one link with its unseen guides was broken, and “Masters” had let a fortnight elapse without giving any sign that they survived the decease of their high-priestess. William Q. Judge was to change all that.

On the evening of May 23 (he lost no time after his arrival), Mr. Judge suggested to Mrs. Besant that as they were in sore need of some assurance from Masters, they should repeat an old recipe of Madame Blavatsky’s for bringing those august beings to a point. He proposed that they should write a certain question on paper, put it in an envelope, shut that into a certain cabinet in “H.P.B.’s” room at Avenue-road, and invite the Masters to “precipitate” replies.

Mrs. Besant agreed. Mr. Judge himself wrote the question and closed the envelope, and put it into the cabinet.

Mrs. Besant did not stay in the room through the process of incubation. For “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear,” the Theosophic scripture reads, “He that hath eyes to see, let him put his Head in a Bag.”

After due delay, Mr. Judge took the letter out again. On his showing it to Mrs. Besant, judge of that lady’s emotion at the discovery that at the end of the question stood the word

traced apparently in red chalk; also, a little lower down, the words

with the impression, in black carbon, of a peculiar seal, representing a cryptograph M. (A simple way to produce this appearance is to hold a seal in candle-smoke and impress with that.)


text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/57

 And pluck that amorous flower which blooms alone,

Fed by the pander wind with dust of kisses not its own.

The trumpet-mouths of red convolvulus

So dear to maidens, creamy meadow-sweet

Whiter than Juno's throat and odorous

As all Arabia, hyacinths the feet

Of Huntress Dian would be loth to mar

For any dappled fawn,—pluck these, and those fond flowers which are

Fairer than what Queen Venus trod upon

Beneath the pines of Ida, eucharis,

That morning star which does not dread the sun,

And budding marjoram which but to kiss

Would sweeten Cytheræa's lips and make

Adonis jealous,—these for thy head,—and for thy girdle take

Yon curving spray of purple clematis

Whose gorgeous dye outflames the Tyrian King,

And foxgloves with their nodding chalices,

But that one narciss which the startled Spring

Let from her kirtle fall when first she heard

In her own woods the wild tempestuous song of summer's bird, 43

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/57


text:
User talk:JrandWP

US copyright
Current US law gives 95 years of protection, as long as the copyright was renewed. If you have evidence that the law was changed to provide 100 years of protection, the WS:Scriptorium is the place to post that evidence. --EncycloPetey (talk) 03:45, 4 January 2024 (UTC)

 * About sound recordings only. JrandWP (talk) 03:49, 4 January 2024 (UTC)
 * This is why the table states that sound recordings are different. Where you posted the change, it meant that it applied to all works.  The table is about the general situation, not just for audio recordings.  And we have very few audio recordings housed here. --EncycloPetey (talk) 04:14, 4 January 2024 (UTC)
 * Sorry, my wording is wrong (however my intention is correct). JrandWP (talk) 04:19, 4 January 2024 (UTC)
 * The table is already correct. It states the copyright range for the vast majority of works, and points out the the copyright of music recordings is different from other kinds of published works. --EncycloPetey (talk) 04:35, 4 January 2024 (UTC)

title: User talk:JrandWP


text:
Page:Isis very much unveiled - being the story of the great Mahatma hoax (IA b24884273).pdf/33

Rh What need of further witness that the thing was the result of psychic “precipitation” from Madame Blavatsky’s “Mahatma M,” away in Tibet? If that gentleman had not, in his communications to Madame, been observed to use a seal, still he certainly used to scribble them in the same sort of red chalk, and he certainly used to sign himself similarly M.

Note one point here. It was not Mahatma M, but Mahatma K. H., who used to be the more prolix correspondent in Madame Blavatsky’s time, and whose handwriting appeared accordingly in copious specimens and comparisons with her own, in the published Report of the Psychical Research Committee.

No specimens were there given of the writing which Madame called Mahatma M’s: there were but a few scraps of it available.

When, therefore, Mr. William Q. Judge conjured a letter from him (I use “conjure” in its old-fashioned sense, of course), it was not possible for Mrs. Besant to compare it with any published specimens of the same script (with private specimens I fancy she had never been favoured), even if the extremely scanty and hurried nature of the message, and the temper of Mrs. Besant’s mind had not in themselves forbidden any such partial measure of verification.

It is true that a few months later Mrs. Besant felt able to affirm with the utmost confidence (as we have seen) that the handwriting was “the same as that which Madame Blavatsky was accused of producing,” and this at first sight appears to refer to the “K.H.” script, which afforded the gravamen of Mr. Hodgson’s Report. In that case what Mrs. Besant asserted was that the writing was the same as that which was not even supposed to be by the same person.

Next morning, there was a meeting of the “Inner Group,” at which Mr. William Q. Judge at once took up that position of Senior Chela to which his services as postman of the Mahatmas so well entitled him. There is some oath or other of equality with


text:
Author:Peter Arshinov

Works

 * History of the Makhnovist Movement (1923, translated in 1974)

title: Author:Peter Arshinov


text:
Page:Isis very much unveiled - being the story of the great Mahatma hoax (IA b24884273).pdf/34

30 and of obedience to its head which members of this Esoteric Section have to take: Mr. Judge pointed out that it was quite unnecessary for him to take this oath.

To which end he produced not only a letter from Madame Blavatsky, but one from Mahatma M, which he had personally received in America, he said. Its contents he did not feel able to communicate to others who could not yet aspire to be on corresponding terms with the Great Unseen: what he did show was the signature and seal impression (which exactly resembled that “precipitated” in the cabinet overnight). He specially begged those present to take note of the seal; “for,” said Mr. Judge, “they might have need to recognise it on some future occasion.”

With eager eyes they all obeyed; each aspiring young chela fluttered with the hope (for Mrs. Besant had noised the cabinet business about, and it seemed to rain missives) that he too might soon be blest with one.

Mr. Judge is a man of some foresight. But that was not precisely what he had in his mind when he bade them note the seal.

Three days after this (May 27) there was a meeting of the Esoteric Section Council, to decide how the section should in future be governed, its head being gone.

It had been expected that Mrs. Besant, having assumed the rôle of Teacher and Expounder in succession to her friend, would succeed her also as official head of the Esoteric Section Council. But William Q. Judge had drafted a plan under which the Council was to dissolve, and its powers be delegated to Mrs. Besant and himself as joint “Outer Heads”—the Inner Heads being, of course, Mr. Judge’s august correspondents in the Himalayas.

Mrs. Besant, it seems, was more than content, in view of Mr. Judge’s newly-developed occult powers, with a position of “high collateral glory.” But it was hardly to be expected that the scheme should not be exposed to some discussion and criticism from other


text:
Page:Isis very much unveiled - being the story of the great Mahatma hoax (IA b24884273).pdf/35

Rh members of the Council. At any rate, the Mahatma evidently deemed the occasion to be a dignas vindice nodus. For what happened?

As Mrs. Besant, who took the chair and expounded the new scheme, was turning over her papers on the table, there fluttered out a little slip of paper, at which she just glanced, and was about to put it by, when William Q. Judge pointedly asked her what it was?

The slip of paper bore the words in red pencil—

Signature and seal as before.

Round it went from hand to hand. None questioned that paper and script alike had just been “precipitated” into their midst by “the Master.” Thanks to Mr. Judge’s foresight, as we have just seen, all were in a position to recognise the seal.

Under these circumstances discussion was obviously out of place. William Q. Judge at once went and took his seat at Mrs. Besant’s side, and “Judge’s plan” was unanimously adopted!

It will hardly be believed, but it is, nevertheless, a fact, which I challenge Mrs. Besant to contradict, that when that lady, on a public platform, pledged the evidence of her senses, her sanity, and her reasoning faculties, &c., &c., to having received messages from the Mahatmas—messages which, as she assured the subsequent interviewer, came “not through the post” but by “precipitation” “in away which some people would call miraculous”—these two documents, produced as has been described, and only these, were all the pièces justificatives that she had to go upon.

But the vice-president’s Mahatma had only made a beginning. There was more, much more, to come. It will be my privilege to present the reader, in succeeding Chapters, with fac-similes of several of his more interesting compositions.


text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/58

POEMS Ah! leave it for a subtle memory

Of those sweet tremulous days of rain and sun,

When April laughed between her tears to see

The early primrose with shy footsteps run

From the gnarled oak-tree roots till all the wold,

Spite of its brown and trampled leaves, grew bright with shimmering gold.

Nay, pluck it too, it is not half so sweet

As thou thyself, my soul's idolatry!

And when thou art a-wearied at thy feet

Shall oxlips weave their brightest tapestry,

For thee the woodbine shall forget its pride

And veil its tangled whorls, and thou shalt walk on daisies pied.

And I will cut a reed by yonder spring

And make the wood-gods jealous, and old Pan

Wonder what young intruder dares to sing

In these still haunts, where never foot of man

Should tread at evening, lest he chance to spy

The marble limbs of Artemis and all her company.

And I will tell thee why the jacinth wears

Such dread embroidery of dolorous moan,

And why the hapless nightingale forbears

To sing her song at noon, but weeps alone 44

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/58


text:
Page:The Antigone of Sophocles (1911).djvu/32

28

Speak thus, and hated wilt thou be by me,

And hated justly too by him that ’s gone.

Leave me and this unwisdom that is mine

To suffer this thou fear’st. To suffer? Naught

There is that I shall suffer in this world

That equals suffering an ignoble death;

And nothing shall I suffer by this act

That will deprive me of a glorious death.

Go, if thou wilt; in folly truly, though,

Yet truly dear to dear ones dost thou go.

O beam of sun, the fairest

That ever dawned on Thebes,

And ray of light the rarest

That ever shone on all

Within the Seven Gates!

Day’s open eye and golden gleam,

Thou ’rt come at last o’er Dirce’s stream,

And from our casamates

In mad career to headlong flight

The warriors that in bucklers white

From Argos sallied forth with bristling spears

Thou hast repulsed and freed us from our fears.

Against our land the savage warrior came,

In Polyneices’ quarrel, by his claim

To the throne aroused;

For the cause he espoused

A shrill-screaming eagle in flight,

With an army strong,

Crest and helmets along,

He sped to our land on a pinion of white.


text:
Page:How and what to grow in a kitchen garden of one acre (IA howwhattogrowin00darl).pdf/92

 —This is a medium early variety; it is a strong, vigorous grower, reaching six to seven feet in height; the ears are about ten inches in length and the quality is rich and sugary. When used on the table the grains are milky white; the “Amber” of its name coming from the ripe seed, while the “Cream” is evidently an attempt to describe its excellent quality. In planting and picking for the table, the size of the cars of this variety and of Stowell’s Evergreen should be taken into account; a dozen ears being nearly equal to two dozen of some of the smaller-eared kinds.

does not grow quite so tall as the Amber Cream, nor are the ears as large; although called “twelve-rowed,” it frequently has only ten rows. The great merit of this kind is in its excellent quality, it being very sweet and juicy, and fully equal to any variety that I have ever eaten. It is one of the best sorts to plant after the very early kinds.

—An excellent medium early variety; the ears are of good size, with twelve rows of deep grains. It is remarkably sweet and juicy, and quite productive, averaging two good cars to a stalk.

—This is, in my opinion, the finest variety for late and general planting. It is strong-growing and prolific, while the ears are of large size and handsome appearance. The quality is rich and sweet, while the grains are juicy and luscious, when picked at the right stage. To have the finest corn of any variety it should be picked in


text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/59

 When the fleet swallow sleeps, and rich men feast,

And why the laurel trembles when she sees the lightening east.

And I will sing how sad Proserpina

Unto a grave and gloomy Lord was wed,

And lure the silver-breasted Helena

Back from the lotus meadows of the dead,

So shalt thou see that awful loveliness

For which two mighty Hosts met fearfully in war's abyss!

And then I 'll pipe to thee that Grecian tale

How Cynthia loves the lad Endymion,

And hidden in a grey and misty veil

Hies to the cliffs of Latmos once the Sun

Leaps from his ocean bed in fruitless chase

Of those pale flying feet which fade away in his embrace.

And if my flute can breathe sweet melody

We may behold Her face who long ago

Dwelt among men by the Ægean sea,

And whose sad house with pillaged portico

And friezeless wall and columns toppled down

Looms o'er the ruins of that fair and violet-cinctured town. 45

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/59


text:
Page:The Antigone of Sophocles (1911).djvu/33

SOPHOCLES.

And o’er our dwellings hovered

Around the Seven Ports,

With outspread wings he covered,

Athirst for blood, our town

And girdling battlements.

But hungry back he flew before

He had glutted his maw with gore

Or the beetling crown-defence

Of towers had been seized with pine-fed fame.

Lo! loud the clang of battle came

Behind him, routed by the dragon foe

Which wrestled and was found tog hard to throw.

For Zeus abominates the loud-mouthed vaunt,

And when he saw those warriors come and flaunt,

With arrogant pride,

Clanking gold beside,

Their spears in the face of their foes,

With the thunderbolt

To the earth he smote

From the rampart their chief as he rose.

Hurled back came crashing down upon the ground

That warrior rushing on with furious bound,

Who now but late

Was breathing hate

With the flaming torch in hand;

But naught availed those frenzied threats,

For mighty Ares helped and in Ruin’s nets

Caught the chiefs of that Argive band.

For seven captains stationed at the gates

With seven matched, save two of cruel fates,

Left the tribute of arms

To the God who alarms


text:
Page:Hotel Proprietors Act 1956 (UKPGA Eliz2-4-5-62 qp).pdf/1

 4 & 5 2 CHAPTER 62 An Act to amend the law relating to inns and innkeepers.

E it enacted by the Queen’s most Excellent Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, as follows:—

1.—(1) An hotel within the meaning of this Act shall, and any other establishment shall not, be deemed to be an inn; and the duties, liabilities and rights which immediately before the commencement of this Act by law attached to an innkeeper as such shall, subject to the provisions of this Act, attach to the proprietor of such an hotel and shall not attach to any other person.

(2) The proprietor of an hotel shall, as an innkeeper, be under the like liability, if any, to make good to any guest of his any damage to property brought to the hotel as he would be under to make good the loss thereof.

(3) In this Act, the expression “hotel” means an establishment held out by the proprietor as offering food, drink and, if so required, sleeping accommodation, without special contract, to any traveller presenting himself who appears able and willing to pay a reasonable sum for the services and facilities provided and who is in a fit state to be received.

2.—(1) Without prejudice to any other liability incurred by him with respect to any property brought to the hotel, the proprietor of an hotel shall not be liable as an innkeeper to make good to any traveller any loss of or damage to such property except where—
 * (a) at the time of the loss or damage sleeping accommodation at the hotel had been engaged for the traveller; and

1


text:
Page:The Antigone of Sophocles (1911).djvu/34

30

To the rout,—but the twain, who were born

Of one sire, of one mother,

Drave their spears in each other,

At one stroke of the sovereignty shorn.

Since Victory hath come, the glorious,

With joy responsive, O Thebes victorious,

Now all the toil

And all the moil

Of the recent wars forget;

Now visit all the sacred shrines with song

And dance, and Bacchus leading, all night long

The measures in motion set.

Chorus Leader.

But look where cometh the king of the land,

The son of Menœcus, Creon, whose hand

Holds the sceptre of empire but recently given

To him by the changes and fortunes of heaven.

What counsel in mind is he now revolving?

What problem for us to help him in solving,

That to this convocation

He by a proclamation

Hath summoned this council of elders?

Creon enters through the central door of the palace, with two attendants.

Sirs, safely have the gods our ship of state,

That labored hard in troubled seas, again

Made steady: and by special summons you

Of all the people chosen I have called

Apart; for, first, I knew how you revered

With constant loyalty the royal power

Of Laius; and then, when Œdipus

Our vessel steered, and after his downfall

Still faithful to the children, staunch in heart.

Since now yon sons of his are slain, struck down

In mutual slaughter by a double doom,

Each brother’s hand stained by a brother’s blood,


text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/60

 Spirit of Beauty! tarry still awhile,

They are not dead, thine ancient votaries,

Some few there are to whom thy radiant smile

Is better than a thousand victories,

Though all the nobly slain of Waterloo

Rise up in wrath against them! tarry still, there are a few

Who for thy sake would give their manlihood

And consecrate their being, I at least

Have done so, made thy lips my daily food,

And in thy temples found a goodlier feast

Than this starved age can give me, spite of all

Its new-found creeds so sceptical and so dogmatical.

Here not Cephissos, not Ilissos flows,

The woods of white Colonos are not here,

On our bleak hills the olive never blows,

No simple priest conducts his lowing steer

Up the steep marble way, nor through the town

Do laughing maidens bear to thee the crocus-flowered gown.

Yet tarry! for the boy who loved thee best,

Whose very name should be a memory

To make thee linger, sleeps in silent rest

Beneath the Roman walls, and melody 46

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/60


text:
Page:How and what to grow in a kitchen garden of one acre (IA howwhattogrowin00darl).pdf/95

 —The earliest variety grown, and is of very good quality for table use, but only grows about three inches in length; it is very solid and has but few seeds. Its small size and earliness render it a very good variety for pickles.

—This is largely grown for pickling, and is immensely productive. The shape, quality and great bearing make it a very valuable kind.

—This variety is more generally grown than any other, and is deservedly popular for both table use and for pickling. It is of medium length, and from 1½ to 2 inches in diameter; when not too old the flesh is very crisp and fine flavored.

—Grows from twelve to sixteen inches in length, is a very dark green in color, and presents a fine appearance, while the flesh is firm and crisp, and the quality excellent.

—This wonderful new variety differs in almost every respect from the cucumber as generally grown, and in size and quality far surpasses the ordinary kinds. The vines are very vigorous in growth, with dark green, luxuriant foliage, which enables it to bear large crops of cucumbers of extraordinary size, as they are nearly three inches in diameter and are from 15 to 22 inches in length. The fruit is uniformly round, smooth and straight, the skin being of a pale green and entirely free from spines; when ripe the skin is a russet brown. The green cucumbers are fit to eat


text:
Page:Hotel Proprietors Act 1956 (UKPGA Eliz2-4-5-62 qp).pdf/2

 Rh

(2) Without prejudice to any other liability or right of his with respect thereto, the proprietor of an hotel shall not as an innkeeper be liable to make good to any guest of his any loss of or damage to, or have any lien on, any vehicle or any property left therein, or any horse or other live animal or its harness or other equipment.

(3) Where the proprietor of an hotel is liable as an innkeeper to make good the loss of or any damage to property brought to the hotel, his liability to any one guest shall not exceed fifty pounds in respect of any one article, or one hundred pounds in the aggregate, except where—
 * (a) the property was stolen, lost or damaged through the default, neglect or wilful act of the proprietor or some servant of his; or
 * (b) the property was deposited by or on behalf of the guest expressly for safe custody with the proprietor or some servant of his authorised, or appearing to be authorised, for the purpose, and, if so required by the proprietor or that servant, in a container fastened or sealed by the depositor; or
 * (c) at a time after the guest had arrived at the hotel, either the property in question was offered for deposit as aforesaid and the proprietor or his servant refused to receive it, or the guest or some other guest acting on his behalf wished so to offer the property in question but, through the default of the proprietor or a servant of his, was unable to do so:

Provided that the proprietor shall not be entitled to the protection of this subsection unless, at the time when the property in question was brought to the hotel, a copy of the notice set out in the Schedule to this Act printed in plain type was conspicuously displayed in a place where it could conveniently be read by his guests at or near the reception office or desk or, where there is no reception office or desk, at or near the main entrance to the hotel.

3.—(1) This Act may be cited as the Hotel Proprietors Act, 1956.

(2) The Innkeepers’ Liability Act, 1863, is hereby repealed.

(3) This Act shall not extend to Northern Ireland.

(4) This Act shall come into operation on the first day of January, nineteen hundred and fifty-seven.

2


text:
Page:Hotel Proprietors Act 1956 (UKPGA Eliz2-4-5-62 qp).pdf/3

 4 & 5 2

SCHEDULE NOTICE Under the Hotel Proprietors Act, 1956, an hotel proprietor may in certain circumstances be liable to make good any loss of or damage to a guest’s property even though it was not due to any fault of the proprietor or staff of the hotel.

This liability however—
 * (a) extends only to the property of guests who have engaged sleeping accommodation at the hotel;
 * (b) is limited to £50 for any one article and a total of £100 in the case of any one guest, except in the case of property which has been deposited, or offered for deposit, for safe custody;
 * (c) does not cover motor-cars or other vehicles of any kind or any property left in them, or horses or other live animals.

This notice does not constitute an admission either that the Act applies to this hotel or that liability thereunder attaches to the proprietor of this hotel in any particular case.


text:
Page:Hotel Proprietors Act 1956 (UKPGA Eliz2-4-5-62 qp).pdf/4

 Rh


text:
Page:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf/5

1901. 21. In any Act, unless the contrary intention appears—

 * (a) references to any officer or office shall be construed as references to such officer or office in and for the Commonwealth;

 * (b) references to localities jurisdictions and other matters and things shall be construed as references to such localities jurisdictions and other matters and things in and of the Commonwealth.

22. In any Act, unless the contrary intention appears—

 * (a) "Person" and "party" shall include a body politic or as corporate as well as an individual;

 * (b) "Month" shall mean calendar month;

 * (c) "Land" shall include messuages tenements and hereditaments, corporeal and description, and whatever may be the estate or interest therein:

 * (d) "Estate" shall include any estate or interest charge right title claim demand lien or incumbrance at law or in equity:

 * (e) "Financial year" shall mean, as respects any matters relating to the Consolidated Revenue Fund or moneys provided by the Parliament or to public taxes or finance, the twelve months ending the thirtieth day of June.

23. In any Act, unless the contrary intention appears—

 * (a) Words importing the masculine gender shall include females; and

 * (b) Words in the singular shall include the plural, and words in the plural shall include the singular.

24. Every provision of an Act relating to offences punishable on indictment or summary conviction shall unless the contrary intention appears be deemed to refer to bodies corporate as well as to persons.

Where under any Act any forfeiture or penalty is payable to a party aggrieved it shall be payable to a body corporate where the body corporate is the party aggrieved.

25. In any Act expressions referring to writing shall, unless the contrary intention appears, be construed as including references to any mode of representing or reproducing words in a visible form.

26. In any Act, unless the contrary intention appears—

 * (a) "The High Court" shall mean the High Court of Australia;

 * (b) "Federal Court" shall mean the High Court or any court created by the Parliament:

 * (c) "Court exercising federal jurisdiction" shall mean any court when exercising federal jurisdiction and shall include federal courts;

title: Page:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf/5


text:
Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/61

 Still mourns her sweetest lyre, none can play

The lute of Adonais, with his lips Song passed away.

Nay, when Keats died the Muses still had left

One silver voice to sing his threnody,

But ah! too soon of it we were bereft

When on that riven night and stormy sea

Panthea claimed her singer as her own,

And slew the mouth that praised her; since which time we walk alone,

Save for that fiery heart, that morning star

Of re-arisen England, whose clear eye

Saw from our tottering throne and waste of war

The grand Greek limbs of young Democracy

Rise mightily like Hesperus and bring

The great Republic! him at least thy love hath taught to sing,

And he hath been with thee at Thessaly,

And seen white Atalanta fleet of foot

In passionless and fierce virginity

Hunting the tuskèd boar, his honied lute

Hath pierced the cavern of the hollow hill,

And Venus laughs to know one knee will bow before her still. 47

title: Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/61


text:
Page:How and what to grow in a kitchen garden of one acre (IA howwhattogrowin00darl).pdf/96

 at any stage of their growth. The flesh is entirely white, not tinged with green, as in the ordinary kinds,


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 and is crisp, tender and brittle. It has none of the cucumber taste of the older kinds, and is not always relished at first by those who are fond of the strong-flavored varieties, but after becoming accustomed to it for a short time, it is preferred to all others. In its native home it forms one of the staple foods of the inhabitants, being eaten in the natural state without any dressing whatever, in the same manner that we would cat an apple or a pear. It is certainly one of the most remarkable vegetables of recent introduction. Since the advent of the potato bug in our Eastern States the labor of raising this fine fruit is almost trebled, the bug regarding it as a delicacy superior even to the potato vines, and from its manner of bearing the fruit it is dangerous to apply Paris green or other poisons for their destruction. Where there is time to attend to it I prefer to have the bugs picked off by hand every day, but this is slow work, as we frequently get as many as a pint from two dozen of plants, and they do considerable damage by eating the young shoots and buds, even between such frequent pickings. The best way is to dust with Paris green or other poison, until the plants are of sufficient size to bear fruit, and then to keep the bugs off as thoroughly as possible by hand picking. In preference to Paris green or other strong poisons, I use Hammond’s Slug Shot, an insecticide that is sold in all seed and implement stores, and which is said not to be injurious to man or beast, though poison is


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Talk:The War of the Jews/Book II

The translation says something about corn. They didn't have corn back then.
Corn wasn't introduced to places outside of the Americas until, like, over 1,000 years after this. I doubt neighboring villages got raided for their corn. Try again. 73.189.153.151 04:30, 4 January 2024 (UTC)
 * In UK books and in older books, corn means grain, not maize. The English language is used differently in various parts of the world. --EncycloPetey (talk) 04:33, 4 January 2024 (UTC)

title: Talk:The War of the Jews/Book II


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 present in the impalpable powder; it is also claimed that it is an excellent fertilizer, as well as being sure death to insects. Having used it three seasons, I have found it very satisfactory for the preservation of all small plants, excepting in one case of young seedlings just coming through the soil, in which case a too heavy application burned them up.

The egg plant is a strong, rank grower and a great lover of rich soil and of heat. The seed should be started in a warm hotbed or greenhouse about the last of March, and the soil should be as rich and light as possible. If the plants grow rapidly, they will be improved by transplanting in the hotbeds, as it will help them to form a good bunch of fibrous roots, so that they will sustain no check when planted out. They should not be set out in the garden until warm weather is assured, and then should be planted in hills enriched as for melons. These hills need not be higher than the surface of the garden, but if strong growth and large fruits are desired, a hole should be scraped out where each plant is to stand, and two or three shovelsful of well-rotted manure or compost put in, and the soil leveled off again before the plant is set. If the ground is dry when the plants are set out, water should be poured in the holes dug to receive them, and the dry soil drawn up around the stems when the plant has been set. The roots of the freshly set plants should not come in contact with the manure, but should have two or three inches of soil through which to seek it as they become established. The fruit should be cut as soon as it is of sufficient size and before the seeds


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 furnish an ample supply for a large family. The small early variety matures three or even four weeks before the ordinary kinds, but as they are hardly larger than a good-sized goose egg, it is not worth while to bother with them unless you are especially fond of the fruit and wish to have it as early as possible.

—This variety is in every respect similar to the New York Purple, excepting in size and time of ripening; the fully developed fruit being about two inches in length and being ready for use a few weeks after planting out in the garden.

—This is the best and most popular variety. It is of large size, very handsome color and appearance, and the largest in diameter of any variety, yielding large slices for frying. The quality is of the finest. This pungent root is a great favorite as a relish in the early spring, and is credited with tonic properties; at any rate it is a very pleasant appetizer at a season when we have been almost without fresh vegetables for several months. It can be raised in almost any soil, though preferring a moist situation, and is most at home where it is constantly moistened or occasionally overflowed by some stream. It is raised from pieces of root, three or four inches in length and from ¼ to ½ inch in diameter. These slips


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SOPHOCLES. The throne and all its powers now fall to me,

As nearest living relative to them.

’T is not in human power to gauge the heart

And soul and mind of any man, before

He show himself in law and government

And in authority is tested well.

For whosoever grasps the helm of state

And clings not to the best of counsel, fear

Engaoling ’tween his teeth and lips his tongue,

Doth seem to me, hath always seemed, most base;

But whoso cares for country less than friend

Lives not in my regard. For I,—let Zeus

Who always sees all things, my witness be—

Could never hold my peace, if I should see

Misfortune coming to my people, woe

Instead of safety; nor could make that man

My friend, who is my country’s foe; for she

It is that bears us safe, and only while

She sails an even keel can we gain friends.

Such are the precepts guiding me to make

This city prosperous; and now in strict

Accord with these, an edict I have published

Touching the sons of Œdipus: the one,

Eteocles, who lost his life for Thebes

In gallant fight and winning high renown,

Shall be enshrined in earth with every rite

That comes to heroes in the world below

And crowned with all the honors due the dead:

Whereas his brother Polyneices, who

Returned, though banished, and essayed to burn

With fire and sack the city. of his sires,

And wreck the temples of his father’s gods,

Essayed to satiate his thirst with blood

Of kindred, and to put upon the rest

The yoke of slavery,—for him no dirge,

No rite, his carcass shall be left for dogs

And vultures foul to feed upon and make

A ghastly sight for human eyes to see.—

This is my royal will and high command.

For never while I rule shall wicked men

Exceed the just in honor, but whoso


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 are made from the tails or rootlets cut off in trimming the roots for grating, they should be cut off square at the top and sloping at the bottom, that you may readily know which end goes up when you plant them. The slips should be kept in a box of moist earth, in a cool cellar, after they have been trimmed, until planting time. The slips can be planted with a long trowel; but the best and quickest way is to drive a spade, full depth, into the soil, flatways with the garden line, move it slightly back and forward, to widen the hole, and slip a piece of root down each side of the cut made by the spade, which will make them six or seven inches apart; the spade should then be driven in about one inch back of its previous position and the handle pressed forward, which will pack the dirt solidly against the planted roots, the tops of which should be placed about one inch under the surface. Where it is desired to increase the supply as fast as possible, and where the roots have been used at home, the crowns or tops, with an inch or so of root adhering, can be planted again, but they will not make long, smooth roots, like the slips, but will have a tendency to make several small roots. At the end of one of the berry rows, or in some corner where they will be out of the way of the plow, there should be a few poles of hops. These are grown from pieces of root, and after being once planted will not need further attention except to be kept clear of weeds and grass, to be supplied with a good top-


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ING MARK made peace with Tristan. Tristan returned to the castle as of old. Tristan slept in the King's chamber with his peers. He could come or go, the King thought no more of it.

Mark had pardoned the felons, and as the seneschal, Dinas of Lidan, found the dwarf wandering in a forest abandoned, he brought him home, and the King had pity and pardoned even him.

But his goodness did but feed the ire of the barons, who swore this oath: If the King kept Tristan in the land they would withdraw to their strongholds as for war, and they called the King to parley.

"Lord," said they, "Drive you


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 Tristan forth. He loves the Queen as all who choose can see, but as for us we will bear it no longer."

And the King sighed, looking down in silence.

"King," they went on, "we will not bear it, for we know now that this is known to you and that yet you will not move. Parley you, and take counsel. As for us if you will not exile this man, your nephew, and drive him forth out of your land forever, we will withdraw within our Bailiwicks and take our neighbours also from your court: for we cannot endure his presence longer in this place. Such is your balance: choose."

"My lords," said he, "once I hearkened to the evil words you spoke of Tristan, yet was I wrong in the end. But you are my lieges and I would not lose the service of my men. Counsel me therefore, I charge you, you that owe me counsel.


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 You know me for a man neither proud nor overstepping."

"Lord," said they, "call then Frocin hither. You mistrust him for that orchard night. Still, was it not he that read in the stars of the Queen's coming there and to the very pine-tree too? He is very wise, take counsel of him."

And he came, did that hunchback of Hell: the felons greeted him and he planned this evil.

"Sire," said he, "let your nephew ride hard to-morrow at dawn with a brief drawn up on parchment and well sealed with a seal: bid him ride to King Arthur at Carduel. Sire, he sleeps with the peers in your chamber; go you out when the first sleep falls on men, and if he love Iseult so madly, why, then I swear by God and by the laws of Rome, he will try to speak with her before he rides. But if he do so unknown to you or to me, then slay me. As for the trap, let


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32 Doth bear good will to Thebes, in life and death

Alike from me high honor shall receive.

Such is thy pleasure, son of Menoeceus,

Towards Thebes’s enemy and toward her friend.

Full jurisdiction hast thou o’er the dead,

And over all us Thebans who still live.

See to it then that no one breaks this law.

Impose this task upon some younger men.

To watch the corpse? Already they are there.

What further mandate, then, hast thou to give?

Range not yourselves with those who disobey.

No man ’s so foolish that he yearns to die.

Death is the wages, of a truth. Yet hope

Of gain hath oft brought men to doom.

My lord, I will not say that I have plied

A nimble foot and come all out of breath,

So fleet was I; for often did I halt

In anxious thought, and wheel about to take

The back road in my coming; for I heard

A voice within me saying many things:

Fool! Do n’t you know you ’ll catch it, if you go?

You wretch! Stopping again? If Creon learns

This from another, do n’t you know you ’ll smart?”

Debating “yea” and “nay” I came with slow

Reluctant steps, and though the road was short,

It turned out long. The “yea,” at last,

However, won the day—to come to thee;

It may be nothing, what I have to tell;

Yet I will tell it; for I have a grip

On this one faith: whatever will be, will be,

I ’ll suffer naught save what ’s foredoomed for me.

Well, then, what is ’t that troubles you so sore?

I ’ll tell my own case first, my whole connection

With the affair—I did not do the deed,


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 me lay it, but do you say nothing of his ride to him until the time for sleep."

And when King Mark had agreed, this dwarf did a vile thing. He bought of a baker four farthings' worth of flour, and hid it in the turn of his coat. That night, when the King had supped and the men-at-arms lay down to sleep in hall, Tristan came to the King as custom was, and the King said:

"Fair nephew, do my will: ride to-morrow night to King Arthur at Carduel, and give him this brief, with my greeting, that he may open it: and stay you with him but one day."

And when Tristan said: "I will take it on the morrow;"

The King added: "Aye, and before day dawn."

But, as the peers slept all round the King their lord, that night, a mad thought took Tristan that, before he rode, he knew not for how long, before dawn he


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 be the object in sowing lettuce to plant small lots frequently, that it may always be had in the best condition.

About the second week in September a sowing of some early hard-heading variety should be made, and a succeeding one about the first of October; from these two sowings the cold frames should be planted, about one-third from the first and two-thirds from the second; the plants should be set about six inches apart each way, which will allow about fifty plants to each sash. When cold weather comes the sash should be put on, and the outsides of the frames banked around with long stable manure. The plants must be treated to plenty of fresh air whenever the weather will permit of it, and on very cold nights the sash should be reinforced with a covering of straw, old mats, or carpet. The lettuce grown in these frames is apt to be infested with the small insect known as the “Green Fly;” to prevent or to get rid of the presence of this pest, tobacco refuse and sweepings from a cigar-maker’s shop should be strewn on the soil under the leaves; this will destroy the fly and act as a fertilizer, but if too much is applied it will spoil the delicate flavor of the lettuce.

If a few very early cabbages are desired, the seed should be sown about the first of October and transplanted with the lettuce into the cold frames; planting them about two inches apart each way; if these are in good condition and the spring favorable, they can be planted out about the 15th of March, and will produce heads one to two weeks earlier than those raised in the hotbeds.


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 would say a last word to the Queen. And there was a spear length in the darkness between them. Now the dwarf slept with the rest in the King's chamber, and when he thought that all slept he rose and scattered the flour silently in the spear length that lay between Tristan and the Queen; but Tristan watched and saw him, and said to himself:

"It is to mark my footsteps, but there shall be no marks to show."

At midnight, when all was dark in the room, no candle nor any lamp glimmering, the King went out silently by the door and with him the dwarf. Then Tristan rose in the darkness and judged the spear length and leapt the space between, for his farewell. But that day in the hunt a boar had wounded him in the leg, and in this effort the wound bled. He did not feel it or see it in the darkness, but the blood dripped upon the couches and the flour


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SOPHOCLES. Nor did I see who did, and it would be

Unfair for harm to come to me for this.

Your aim is shrewdly good to keep yourself

Out of harm’s reach! You must have startling news.

I have indeed—and hesitate to tell.

Out with it—stop this nonsense—and be off.

Well, here it is—the corpse—somebody ’s strewn

Dry dust—just now—upon the flesh, with rites

And offerings to the dead—and gone.

What ’s that? What man could dare to brave my will?

I know not; for there was no dint of pick,

No earth thrown up by mattock, but the ground

Was hard, unbroken, dry, untracked by wheels,—

Whoe’er the doer was, he left no trace.

And when the first day-watchman pointed out

The thing, dismay and wonder fell on all.

The corpse had disappeared from view, not shut

Within a pile of earth, but sprinkled light

With dust, as cast by one who feared a curse.

It had been quickly done, for neither dog

Nor beast of prey had had the time to come

And rend the body, since no track was there.

Recriminations followed thick and fast

And loud among us, guard accusing guard,

And from high words it might have come to blows,

With none to quell the strife,—for every man

Was guilty, though it could be proved on none.

Prepared we were to take up red-hot iron,

To walk through fire, and swear by all the gods

That we had neither done the deed, nor knew

What man had planned, or thus accomplished it,

And finally, when we had searched in vain,

One spake, who moved us all to bend our heads

To earth in fear; since we could not gainsay

His words, nor did we see how, if we failed

To heed his counsel, we could ‘scape mischance.


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 dressing of manure in the fall, and suitable poles to climb upon. These poles should be good strong ones, at least 8 to 10 feet in height. About the last of August or first of September the vines should be cut off near the ground and the poles pulled up, so that the crop may be gathered. There is an old saying that “the September winds should never be allowed to blow on the hops.” The hops should be spread on sheets and placed in some cool, airy garret or loft, to dry. It will take five or six good poles to make a bushel of hops. This is generally known as salad, which is a misnomer, as salad nicans anything that is served in a green state; it may be onions, tomatoes, cabbage, lettuce, or anything of that kind. By general usage the word salad has been appropriated to the lettuce, as the latter is the plant most frequently grown in this country for salad. But call it whichever you like, it is one of the greatest additions to our tables, and in our kitchen garden it should not be made a side issue of a week or two in the spring, but should be raised in the finest condition possible throughout the season, and by using the hotbeds and cold frames it is possible to have it the whole year round.

To raise head lettuce in perfection the greatest care must be taken to reserve the very best and tightest heads for seed, or if the seed is to be purchased select the hardest-heading varieties. For the earliest planting the seed should be sown in the hotbed and have the same treatment as its associate, the cabbage; the


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 strewn between; and outside in the moonlight the dwarf read the heavens and knew what had been done and he cried:

"Enter, my King, and if you do not hold them, hang me high."

Then the King and the dwarf and the four felons ran in with lights and noise, and though Tristan had regained his place there was the blood for witness, and though Iseult feigned sleep, and Perinis too, who lay at Tristan's feet, yet there was the blood for witness. And the King looked in silence at the blood where it lay upon the bed and the boards and trampled into the flour.

And the four barons held Tristan down upon his bed and mocked the Queen also, promising her full justice; and they bared and showed the wound whence the blood flowed.

Then the King said:

"Tristan, now nothing longer holds. To-morrow you shall die."


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 And Tristan answered:

"Have mercy, Lord, in the name of God that suffered the Cross!"

But the felons called on the King to take vengeance, saying:

"Do justice, King: take vengeance."

And Tristan went on, "Have mercy, not on me—for why should I stand at dying?—Truly, but for you, I would have sold my honour high to cowards who, under your peace, have put hands on my body—but in homage to you I have yielded and you may do with me what you will. But, lord, remember the Queen!"

And as he knelt at the King's feet he still complained:

"Remember the Queen; for if any man of your household make so bold as to maintain the lie that I loved her unlawfully, I will stand up armed to him in a ring. Sire, in the name of God the Lord, have mercy on her."


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 Then the barons bound him with ropes, and the Queen also. But had Tristan known that trial by combat was to be denied him, certainly he would not have suffered it.

For he trusted in God and knew no man dared draw sword against him in the lists. And truly he did well to trust in God, for though the felons mocked him when he said he had loved loyally, yet I call you to witness, my lords who read this, and who know of the philtre drunk upon the high seas, and who understand whether his love were disloyalty indeed. For men see this and that outward thing, but God alone the heart, and in the heart alone is crime and the sole final judge is God. Therefore did He lay down the law that a man accused might uphold his cause by battle, and God himself fights for the innocent in such a combat.

Therefore did Tristan claim justice and


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 the right of battle and therefore was he careful to fail in nothing of the homage he owed King Mark, his lord.

But had he known what was coming, he would have killed the felons.


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ARK was the night, and the news ran that Tristan and the Queen were held and that the King would kill them; and wealthy burgess, or common man, they wept and ran to the palace.

And the murmurs and the cries ran through the city, but such was the King's anger in his castle above that not the strongest nor the proudest baron dared move him.

Night ended and the day drew near. Mark, before dawn, rode out to the place where he held pleas and judgment. He ordered a ditch to be dug in the earth and knotty vine-shoots and thorns to be laid therein.

At the hour of Prime he had a ban


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 cried through his land to gather the men of Cornwall; they came with a great noise and the King spoke them thus:

"My lords, I have made here a faggot of thorns for Tristan and the Queen; for they have fallen."

But they cried all, with tears:

"A sentence, lord, a sentence; an indictment and pleas; for killing without trial is shame and crime."

But Mark answered in his anger:

"Neither respite, nor delay, nor pleas, nor sentence. By God that made the world, if any dare petition me, he shall burn first!"

He ordered the fire to be lit, and Tristan to be called.

The flames rose, and all were silent before the flames, and the King waited.

The servants ran to the room where watch was kept on the two lovers; and they dragged Tristan out by his hands


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 though he wept for his honour; but as they dragged him off in such a shame, the Queen still called to him:

"Friend, if I die that you may live, that will be great joy."

Now, hear how full of pity is God and how He heard the lament and the prayers of the common folk, that day.

For as Tristan and his guards went down from the town to where the faggot burned, near the road upon a rock was a chantry, it stood at a cliff's edge steep and sheer, and it turned to the sea-breeze; in the apse of it were windows glazed. Then Tristan said to those with him:

"My lords, let me enter this chantry, to pray for a moment the mercy of God whom I have offended; my death is near. There is but one door to the place, my lords, and each of you has his sword drawn. So, you may well see that, when


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 my prayer to God is done, I must come past you again: when I have prayed God, my lords, for the last time."

And one of the guards said: "Why, let him go in."

So they let him enter to pray. But he, once in, dashed through and leapt the altar rail and the altar too and forced a window of the apse, and leapt again over the cliff's edge. So might he die, but not of that shameful death before the people.

Now learn, my lords, how generous was God to him that day. The wind took Tristan's cloak and he fell upon a smooth rock at the cliff's foot, which to this day the men of Cornwall call "Tristan's leap."

His guards still waited for him at the chantry door, but vainly, for God was now his guard. And he ran, and the fine sand crunched under his feet, and far off he saw the faggot burning, and


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 the smoke and the crackling flames; and fled.

Sword girt and bridle loose, Gorvenal had fled the city, lest the King burn him in his master's place: and he found Tristan on the shore.

"Master," said Tristan, "God has saved me, but oh! master, to what end? For without Iseult I may not and I will not live, and I rather had died of my fall. They will burn her for me, then I too will die for her."

"Lord," said Gorvenal, "take no counsel of anger. See here this thicket with a ditch dug round about it. Let us hide therein where the track passes near, and comers by it will tell us news; and, boy, if they burn Iseult, I swear by God, the Son of Mary, never to sleep under a roof again until she be avenged."

There was a poor man of the common folk that had seen Tristan's fall, and had seen him stumble and rise after, and he


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 crept to Tintagel and to Iseult where she was bound, and said:

"Queen, weep no more. Your friend has fled safely."

"Then I thank God," said she, "and whether they bind or loose me, and whether they kill or spare me, I care but little now."

And though blood came at the cord-knots, so tightly had the traitors bound her, yet still she said, smiling:

"Did I weep for that when God has loosed my friend I should be little worth."

When the news came to the King that Tristan had leapt that leap and was lost he paled with anger, and bade his men bring forth Iseult.

They dragged her from the room, and she came before the crowd, held by her delicate hands, from which blood dropped, and the crowd called:

"Have pity on her—the loyal Queen


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 and honoured! Surely they that gave her up brought mourning on us all—our curses on them!"

But the King's men dragged her to the thorn faggot as it blazed. She stood up before the flame, and the crowd cried its anger, and cursed the traitors and the King. None could see her without pity, unless he had a felon's heart: she was so tightly bound. The tears ran down her face and fell upon her grey gown where ran a little thread of gold, and a thread of gold was twined into her hair.

Just then there had come up a hundred lepers of the King's, deformed and broken, white horribly, and limping on their crutches. And they drew near the flame, and being evil, loved the sight. And their chief Ivan, the ugliest of them all, cried to the King in a quavering voice:

"O King, you would burn this woman in that flame, and it is sound justice, but


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 too swift, for very soon the fire will fall, and her ashes will very soon be scattered by the high wind and her agony be done. Throw her rather to your lepers where she may drag out a life for ever asking death."

And the King answered:

"Yes; let her live that life, for it is better justice and more terrible. I can love those that gave me such a thought."

And the lepers answered:

"Throw her among us, and make her one of us. Never shall lady have known a worse end. And look," they said, "at our rags and our abominations. She has had pleasure in rich stuffs and furs, jewels and walls of marble, honour, good wines and joy, but when she sees your lepers always, King, and only them for ever, their couches and their huts, then indeed she will know the wrong she has done, and bitterly desire even that great flame of thorns."


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 And as the King heard them, he stood a long time without moving; then he ran to the Queen and seized her by the hand, and she cried:

"Burn me! rather burn me!"

But the King gave her up, and Ivan took her, and the hundred lepers pressed around, and to hear her cries all the crowd rose in pity. But Ivan had an evil gladness, and as he went he dragged her out of the borough bounds, with his hideous company.

Now they took that road where Tristan lay in hiding, and Gorvenal said to him:

"Son, here is your friend. Will you do naught?"

Then Tristan mounted the horse and spurred it out of the bush, and cried:

"Ivan, you have been at the Queen's side a moment, and too long. Now leave her if you would live."


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 But Ivan threw his cloak away and shouted:

"Your clubs, comrades, and your staves! Crutches in the air—for a fight is on!"

Then it was fine to see the lepers throwing their capes aside, and stirring their sick legs, and brandishing their crutches, some threatening: groaning all; but to strike them Tristan was too noble. There are singers who sing that Tristan killed Ivan, but it is a lie. Too much a knight was he to kill such things. Gorvenal indeed, snatching up an oak sapling, crashed it on Ivan's head till his blood ran down to his misshapen feet. Then Tristan took the Queen.

Henceforth near him she felt no further evil. He cut the cords that bound her arms so straightly, and he left the plain so that they plunged into the wood of Morois; and there in the


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 thick wood Tristan was as sure as in a castle keep.

And as the sun fell they halted all three at the foot of a little hill: fear had wearied the Queen, and she leant her head upon his body and slept.

But in the morning, Gorvenal stole from a woodman his bow and two good arrows plumed and barbed, and gave them to Tristan, the great archer, and he shot him a fawn and killed it. Then Gorvenal gathered dry twigs, struck flint, and lit a great fire to cook the venison. And Tristan cut him branches and made a hut and garnished it with leaves. And Iseult slept upon the thick leaves there.

So, in the depths of the wild wood began for the lovers that savage life which yet they loved very soon.


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 young plants should not be allowed to stand too thickly; they should be at least an inch apart in the seed bed, or be transplanted to that distance when half an inch high. When the cabbage is set out, one or two lettuce plants may be set between each pair of cabbages in the row, according to the distance the cabbages are apart. There must be space enough between the plants to give the soil a good stirring with the hoe around each plant, as thorough cultivation is essential to the best development of both cabbage and lettuce. A second lot of seed should be planted when the tomatoes and egg plants are sown; these can be set out in the garden as soon as they are large enough to handle. The third sowing should be made in the open garden when the first planting is done, and the young seedlings should be transplanted as soon as the plants

are large enough and before they begin to be crowded in the row, as this last sowing will not form heads without it receives the best of care. These three sowings are about all that can be depended upon to make hard heads, unless it can be planted in some rich, shady corner, and carefully nursed with the watering pot.

About the first or middle of May a sowing should 7


text:
Author:Samuel-Henri Berthoud

Works

 * "L’Archet du Sabbat" ('The Sabbath Bow')
 * "The Crossway of the Four Brothers" translated by Diabolus Typicus (1830)

title: Author:Samuel-Henri Berthoud


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 be made of the “Perpetual Lettuce,” and the plants, when large enough, should be transplanted and treated the same as the head lettuce; it will not form tight heads, but produces a fine bunch of broad, yellowish-green leaves, which are very crisp and delicate, not being strong and bitter, as most lettuces are in hot weather. This lettuce will stand from four to six weeks without running to seed, so that if plantings are made about once a month it can be had in perfection throughout the balance of the season. If the head lettuce is more particularly desired, a sowing should be made about the first of August, and another about the fifteenth; the young plants should be transplanted and treated in the same manner for heading as is followed in the spring; the first sowing will not produce heads unless the latter part of August and the first part of September be cool and moist; but you are almost sure to have fine heads from the second sowing. Personally, I prefer the Perpetual, both for its fine qualities and the ease of growing it.

Another way, and the easiest, to have a constant succession of lettuce for the table throughout the season, is to sow the seed thickly in drills and to cut the loose leaves close to the ground when it is three or four inches high; this produces rather narrow leaves, which are very tender and juicy, but which have not the substance of those grown as separate plants or heads, and are not so easily prepared for the table. These sowings can be made every few weeks, and a constant succession of young leaves be had for use throughout the entire season. It should


text:
Author:Robert Cartwright

Works

 * Shakspere and Jonson (1864)

title: Author:Robert Cartwright


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—This is the fastest growing and the best heading kind that I have ever grown. With this variety the ordinary gardener is able to grow as fine, large, solid heads as those grown by the professional market gardener. In shape it very much resembles a cabbage, as even the outer leaves tend to curl in over the head, instead of spreading outward, as in most lettuces. In appearance it is quite novel and striking, the edges of the leaves being tinged with a deep brownish-red, while in the centre of its hard heads the leaves are blanched to a beautiful creamy white. In quality it is гemarkably tender, rich, juicy, and never bitter

—This is the finest of all


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RV 134 (LONDON AT LEISURE) (Indeed an American hostess has put it on record that an English guest commented to her the other day, "But, we don't want to be entertained.") But, undoubtedly, conversation began to go out of fashion when the phrase: "He speaks like a book" was first used invidiously. It marked the bifurcation of the English language: the distinction between our spoken and our written tongue. For this the periodical press must be held responsible.

London was always press-ridden. In the days of Johnson—who invented the Magazine—the Newspapers would make a prodigious fuss; they could drive a lady so sensible as Mrs. Thrale-Piozzi almost to distraction, with comments upon her debated marriage, and supply the Town with Talk—as opposed to Conversation—about such a matter as that Piozzi marriage, for days, months and years on end. And earlier, even, Defoe, who was the first of the Journalists, made Town Talk out of solid facts, unsolid fiction, or practical projects. But books still monopolised the airy realms of philosophical speculations; preachers still retained the sole right to lecture upon divinity—and books and preachers entered intimately into the lives of men and women. People read "Clarissa" by the year, and debated, at dinner tables, as to the abstract proprieties of the case of Pamela. The Generalisation flourished; Conversation in consequence was possible.

But, with the coming of the Modern Newspaper, the Book has been deposed from its intimate position in the hearts of men. You cannot in London read a book 134

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RV 135 (LONDON AT LEISURE) from day to day, because you must know the news, in order to be a fit companion for your fellow Londoner. Connected thinking has become nearly impossible, because it is nearly impossible to find any general idea that will connect into one train of thought: "Home Rule for Egypt", "A Batch of Stabbing Cases", and "Infant Motorists". It is hardly worth while to trace the evolution of this process. In the '70's-'80's the Londoner was still said to get his General Ideas from the leader writers of his favourite paper. Nowadays even the leader is dying out.

So that, in general, the Londoner has lost all power of connected conversation, and nearly all power of connected thought. But if his dinner-table has become democratized, and he will not suffer a connected talker among his friends, he still retains some liking for duly licensed preachers, some respect for the official talker or moralist. Generally speaking, he sets apart one day in seven for this individual, and, generally speaking, that one day is the Sabbath.

The stolid London of squares and clean streets, to the westward, still retains something of its Sunday morning hush: the pavements are empty, and as if whitened, and where there are the large detached houses, with bits of garden, and large old trees, the town still has its air of being a vast cemetery of large mausoleums, that no one ever visits. Then indeed that third state, the deep leisure, settles upon the middle London of the professional and merchant classes. There is a stillness, a hush. Breakfast is half-an-hour 135

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RV 136 (LONDON AT LEISURE) or an hour later than on other days, the perfume of coffee, the savour of bacon, of fish, of sausages, floats on a softer and stiller air. The interminable rumble of all the commissariat wagons, of butchers', of greengrocers', of stores' carts, all that unending procession that on week days rattles and reverberates throughout the morning, is stilled. In the unaccustomed quiet you can hear the decent hiss of the kettle on its tripod, you can hear the rustle of stiff petticoats coming down from the second floor, you can hear even the voices of the servants in the kitchen, just suggested, as if down there an interminable monologue were being carried on.

And beside the breakfast dishes there lie, still, the Sunday papers. As a rule there are two of these, strips of white, and strips of buff, like supplementary table-napkins. The more venerable contain practically no news; they are glanced at to see the "Prices" of the day before. But the arms that support these sheets are not the nervous, hurried arms of the week day; the glances meander down the columns. There is time, there is plenty of time—as if the reader in that hush and pause, realised and felt, just for once, that he is after all a creature of Eternity, with All Time before him. There is an opulence, a luxury of minutes to be bathed in, as it were, in that sort of London Sunday, that makes one understand very well why that part of London is so loth to part with its Sabbath.

The Sunday paper is now, I should say, a much more general feature than it used to be. It invades the 136

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RV 137 (LONDON AT LEISURE) most Sabbatarian breakfast tables. But I remember that, as a boy, I used to have to walk—in Kensington—nearly two miles to procure an "Observer" for my father, every Sunday morning. (It was considered that the exercise was good for me, lacking my daily walk to school.) And the paper-shop was a dirty, obscure and hidden little place that during the week carried on the sale, mostly, of clandestine and objectionable broad sheets directed against the Papists. The Sunday paper, in fact, was shunned by all respectable newsagents—and, in consequence the Sunday breakfast table was a much less restful thing, since no book of sermons beside the plate could equal that respectable anodyne.

All over the town these sheets, as if they were white petals bearing oblivion, settle down, restful and beneficent, like so many doses of poppy seed. In the back-yards of small cottages, separated one from another by breast-high modern palings you find by the hundreds of thousands (it is certified by accountants) 's Weekly News; 's Weekly Paper; 's News of the Week; and, on each back doorstep, in his shirt sleeves, in his best trousers and waistcoat, voluptuously, soberly and restfully, that good fellow, the London mechanic, sits down to read the paper.

And, in general, those Sunday and Weekly Papers preach to a considerable extent. One middle class favourite contains at least six different headings under which can be found reflections on social subjects, on sporting subjects, on religious subjects, even on subjects purely jocular and on such abstruse matters as 137

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34 thereafter resided at that place. The present commodious dwelling was erected in 1883. Following is a list of the later agents, with the dates of their appointment:

The first school (pl., b) among the Pimas was opened by Rev. C.H. Cook, in the employ of the Government, February 18, 1871, in an adobe building about 2 miles west of the present agency of Sacaton. This day school had a good attendance from the first, and much of the present beneficial influence of the missionary may be ascribed to the command over the children which he obtained during the seven years that he occupied the position of teacher. The change to a boarding school located at the agency was made in 1881, and a Mr Armstrong was the first superintendent. The school buildings were destroyed by fire in November, 1888, and the mission church was occupied during the remainder of that year. The capacity of the school is now 225, though during our stay at Sacaton more than 300 were crowded in. Two and three children were apportioned to sleep in narrow single beds and even in the hospital the beds were overcrowded. For years the accommodations have been inadequate to receive all the children that desired education. Day schools at Gila Crossing and Salt River take care of a few, and three or four new buildings for day schools have been erected at Blackwater, Lehi, Maricopa, and Casa Blanca.

Three chronological records have thus far been preserved from among the many that are supposed to have existed among the American tribes. The first of these to be published was the Walum Olam of the Delawares, the definitive edition of which was published by D.G. Brinton. In 1877 Col. Garrick Mallery brought to light the "Lone-dog winter count" of the Sioux and subsequently secured several other reeords from the same tribe. Recently James Mooney

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RV 138 (LONDON AT LEISURE) "Are Clever Women Popular?" And the mechanics' Weeklies have sturdy "tones" of their own; they fulminate against the vices, meannesses and hypocrisies of the wealthy; they unveil the secrets of Courts; they preach patriotism or the love of God. So that, even if he no longer go to church or chapel, the Londoner on Sunday mornings, before his Sunday dinner, gets as a rule his dose of general reflections. And it is characteristic of him that, although he cannot bear preaching that he might have to answer—conversational preaching—he dearly loves the preacher who is beyond his reach. He will listen to sermons, to funeral orations, to public speeches, to lectures; he loves no novel that has not a moral basis of one kind or another, that has not some purpose or other, that does not preach some sermon; upon the stage he likes most of all moralising old men and heroic generalisations in favour of one virtue or another. But it is characteristic of the strong lines that he draws between life and the arts, that although he is never tired of seeing a Hamlet upon the stage he will call a Hamlet of private life morbid, dangerous, unhealthy and insupportable.

Thus, in the London of leisure, any social intercourse between men and women is nowadays become almost impossible. For no man can be himself without sooner or later proclaiming whatever may be the particular moral that he draws from life. He could not really utter his thoughts without revealing the fact that he loves virtue, or does not; or that he considers there is such a thing as virtue, or is not. He is therefore 138

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RV 139 (LONDON AT LEISURE) driven, the social Londoner at his leisure, to action instead of to speech. He puts his feet on the dinner table; beguiles his after dinners with cards, with recitations, with mechanical pianos, with the theatres, with moonlight automobile drives or with watching skating competitions on artificial ice. He plays golf; he witnesses cricket matches, football matches, billiard matches; he goes to two-penny gaffs in Mile End or parades in dense and inarticulate crowds of young men and young girls, for hours of an evening, in front of the shops of the great highways.

And these paradings are, for the million or so of the young people of this huge world that is London, the great delight, the great feature of a life otherwise featureless enough. In externals one parade is like another, but the small gradations are infinite. Thus in one parade there will be a great number of sets each of the same social level; each set with its gossip, its chaff, its manner of accost, its etiquette, its language. You get, as it were, an impression of entering one vast family party amid the rustle of feet, of dresses, the clitter-clatter of canes, the subdued shrieks of laughter, the hushed personal remarks. As a rule in all these parades, in the Fleet Street "Monkey Walk" as at Shepherd's Bush; in Islington as in Mile End Road; the youths early in the evening stand in knots, cloth cape not consorting with bowler hats and straw-yards with neither. They talk with a certain ostentation and a certain affectation of swagger, boasting, or acting as chorus in praise of one another. The girls parade up 139

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RV 140 (LONDON AT LEISURE) and down arm in arm, white aprons being shunned by stuff dresses, and feather hats shunning the straws perched forward over the eyes. Heads steal round swiftly over shoulders as line of girls passes knot of youths, and at these electric moments the voices grow higher and little shoves and nudges pass like waves in a field of corn. There is not any psychical moment for pairing off, but the process begins as the kindly dusk falls. A youth slips away from a knot, a girl hangs back from a line, till little by little the knots dwindle away altogether and there are no more lines.

The ceremonials of the actual greeting are astonishingly various and more rigidly observed than the etiquette of the Court of Spain. In Westbourne Grove the young shop assistant raises his bowler, drawls "How are you, Miss ?" for all the world as they do in Rotten Row. In the Mile End Road and in Shepherd's Bush the factory girls slap likely youths violently upon the back and are violently poked in the side for answer, both girl and young man uttering obscenities positively astounding, without any obscene intention in the world. And then commences, mysterious and ceremonial, the walking out, the period of probation, the golden age. For, after all, it is a golden age, an age of vague emotions, of words uttered, insignificant, but fraught with more meaning in each absurd syllable than in all the tirades of Romeo to the moon: "Do you like fringes?" "Um!—ah!—um!—Well—." "There, you are a one." "I dote on blue eyes."

140

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RV 141 (LONDON AT LEISURE) So that, by nine o'clock, the parades are full of couples, orderly, quiet, moving unceasingly up and down, with conversation utterly exhausted, with the glamorous fall of light and shade, with titillating emotions, with inscrutable excitements, rustling, supremely alive and supremely happy, with here and there a violent heartache, and here and there a great loneliness. And here for the good democrat is the best sight—the really good sight—of London at leisure, since here is London, the great London of the future, the London that matters to the democrat, in the making. This is London really young, really pagan, really idyllic, really moral, really promising a future to the race, really holding its population by the spell that nothing will ever break, the spell of contagious humanity and of infinite human contacts. These are the Londoners who will never go back.

So by her leisure moments London holds us. And if you desire a sight, equally impressive, of London at leisure, go down Piccadilly to Hyde Park Corner on a pleasant summer day. On the right of you you have all those clubs with all those lounging and luxuriating men. On the left there is a stretch of green park, hidden and rendered hideous by recumbent forms. They lie like corpses, or like soldiers in a stealthy attack, a great multitude of broken men and women, they, too, eternally at leisure. They lie, soles of boots to crowns of heads, just out of arm's reach one from the other for fear of being rifled by their couch-mates. They lie motionless, dun-coloured, pitiful and horrible, 141

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 the cutting lettuces, as it is of large size, handsome appearance, and the very choicest quality. It grows very quickly, is soon ready to cut, and stands a long time without running to seed, retaining throughout the season its delicate and delicious flavor. The growth is erect; a fully developed plant is ten to twelve inches in height, and nearly as great in diameter across the top; the outer edges of the leaves curl outward. The outer leaves are shaded with reddish-brown, while the inner leaves are almost white. It is entirely free from any bitter taste throughout the entire summer.

—This is a new variety, which makes very solid heads, of handsome appearance and the finest quality. Its earliness, large, tight heads and superior quality render it one of the best kinds for forwarding under glass.

—This, next to the Hard Head, is the best heading variety for general purposes, and where the brown markings in the latter kind are an objection, the gardener will find in this kind all the good qualities that go to make a desirable lettuce. It produces a beautiful head, very firm and solid, with handsomely curled leaves. The


text: The Soul of London/Chapter 5

title: The Soul of London/Chapter 5


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 head is of a silvery white color, very rich and buttery in flavor, and stands for some time before running to seed. Other excellent varieties of cabbage lettuces are Philadelphia White Cabbage, The Hanson and The Deacon, while The Tennis Ball is a great favorite with market gardeners for forcing.

This plant, like the carrot, is too little grown, as its green pods impart a fine flavor and consistency to soups and mixed stews; besides being very palatable when stowed and served as is a dish of asparagus; the pods can also be dried for winter use. The seeds should be planted in drills, and if the dwarf variety be used, which I think is preferable, as it produces an abundance of pods and does not take up nearly so much room, the plants may be allowed to stand about one and a half feet apart in the row, the rows being three feet apart, though a quarter or half a row in the kitchen garden, as here described, will furnish an ample supply, both for use and drying. For either purpose, they should be cut before the pods attain their full size or they will be hard and woody. For drying, the best way is to string


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 method is now only practiced to save labor in small gardens and to bring a few onions in for use early in the season.

To raise a satisfactory crop the ground must be free from weed seeds; it must be made as rich as possible and have constant cultivation from the time the seedlings break through the ground until the bulbs begin to ripen. The soil must be plowed, harrowed and raked, until it is in the finest possible condition to receive the seed, and it is important to select a plot for this purpose that has been kept free from weeds the preceding season. Root crops are the best to precede onions, as they not only leave the ground free from litter, but also, if they have been properly cultivated, leave the soil in fine tilth.

In our kitchen garden I would sow the seed in drills, twelve to fourteen inches apart, and cultivate with the wheel hoe; in field culture, or raised more extensively in the garden, plant in rows as closely as they can be worked with the cultivator, which, if it is provided with very narrow-bladed teeth, can be run through any rows where the horse can walk. For the kitchen garden, make the surface fine with a sharp steel rake, and if no drill is at hand, take a rake handle or blunt stick, and, drawing it along the garden line, scratch a drill about an inch deep. Sow the seed thinly, say an inch apart, but if there is reason to doubt the freshness of the seed, sow it thicker, so that a good stand may be assured. When the onions are an inch high, they should have their first working. Follow the wheel hoe or cultivator with a narrow-bladed hoe, not wider than an inch


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 and a half at the cutting part of the blade; it must be sharp and lightly handled, just loosening the ground and cutting off any stray woods. If there are no weeds the soil can be quickly loosened with a sharp steel rake. They should be worked every eight or ten days from this point until they begin to ripen; if it is neglected for longer periods than these, the gardener will rue it in days of back-breaking labor on hands and knees. When the young onions have made leaves two or three inches in height, they should be thinned out to from four to six inches apart in the rows, according to the size of the bulb made by the particular variety planted. The seed for onions grown in this way should be sown as early in the spring as the soil can be gotten into the proper fine condition, so that they may make as strong a growth as possible before the hot summer weather ripens them off. As they begin to ripen, all those with thick necks should be pulled and used upon the table, as they will not ripen properly, and if put away with the good bulbs will start all to rotting. There is a theory common with old gardeners that, by bending the tops over when they begin to ripen, the bulbs will be increased in size and will ripen more quickly; personally, I have tried it frequently, and have never been able to observe any difference in those bent and the ones left to ripen in the natural way. As soon as the bulbs are well matured, take them up at once, as a few rainy days might start them to growing again if left in the ground; pull off all the tops and roots which adhere to the dry bulbs and spread them thinly on the barn floor or on the


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RV 146 (REST IN LONDON) out a hand. His voice was sonorous and rather pompous, with the ore rotundo in which Victorian poets used to read their own poems to one another. He uttered:

He added, confidentially and confidently that: into this fane his corpse would be translated by his thousand votaries of the day to come. His name was one that posterity would not willingly let die.

His name was Tockson; he was by trade a cobbler, and he was rather a good poet. I really believe that Posterity might be none the worse if it ever come to read some of the verses that, with his own hands, he printed at odd moments on grocers' bag-paper and stored in the back of his shop. He troubled no reigning sovereign and no established poet with his verses; he never sent them to papers; sometimes he wrapped up repaired boots in an odd sheet, and he was not in the least discontented or in the least mad, unless it be a madness to trust in the literary judgement of Posterity and to take "Marlowe's mighty line" (the words were for ever on his lips) as a model.

He liked these cloisters, he said, because he could "contemplate the memorials" of forgotten monks, legislators, children and philanthropists freezing in the cold and soot outside the walls, whilst it was his destiny to be "translated" from Kensal Green 146

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RV 147 (REST IN LONDON) Cemetery into the inner warmth of the "fane". And it pleased him to recite his verses there, because there, it seemed to him, they sounded better than in Clerkenwell.

He came to see me once or twice, then I lost touch with him, and going down to Clerkenwell, found that his little shop had another tenant. He had been run over by a brewer's dray. His verses—half a hundred-weight of them—had been removed by a medical student from the hospital to which he had been taken. There were vague ideas in Clerkenwell that they were going to be made into a book, so that Posterity may still benefit, and his dust, which duly lies in Kensal Green, may still ensue "translation". London is full of such men—poets, generals, framers of laws, men of great mechanical talents, of great strength of will, of lofty intellects. They get called "characters" because they never have the chance, or have not the luck, the knack of self-advertisement, the opening to use their talents, their wills, their intellects. And this is the heaviest indictment that can be brought against a city or a world—that it finds no employment for its talents, that it uses them merely to form layers, as it were, of fallen leaves, that it blunts our sense of individualities.

This London does more than any other place in the world. As a city, it seems, as has been said, not only to turn Parsees into Londoners but to make us, who are Londoners, absolutely indifferent to the Parsees, the Kaffirs, the pickpockets or the men of genius we 147

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RV 148 (REST IN LONDON) may pass in its streets. It blunts, by its vastness, their peculiarities, and our interest it dulls. So that it seems to be a City formed, not for you and me, not for single men, but for bands of Encyclopaedists, Corporations, Societies. Speaking roughly, we may say that the pleasantest size for a graveyard—and what is London but a vast graveyard of stilled hopes in which the thin gnat-swarm of the present population dances its short day above the daily growing, indisturbable detritus of all the past at rest?—the pleasantest size for a graveyard is one in which each man and woman at rest could rise up and proclaim: "In my day I played a part. I had an influence upon the whole community here. Who is here that does not know my virtues and my vices? I planted the chestnut that gives all that shade on the green." But imagine the great London "Cemeteries"—for they are graveyards no longer—those vast stretches of heavy clay land, desecrated with all manner of hideous and futile excrescences that no passer-by will be caught to look at, appealing like piteous beggars in endless rows for the charity of your glance; the trees that appear half unreal in the mistiness because they are such that no one would place anywhere but in a "Cemetery"; the iron railings that are grotesque because they serve to keep nothing within a space that no living mortal is anxious to enter. But no doubt it is the penalty of being dead that one's memorial should be grotesque: the penalty of fighting against oblivion which is irresistible and pitiless. And, no doubt, it is with the sense of the fitness of things that London, the 148

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RV 149 (REST IN LONDON) city of oblivion, consigns her dead to the distance of dim and grim suburbs.

At any rate, there they take their rest and grow forgotten. For it is impossible to imagine the ghost of, say, Macadam, if Macadam be buried in a London cemetery—rising up at the end of some dreary and immense vista, and calling to its fellows: "I made my mark in my day: I influenced you all." That unfamiliar voice would arouse no other spirit; late comers would answer sleepily: "Oh, our roads are all wood and asphalte now. Who are you?"

And, if that for all units be the pleasantest for our resting-places, it is also the most human of units for those still labouring on this earth. For, as soon as a city becomes a mass of Corporations, individualities die out and are wasted of necessity. We may consider Athens, which was a city not more vast than is Kensington High Street: probably its inhabitants were not really more cultured or more wise, but certainly they had, each one of them, better chances of influencing all their fellow inhabitants. And that for humanity would seem, in the Individualist's eyes, to be the best of social units. Only the most hardened of Democrats, seeing humanity not as poor individuals but as parts of a theory, as negligible cog-wheels of a passionless machine, would deny that, from a human point of view Athens was better than Kensington High Street, or than Westminster itself. So London casts oblivion upon her dead and clouds out the individualities of her living.

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RV 150 (REST IN LONDON) We talk of the Londoner and we firmly believe there is a Londoner: but there is none. If, in walking along the streets we open our eyes, if we search for him, we never meet him. We see men like Jews, men like Arviragus, men with a touch of the negro, costermongers with the heads of Julius Caesars, but the Londoner we never see—and the search is painful. An awakened sense of observation is in London bewildering and nerve-shattering, because there are so many things to see and because these things flicker by so quickly. We drop the search very soon. And these great crowds chill out of us the spirit of altruism itself, or make of that spirit a curse to us. Living in a small community we know each member of it. We can hope to help, or to be interested in, each man and woman that we meet on the roads, or we can at least pay to each one the tribute of a dislike. But that, in London, is hopeless. The most we can do is to like or dislike bodies of men. If we read the "Morning " we have a contempt for the readers of the "Daily ", although we know personally no such reader. If we take so much interest in our town as to be Moderates—or the reverse—we may dislike our opponents. If we be working men we despise the professional classes and distrust all others. But the individual factor has gone and the power of the individual over the mass.

What prophet shall make London listen to him? Where is London's "distinguished fellow citizen?" These things are here unknown, and humanity, as the individual, suffers. Economically the city gains. Social 150

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RV 151 (REST IN LONDON) reformers, those prophets who see humanity as the gray matter of a theory, would make our corporations more vast, our nations still more boundless, for the sake of fiscal efficiency, for the avoidance of overlapping, in order to make our electric light more cheap or our tram services more adequate. The London County Council should control all South England from the North Foreland to the Land's End. But what we gain thus in the rates we must inevitably lose in our human consciousness and in our civic interests. Londoners, says the Individualist, take no interest in their municipal affairs because the spirit of place has gone. A certain vestry inscribes its dustcarts "R.B.K."—the Royal Borough—but the proud title was gained not by any wish of the inhabitants of the Court suburb, but because of some energetic mayor or borough alderman struggling to gain for himself an infinitesimal moment of Royal attention. What Socrates of London would commence a discourse, "Oh, men of London!"— " "

What Londoner, asks the Individualist, cares about Westminster? Nelson did at sea, and some people in Minneapolis, Minnesota, U.S.A., are thinking about this cradle of the spirit of their race, this old heart of England. But, for the Londoner, there is a convenient station on the Underground, and the name occurs frequently in the endless patter of many bus conductors. So Westminster, as an architectural whole, as a place with strong features, a great history, a place of countless anecdotes whispering from every stone, 151

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RV 152 (REST IN LONDON) Westminster is wasted on London. Yet it is the heart of England; the cradle of its laws, of its empire, of its, on the whole, beneficent influence upon the comity of nations. So London extinguishes thoughts about places.

There is in each man of us an Individualist strain more or less strong, and in each, a more or less strong flavour of the Theorist who sees mankind only in the bulk. I imagine the Individualist-half of a man musing like this: "I inhabit a large, pompous, gloomy London house whose atrocious architecture, in any other spot on the globe, would preclude any idea of my ever countenancing it to the extent of becoming its tenant. Two doors off there lives the greatest violinist in the world, next door an old lady who sat on the knee of George IV; her mind is alive with the most vivid of anecdotes of a century or so—and next door on the other side is a girl with a face as beautiful as that of Helen of Troy, a delicate and tremulous walk, a proud neck, a radiant costume. Yet, here, I care nothing about any one of them. They are "the people next door." For here in London we have no more any neighbours.

"In a smaller community I should choose my house carefully; I should talk to and admire the violinist, listen to and rave about the old lady, and no doubt fall in love with the girl like Helen of Troy. But here, her face will launch no ships; the old lady will find no Boswell to record her table talk; the violinist will die and, after his name has filled a decently small space in the obituary columns, will go to his rest in some cemetery—and will ensue oblivion. Had he been born in Argos, 152

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