text:
Page:Ten Days in a Mad-House (1887).djvu/98

96 doctor. Dr. Dent confessed that he had no means by which to tell positively if the bath was cold and of the number of women put into the same water. He knew the food was not what it should be, but said it was due to the lack of funds.

If nurses were cruel to their patients, had he any positive means of ascertaining it? No, he had not. He said all the doctors were not competent, which was also due to the lack of means to secure good medical men. In conversation with me, he said:

“I am glad you did this now, and had I known your purpose, I would have aided you. We have no means of learning the way things are going except to do as you did. Since your story was published I found a nurse at the Retreat who had watches set for our approach, just as you had stated. She was dismissed.”

Miss Anne Neville was brought down, and I went into the hall to meet her, knowing that the sight of so many strange gentlemen would excite her, even if she be sane. It was as I feared. The attendants had told her she was going to be examined by a crowd of men, and she was shaking with fear. Although I had left her only two weeks before, yet she looked as if she had suffered a severe illness, in that time, so changed was her appearance. I asked her if she had taken any medicine, and she answered in the affirmative. I then told her that all I wanted her to do was tell the jury all we had done since I was brought with her to the asylum, so they would be convinced that I was sane. She only knew me as Miss Nellie Brown, and was wholly ignorant of my story.

She was not sworn, but her story must have convinced all hearers of the truth of my statements.

“When Miss Brown and I were brought here the nurses were cruel and the food was too bad to eat. We did not have enough clothing, and Miss Brown asked for more all the time. I thought she was very kind, for


text:
Page:Ten Days in a Mad-House (1887).djvu/99

Rh when a doctor promised her some clothing she said she would give it to me. Strange to say, ever since Miss Brown has been taken away everything is different. The nurses are very kind and we are given plenty to wear. The doctors come to see us often and the food is greatly improved.”

Did we need more evidence?

The jurors then visited the kitchen. It was very clean, and two barrels of salt stood conspicuously open near the door! The bread on exhibition was beautifully white and wholly unlike what was given us to eat.

We found the halls in the finest order. The beds were improved, and in hall 7 the buckets in which we were compelled to wash had been replaced by bright new basins.

The institution was on exhibition, and no fault could be found.

But the women I had spoken of, where were they? Not one was to be found where I had left them. If my assertions were not true in regard to these patients, why should the latter be changed, so to make me unable to find them? Miss Neville complained before the jury of being changed several times. When we visited the hall later she was returned to her old place.

Mary Hughes, of whom I had spoken as appearing sane, was not to be found. Some relatives had taken her away. Where, they knew not. The fair woman I spoke of, who had been sent here because she was poor, they said had been transferred to another island. They denied all knowledge of the Mexican woman, and said there never had been such a patient. Mrs. Cotter had been discharged, and Bridget McGuinness and Rebecca Farron had been transferedtransferred [sic] to other quarters. The German girl, Margaret, was not to be found, and Louise had been sent elsewhere from hall 6. The Frenchwoman, Josephine, a great, healthy woman, they said was dying

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


text:
Page:Ten Days in a Mad-House (1887).djvu/100

98 of paralysis, and we could not see her. If I was wrong in my judgment of these patients’ sanity, why was all this done? I saw Tillie Mayard, and she had changed so much for the worse that I shuddered when I looked at her.

I hardly expected the grand jury to sustain me, after they saw everything different from what it had been while I was there. Yet they did, and their report to the court advises all the changes made that I had proposed.

I have one consolation for my work—on the strength of my story the committee of appropriation provides $1,000,000 more than was ever before given, for the benefit of the insane.


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/230

 striven since his earliest attempts at versification. It was a book that but few could enjoy at a first reading, but the strange rhythmic cadences, the seemingly perverse and distorted handling of the language, and the delicate and unusual variations on the Hardy-situations and the Hardy-philosophy that one learned to look for, finally exercised a charm that completely dispelled all memory of the impression of queerness that distracted the reader at first. Except for the collection of war-poems at the end, the book, as well as the Late Lyrics and Earlier (1922), consisted entirely of miscellaneous and entirely undated pieces.

Although the characteristics noted above serve to distinguish the volumes from each other, these books present, in general, such uniform qualities in technique, material, and content, that a chronological arrangement of the later lyrics seems rather futile. To follow out such an arrangement would, at all events, be almost an impossibility, as Hardy took care to date but very few of his poems. It is all one can do to extricate the very early poems from the mass of the later, "post-fictional" material. Hardy's aims, both artistic and intellectual, have been singularly steady and consistent through his long career, and while his later work seems to show an increasing facility and sureness of touch, his objectives remain substantially the same as they were when he ceased merely experimenting and began to write poetry in earnest. One finds the same kind of criticism leveled at


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/231

 Moments of Vision that was first directed against Wessex Poems and then against The Dynasts, and one can find, to a lesser degree, in Wessex Poems many of the qualities that raise Satires of Circumstance and Moments of Vision to the rank of "great poetry."

Before attacking the subject-matter which the poet uses, or the aspect and inner significance of the poetic edifice he has raised, the questions connected with his purely technical qualifications for executing the tasks of a lyrist must be disposed of. The language, style, and verse-structure of Hardy's lyric poems have caused more than one critic and sincere reader to throw down his books and refuse to attempt to penetrate further into the mysteries of poetry that presented such an uncouth and forbidding exterior.

Hardy's choice and use of English words in his poems has provoked and irritated many a commentator, and is a subject that demands rather close and extended comment, in spite of the warning example of George Meredith's dull professor, who "pores over a little inexactitude in phrases and pecks at it like a domestic fowl." The guiding principle that is undoubtedly at the base of Hardy's handling of the language is that of using at all times the exact and precise word for the expression of an idea. The sense of a passage, whether of prose or verse, and the clearness of the picture or impression to be conveyed, are never to be sacrificed to the sound—to the purely sensory appeal of the language. This has been noticed even by readers of his prose, and has already been discovered to be one of his few definitely expressed tenets on the subject of poetic composition. It may be of


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/107

Rh spontaneously kindled, while the mngiclan pours out a libation, by having lime instead of ashes burning nnderncath, and refined frankincense and a large quantity [of tow], and a bundle of anointed tapers and of gall nuts, hollow within, and supplied with [concealed] fire. And after some delay, [the sorcerer] makes [the pyramid] emit smoke from the mouth, by both putting fire in the gall nut, and encircling it with tow, and blowing into the mouth. The linen cloth, however, that has been placed round the cauldron, [and] on which he deposits the coals, on account of the underlying brine, would not be burned; besides, that it has itself been washed in brine, and then smeared with the white of an egg, along with moist alum. And if, likewise, one mix in these the juice of house-leek along with vinegar, and for a long time previously smear it [with this preparation], after being washed in this drug, it continues altogether fire-proof.

After, then, we have succinctly explained the powers of the secret arts practised among these [magicians], and have shown their easy plan for the acquisition of knowledge, neither are we disposed to be silent on the following point, which is a necessary one,—how that, loosing the seals, they restore the sealed letters, with the actual seals themselves.


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/232

 some interest to compare this theory of Hardy's, and its application in his poems, with the first article in the creed of our present-day Imagist school, which reads: "To use the language of common speech, but to employ always the exact word, not the nearly-exact, nor the merely decorative word." With the latter—and more important—part of this fundamental tenet, Hardy is entirely in sympathy, but is his language that of common speech? In the novels, certainly. Nowhere in his prose, which is usually of a sublime simplicity, can one find such a monstrosity as this notorious and frequently quoted passage perpetrated by Meredith,—the speech of an eighteen-year-old girl: "We have met. It is more than I have merited. We part. In mercy let it be forever. Oh, terrible word! Coined by the passions of our youth, it comes to us for our sole riches when we are bankrupt of earthly treasures, and is the passport given by Abnegation unto Woe that prays to quit this probationary sphere."

But what of Hardy's verse? Let us open the Wessex Poems, or the Collected Poems, and glance at the very first stanza of the very first poem:

Certainly this is not the language of common, nor of uncommon, speech. There are those who will perhaps deny that it is language at all. The trouble does not lie in the fact that it is a rather unsuccessful attempt to


text:
Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/3

 “registrar” means local registrar, provincial registrar, or Central Registrar appointed by the Minister for the execution of this Act;

“Minister” means the Minister in charge of the execution of this Act.

A Thai national must have a given name and a family name and may have a secondary name.

No given name or secondary name shall be identical or intended to be similar to the name of the King, the name of the Queen, or a royally conferred name, nor shall it contain an impolite word or meaning.

The recipient of a noble title, or the recipient of a noble title who has lost such noble title not by cause of recall, may use the royally conferred name according to such noble title as his given name or secondary name.

No family name—

shall be identical or intended to be similar to the name of the King or the name of the Queen;

shall be identical or intended to be similar to a royally conferred name, save where it is the royally conferred name of one’s own, of one’s ascendant, or of one’s descendant;

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/3


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/233

 make correct Sapphic stanzas sound smooth in English (which Swinburne proved could be done), but the perplexity of the reader begins before he has had time to recognize the metrical scheme. The word chancefulness stops him almost as soon as he begins to read. He then stumbles a bit over unchosen, but reads on, until stopped again by fellowlike. Upon repeated readings he will, if he is persistent, gradually divine the poet's meaning, grow accustomed to the curious cadences of the verse, and finally will experience a distinct pleasure in re-perusing the piece. The cardinal stumbling-block to an appreciation of Hardy's lyric poetry is undoubtedly the effort exacted of the reader by the seemingly uncouth words habitually employed. Trained linguists have observed, however, that Hardy is very rarely indeed responsible for the actual coinage or invention of a new word, and that in the few cases in which he produces a new form, it is invariably evolved logically out of established and known elements of the language. His practice is not, for the most part, that of word-manufacture, but of word-preservation. Unconsciously following the example of the celebrated Hariri and other Arabic poets and men of letters who devoted their lives to the preservation of their ancient language in all its marvellous flexibility, he attempts to enliven the English of modern poetry through the systematic but always felicitous introduction of antique and pseudo-antique forms and expressions. In the fulfilment of this aim he consistently reverts to the native, or Anglo-Saxon, element of the language, and very rarely resurrects an old French derivative. The hapax legomena of Hardy are almost


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/108

102 Melting pitch, resin, and sulphur, and moreover asphalt, in equal parts, [and] forming the ointment into a figure, they keep it by them. When, however, it is time to loose a small tablet, smearing with oil their tongue, next with the latter anointing the seal, [and] heating the drug with a moderate fire, [the sorcerers] place it upon the seal; and they leave it there until it has acquired complete consistence, and they use it in this condition as a seal. But they say, likewise, that wax itself with fir-wood gum possesses a similar potency, as well as two parts of mastich with one part of dry asphalt. But sulphur also by itself effects the purpose tolerably well, and flower of gypsum strained with water, and of gum. Now this [last mixture] certainly answers most admirably also for sealing molten lead. And that which is accomplished by the Tuscan wax, and refuse of resin, and pitch, and asphalt, and mastich, and powdered spar, all being boiled together in equal parts, is superior to the rest of the drugs which I have mentioned, while that which is effected by the gum is not inferior. In this manner, then, also, they attempt to loose the seals, endeavouring to learn the letters written within.

These contrivances, however, I hesitated to narrate in this book, perceiving the danger lest, perchance, any knavish person, taking occasion [from my account], should attempt [to practise these juggleries]. Solicitude, however, for many young persons, who could be preserved from such practices, has persuaded me to teach and publish, for security's sake, [the foregoing statements.] For although one person may make use of these for gaining instruction in evil, in this way somebody else will, by being instructed [in these practices], be preserved from them. And the magicians themselves, corrupters of life, will be ashamed in plying their art. And learning these points that have been previously elucidated by us, they will possibly be restrained from their folly. But that this seal may not be broken, let me seal it with hog's lard and hair mixed with wax.


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/234

 invariably old English words, or, less frequently, direct descendants of Greek or Latin originals.

This Teutonic, as distinguished from the Celtic or Romance viewpoint with regard to the history and future development of English is not without some significance for the study of Hardy's larger "Weltanschauung." Again we discover his spirit to be en rapport with the ancient inhabitants of Wessex, the genius of whose country has always exercised such a firm hold upon him.

Among critics it was fashionable, until a very short time ago, to point the finger of scorn at Hardy's efforts in versification. His technique as a prose-novelist has always evoked admiration for its purity and sureness of touch, but these qualities do not seem to have been so easily discoverable in his poetry. Even so acute an appraiser of contemporary literature as Richard Le Gallienne, while admitting Hardy's claim to greatness, dismissed his verse by calling it "poetry-in-travail rather than poetry delivered." Lawrence Binyon probed the matter somewhat more deeply, when he observed that the mechanism of a Hardy-stanza "creaks and, groans with the pressure of its working," and that "there is something incongruous between the prosaic plainness of speech and the tight structure of the rather elaborate lyric form to which it is trimmed." The recognition of Hardy's merits and demerits as a versifier will, perhaps fortunately, depend ultimately on the examples of his art that he has himself produced, rather than on the hastily formed opinions of his first readers.

No one will ever claim for Hardy's poetry the golden melody of a Shelley or a Burns, nor the symphonic splen-


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/235

 dor of sound that belongs to the works of Keats and Swinburne; he makes no direct appeal to the ear of his reader. But after repeated readings of his lyrics the first fantastic grotesqueness of effect wears off, leaving at times a fascinatingly pungent quality that is seen finally to be the inevitable medium for the thought that is expressed. His more prosy lyrics should not be viewed as wilful distortions of set and elaborate measures, but should be read as naturally as is consistent with the preservation of their symmetry. Then, as the syncopations, misplaced quantities and compensations outnumber the consonances, the effect will approach that of free verse and prose-poetry. In its rhythmic freedom, and in its forsaking of sweetness of melody for its own sake, Hardy's mature poetry is perhaps analogous to the work of many modern musicians, who are indulging in unheard-of dissonances, and whose rhythmic complexities have broken away from all metronomic restraints.

There seems to be little doubt that the natural and free forms of Oriental poetry have recently made a tremendous impress upon contemporary poets, whose work has heretofore been of strictly geometric patterns, both simple and complex. The unforced cadences of speech are perhaps winning the fight over the old-fashioned artificiality too easily for the health of the art—but there is no danger if the contest is really between the mechanical, straight-edged architecture of man and the unconscious artistry of nature. However that may be, Hardy's sense of form, developed by his earliest profession and applied throughout a long career of prose-writing, did not forsake him when he turned to composition in verse. He


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/109

Rh

But neither shall I be silent respecting that piece of knavery of these [sorcerers], which consists in the divination by means of the cauldron. For, making a closed chamber, and anointing the ceiling with cyanus for present use, they introduce certain vessels of cyanus, and stretch them upwards. The cauldron, however, full of water, is placed in the middle on the ground; and the reflection of the cyanus falling upon it, presents the appearance of heaven. But the floor also has a certain concealed aperture, on which the cauldron is laid, having been [previously] supplied with a bottom of crystal, while itself is composed of stone. Underneath, however, unnoticed [by the spectators], is a compartment, into which the accomplices assembling, appear invested with the figures of such gods and demons as the magician wishes to exhibit. Now the dupe, beholding these, becomes astonished at the knavery of the magician, and subsequently believes all things that are likely to be stated by him. But [the sorcerer] produces a burning demon, by tracing on the wall whatever figure he wishes, and then covertly smearing it with a drug mixed according to this manner,—viz. of Laconian and Zacynthian asphalt,—while next, as if under the influence


text:
Page:Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (IA journalof404219041905roya).pdf/314

 ... ... 39. Cheang Hong Lim Lane. 40. Cheang Hong Lim Street. 41. Cheang Lim Hien Street. 42. Cheang Wan Seng Road. 43. Cheng Cheok Street.

... (iii) Lau pa-sat ma-ta-chhu au. Kong chioh-a chiu-long lai. Peh keng-a Kong chioh-a chiu-long lai. Chiu-long piⁿ Gu-kak hang.

(ii) Si-shü kai ... Chau-long noi ... Chau-long noi Chau-long pin Ngau-kok hong


text:
Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/236

 took hold of the traditional rigid molds and poured into them his seething feeling and vital thought. Occasionally the very vitality of his message distorted or smashed the formal pattern chosen—but the result was not then necessarily inartistic, because the tortured verse often expressed a torturing and grinding philosophy. It cannot be said that he advocated formal freedom, thereby allying himself with the younger radical poets, but he frequently smashed the old forms, perhaps unintentionally, and produced something that is as new and fresh as the latest of the "new voices," and much freer from absurdity. Above all things, his form was perfectly suited to his subject-matter.

The reader of Hardy's lyrics was amazed no less by the variety of material and idea he encountered than by the variety of formal expression. He approached the books with a slight feeling of dread—anticipating an endless succession of fruitless "lucubrations over the social rubric" and dismal speculations on the purposelessness of the universe. He found, indeed, the expected Hardy-philosophy, expressed with an accentuation rather than a softening of the ideas that keep the Hardy-novels on the shelves of public libraries rather than in the hands of the readers. But he found also a poet—even though he was a cosmic poet and made no pretensions to be anything else—who was exceedingly responsive to the life that seethes about him for whom the flavor of events and experiences was a thing in which no less pure delight was to be found because its significance in a larger


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/28

 “IN THE BITTER COLD.”

growing cold upon her breast, and that gave her a little energy. She broke to pieces a wooden stool, and kindled a flame with it, wrapped her- self in a coarse cloak that still remained, and sat down, holding the child, while the boy crouched close to her side.

Suddenly there was the tramp of a horse—it paused before the house. Margaret know that the moment had come.

The outer door opened, and the landlord entered, muffled to the chin.

“Well, Mrs. Moulton, here I am you see—I expect you are going to square accounts and give me a supper into the bargain?”

Margaret had not stirred from her seat; she felt no dread, though the boy was crouching in fear to her side, but she was past that.

“Indeed, sir,” she said, lifting her dreary gaze to his face, ‘‘I have not a penny of money, nor have I tasted food since last night.”

“Hey day! a fine story; and what are you going to do about paying your debts?”

“Have a little mercy—for these children’s sake do not be too hard upon me—at least let us die here!”

“Don’t talk to me! Why, you've got a bigger fire than I'd think of having. Hallo! if you ain’t burning up the furniture for fear I'll seize it! Why, you wretched, abominable woman!”’

“I couldn't see these children freeze! Qh, think what your own feelings would be to hear your babes cry with cold and hunger, and not a morsel to give them!”

“People shouldn’t have children unless they’re able to support them. No, ma’am, out of this you shall go! I shouldn’t wonder if you had plenty of money—you only want to get rid of paying your debts.”

“Do I look like it?’? she exclaimed, throw- ing back the hood of her cloak, and exposing her pale, famine-stricken face. ‘‘Take all there is in the house, but leave us the shelter of this roof for a few days longer.”

“Take all there is? Of course I shall—it’s mine by right; but I don’t want any of the live stock with it, so you must pack!”

“Not tonight—oh, my God—not tonight! Hear the wind—you would not murder us!”

“Go and beg—anybody’ll let you sleep in their barn—but I’ve been so cheated that you needn’t expect any mercy from me.”

“Just tonight? We will go in the morning, but wait till then.”

“I won't wait a moment! Come, you've got your cloak on and are ready to start—you ought to be obliged to me for leaving you a rag to wear. Out with you, I say!”

“Qh, you would not drive me away now—you must be human! To-morrow will be the first day of the New Year—would you leave a memory like that to haunt you?”

“Don’t attempt that sort of thing, it’s all no use. Up with you, I say, and be off!”

He forced her out of the chair, and pushed her toward the door with coarse imprecations.

Margaret ceased to struggle—she uttered no word, but still holding the babe to her breast, and the boy still clinging to her robe, allowed him to thrust her along. He pushed them out upon the steps, and the door closed clanging.

She heard him nailing fast the windows and doors, and in a few moments he appeared. He fastened a placard upon the fence, and then turned toward her.

“If you are seen round these premises tomorrow morning, I'll find those that'll clear you out,” he said; “remember, I am a man of my word!”

He got into his sleigh and drove off; the echo died in the distance: there was no sound but the moan of the wind and the low wail of :he child.

The snow was falling rapidly, and cut like ice upon her bare forehead. She dragged her self along a short distance from the house, and sank down against a high fence. A paper was rattling in the wind—it was the announcement of the coming sale of her furniture.

“Mamma, mamma!” pleaded the boy, “do speak to me! I don’t mind the cold; but it seems as if you were dead.”

“Yes, Willie, yes,” she said, faintly, “mamma is here.”

“Can’t you walk, mamma? Do try! Somebody’ll let us stay in their house, I know they will.”

“It’s of no use,” murmured Margaret, “it will soon be over—very soon!’’

She was so weak and exhausted that the cold had taken an almost instantaneous effect upon her; the blood in her veins seemed congealed to ice: yet, in spite of all, a strange drowsiness which she could not overcome, stole over her.

“Mamma! mamma!” cried the boy again.

His voice of agony brought her back to her- self. She opened her eyes and looked round.

“Yes, Willie, yes!”

“Come, mamma, do come!”

She strove to rise, but fell back upon the ground. The snow was sifting heavily upon their garments, and each instant the wind in- creased in force, till it threatened to overwhelm them in the gathering drifts.

Margaret’s senses began to forsake her—she heard strange voices in the beating storm——her


text:
Page:Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (IA journalof404219041905roya).pdf/315

 ... 街書詩 後厝打馬虱吧老 內廊酒仔石貢 仔間八 內廊酒仔石貢 邊廊酒 巷角牛

has been in this street for the past $2 1⁄2$ years.) (ii) Phonetic (Si-shü for Cecil.) (iii) 'Behind the Police Station near the old market.' 'Stone-breaking spirit-depôt within' i.e. 'within spirit-depôt (quarter) in the Havelock Road neighbourhood.' (All lower Havelock Road and district is called "Stone-breaking (place)." There is a disused spirit factory in Cheang Chong Lim Lane which leads off Havelock Road. Cf: Beng Hoon Road.) 'Eight small buildings.' (This is a very short street, so the name is not altogether inappropriate.) (See under Chenng Hong Lim Lane.) 'Beside the spirit-depôt' (cf. Beng Hoon Road.) 'Ox-horn lane': so called because the street runs in a semicircle, more or less, from Tanjong Pagar Road back


text:
Page:Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (IA journalof404219041905roya).pdf/316

 ... 44. China Street ... ... 45. Chinchew Street 46. Chin Hin Street ... ...

... (i) Kiau-keng khau ... (iii) Gi-hin kong-si Tau-hu koi (i) Toa-po sim koi-a ... (iii) Sin pa-sat sin koi

... ... (ii) Po-tsz-chheung kai ... Tau-fu kai ... (ii) Chhiu-chau san kai. ...


text: Ten Days in a Mad-House/Chapter 16

title: Ten Days in a Mad-House/Chapter 16


text: Ten Days in a Mad-House/Chapter 17

title: Ten Days in a Mad-House/Chapter 17


text:
Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/4

 shall duplicate a family name granted by a king or family name already registered;

shall contain an impolite word or meaning;

shall contain more than ten consonants, save where a royally conferred name is used as a family name.

Any Thai national who desires to register a family name newly created shall make an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration.

When the local registrar considers and finds that the family name created according to the application is not contrary to this Act, he shall further submit it to [the relevant officers] according to the order [of precedence] until it reaches the Central Registrar. Once approval has been obtained from the Central Registrar, the local registrar shall accept to register the family name and issue a certificate indicating the registration of the family name to the applicant.

Execution of this section shall be in accordance with the criteria and procedure designated in a ministerial regulation.

A family name lawfully registered prior to the day of coming into force of this Act shall be deemed as if having been registered under this Act.

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/4


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/110

104 of prophetic frenzy, he moves the lamp towards the wall. The drug, however, is burned with considerable splendour. And that a fiery Hecate seems to career through air, he contrives in the mode following. Concealing a certain accomplice in a place which he wishes, [and] taking aside his dupes, he persuades them [to believe himself], alleging that he will exhibit a flaming demon riding through the air. Now he exhorts them immediately to keep their eyes fixed until they see the flame in the air, and that [then], veiling themselves, they should fall on their face "until he himself should call them; and after having given them these instructions, he, on a moonless night, in verses speaks thus:

And while speaking these words, fire is seen borne through the air; but the [spectators] being horrified at the strange apparition, [and] covering their eyes, fling themselves speechless to earth. But the success of the artifice is enhanced by the following contrivance. The accomplice whom I have spoken of as being concealed, when he hears the incantation ceasing, holding a kite or hawk enveloped with tow, sets fire to it and releases it. The bird, however, frightened by the flame, is borne aloft, and makes a [proportionably] quicker flight, which these deluded persons beholding, conceal themselves, as if they had seen something divine. The winged creature, however, being whirled round by the fire, is borne whithersoever chance may have it, and burns now the houses, and now the courtyards. Such is the divination of the sorcerers.


text:
Page:Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (IA journalof404219041905roya).pdf/317

 ... 口間賭 街場字寶 司公興義 街腐荳 仔街新城大 街新州潮 街新虱巴新

again to Tanjong Pagar Road, forming a cresent [sic] or pair of ox-horns. (i) 'Gambling houses' mouth. i.e. the street on to which the gambling houses open. (ii) 'Gambling-hall street.' (iii) 'Gi-Hin Kongsi house.' (There was formerly a Kongsi-house of the old Gi-Hin Society here.) 'Bean-curd street.' (i) 'Big town new little street.' ('Big town' is distinguished from 'small town,' which is across the Stamford Road canal; see under Beach Road. It is necessary to add the 'Big town' here, because there is another 'New Street'—Fraser Street—in 'small town.' (ii) 'Tiechiu new street.' (The district is largely inhabited by Tiechius, but the street itself is a Cantonese brothel street.) (iii) 'New market new street.' (New market' is the Ellenborough Market close by.)


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/27

“IN

THE BITTER  COLD.”

old had eo lacerated his feelings kept him silent, and he appeared cold and reserved when his heart wae most interested.

So it easily happened that Miss Melville’s name had never been uttered by him, though the thought of her brought no pain. That letter had filled him with great anxiety on account of the friend whom he truly loved, and the sudden journey was undertaken to preserve him from the misery which must result from a marriage like that.

Mr. Hope had saved his friend, but returned to find his own life dsrkened forever.

Thus two beings wf like sympathies, loving each other fondly, and with every prospect of happiness, had been separated by the faults which had grown up in their natures from the effecta of false teachings. A single idle word had served to do this, and now they were far asunder, each forced to bear in solitude that weight of wretchedness.

Mr. Hope's search for his wife was vain, and he was forced to settle down in his lonely home, maddened by the thought df the suffering those dear ones must. endure, and the bleak future which stretched out before him.

So a year passed, a long, terrible year, the remembrance of which would have cast a shadow over a whole sfter-life of happiness, and once more winter was at hand.

Margaret had taken refuge in a smal! village in the interior of Pennsylvania, a spot so remote from the highways of travel that it seemed to offer every security she could desire. In the outskirts of the village stood an old brown house rapidly going to ruin, so dilapidated and deso- late, that for several years no tenant for it could be found. The proprietor was a miserly man, who took every advantage of Margaret’s ignor- ance of business to make extortionate demands.

So in that old house she arranged her home. It was a dreary place enough, and she had been gently bred. There were a thousand petty details to irk her; the furniture which she had been able to purchase was of the coarsest kind, and the labor of the little household was per- formed by her own hands.

To avoid discovery she had taken her mother’s name, and her dress led those about her to sup- pose that she was a widow; there was no mockery in her assumption of that garb—had she bent in anguish over her husband’s grave, her heart would have been less widowed than now.

After a short time the little boy fell ill, and she was kept in constant attendance upon him for many days and nights. When he had re- covered, suffering and fatigue threw her into a nervous fever, which prostrated her for several weeks. She was forced to have attendance, and the only person to be found was a woman re- commended by her physician, a good-natured soul, but whose rough kindness annoyed Mar- garet as much as the doctor’s prying curiosity.

So the winter wore on wretchedly enough, and when spring came, Margaret found that ber little fund had dwindled almost to nothing.

She made an effort to start a school, but she was too shy to get along easily with the villagers, they thought her very proud and extremely mys- terious—only hoped there was nothing wrong about her, but they had their doubts! Still she succeeded in obtaining a amall class of children, and did her best by them, but the employment was anything but lucrative. One woman sent her a pan of doughnuts by way of compensation, and several of the others forgot to pay her at all, nor could Margaret summon resolution suffi- cient to refresh their flagging memories.

Now the winter was upon her, cold and terrible. Had the neighbors known of her actual sufferings they would gladly have aided her, but they had grown to avoid her entirely, and she sometimes did not leave the house for days. Often the little boy cried for food, and she had not enough to satisfy him, but still she did not wholly despair, she must bear up for the sake of those children. Late in December the rent fell due, and the land- lord was punctual to the moment.

‘sWell, Mrs. Moulton,” he said, abruptly en- tering, ‘‘have you got any money for me?”

Margaret tremblingly told him of her poverty, and’begged him to wait for a little time; at first he would not consent, but at length he said that in ten days he would come again.

‘‘That’ll be the day before New-Year’s, ma’am, and if you haven't got the cash ready, why you must make tracks, that’s all.”

Margaret scarcely remembered the menace, for her babe was ill, and every thought was devoted to it.

The days passed on, and their misery had reached the climax—there was nothing left but beggary or death. It was the last day of the year, and to Margaret there remained neither flour nor wood. The little boy cried with hunger and cold, and the infant slept upon her bosom moaning with pain even in its slumber.

The day wore on, and there was no hope of relief. Margaret sank down in her misery— terrible thoughts of suicide came over her—death for her and those infants would be a blessing; but she was still sane enough to put by the ides.

It was growing evening, and the fire had died to a few faint embers. Margaret felt the babe


text:
Page:Ten Days in a Mad-House (1887).djvu/3

OR,

Nellie Bly’s Experience on Blackwell’s Island.

FEIGNING INSANITY IN ORDER TO REVEAL

ASYLUM HORRORS.

THE TRYING ORDEAL OF THE NEW YORK WORLD’S

GIRL CORRESPONDENT.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887, by Norman L.

Munro, in the office of the Librarian of Congress,

at Washington, D. C.

NEW YORK:

NORMAN L. MUNRO, PUBLISHER,

24 AND 26 VANDEWATER ST.


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/111

Rh

And they make moon and stars appear on the celling after this manner. In the central part of the ceiling, having fastened a mirror, placing a dish full of water equally [with the mirror] in the central portion of the floor, and setting in a central place likewise a candle, emitting a faint light from a higher position than the dish,—in this way, by reflection, [the magician] causes the moon to appear by the mirror. But frequently, also, they suspend on high from the ceiling, at a distance, a drum, but which, being covered with some garment, is concealed by the accomplice, in order that [the heavenly body] may not appear before the [proper] time. And afterwards placing a candle [within the drum], when the magician gives the signal to the accomplice, he removes so much of the covering as may be sufficient for eflfecting an imitation representing the figure of the moon as it is at that particular time. He smears, however, the luminous parts of the drum with cinnabar and gum; and having pared around the neck and bottom of a flagon of glass ready behind, he puts a candle in it, and places around it some of the requisite contrivances for making the figures shine, which some one of the accomplices has concealed on high; and on receiving the signal, he throws down from above the contrivances, so to make the moon appear descending from the sky.

And the same result is achieved by means of a jar in sylvan localities. For it is by means of a jar that the tricks in a house are performed. For having set up an altar, subsequently is [placed upon it] the jar, having a lighted lamp;


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/112

106 when, however, there are a greater number of lamps, no such sight is displayed. After then the enchanter invokes the moon, he orders all the lights to be extinguished, yet that one be left faintly burning; and then the light, that which streams from the jar, is reflected on the ceiling, and furnishes to those present a representation of the moon; the mouth of the jar being kept covered for the time which it would seem to require, in order that the representation of full moon should be exhibited on the ceiling.

But the scales of fishes—for instance, the sea-horse—cause the stars to appear to be; the scales being steeped in a mixture of water and gum, and fastened on the ceiling at intervals.

The sensation of an earthquake they cause in such a way, as that all things seem set in motion; ordure of a weasel burned with a magnet upon coals [has this effect].

And they exhibit a liver seemingly bearing an inscription in this manner. With the left hand he writes what he wishes, appending it to the question, and the letters are traced with gall juice and strong vinegar. Then taking up the liver, retaining it in the left hand, he makes some delay, and then it draws away the impression, and it is supposed to have, as it were, writing upon it.

But putting a skull on the ground, they make it speak in


text:
Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/5

 A person who has a family name registered may permit any Thai national to share such family name by making an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration.

The granting of permission according to this section shall be valid only when the local registrar has issued to the person who is to use the family name a certificate indicating that the use of the family name has been permitted.

A woman who has a husband shall use the family name of the husband.

A woman whose marriage ends by divorce shall return to her former family name.

A woman whose marriage ends by death of her husband shall use the family name of the husband.

A person who fosters children or owns a hospital, asylum, or child maintenance institution, if desiring to register a family name newly created for joint or separate use by the foster children or by the children at the said place who are Thai nationals without family names, shall make an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration or of the locality where the said place is situated, and the provisions of paragraph 2 and paragraph 3 of section 9 shall apply mutatis mutandis.

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/5


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/113

Rh this manner. The skull itself is made out of the caul of an ox; and when fashioned into the requisite figure, by means of Etruscan wax and prepared gum, [and] when this membrane is placed around, it presents the appearance of a skull, which seems to all to speak when the contrivance operates; in the same manner as we have explained in the case of the [attendant] youths, when, having procured the windpipe of a crane, or some such long-necked animal, and attaching it covertly to the skull, the accomplice utters what he wishes. And when he desires [the skull] to become invisible, he appears as if burning incense, placing around, [for this purpose,] a quantity of coals; and when the wax catches the heat of these, it melts, and in this way the skull is supposed to become invisible.

These are the deeds of the magicians, and innumerable other such [tricks] there are which work on the credulity of the dupes, by fair balanced words, and the appearance of plausible acts. And the heresiarchs, astonished at the art of these [sorcerers], have imitated them, partly by delivering their doctrines in secrecy and darkness, and partly by advancing [these tenets] as their own. For this reason, being


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/114

108 desirous of warning the multitude, we have been the more painstaking, in order not to omit any expedient practised by the magicians, for those who may be disposed to be deceived. We have been however drawn, not unreasonably, into a detail of some of the secret [mysteries] of the sorcerers, which are not very requisite, to be sure, in reference to the subject taken in hand; yet, for the purpose of guarding against the villanous and incoherent art of magicians, may be supposed useful. Since, therefore, as far as delineation is feasible, we have explained the opinions of all [speculators], exerting especial attention towards the elucidation of the opinions introduced as novelties by the heresiarchs; [opinions] which, as far as piety is concerned, are futile and spurious, and which are not, even among themselves, perhaps deemed worthy of serious consideration. [Having pursued this course of inquiry], it seems expedient that, by means of a compendious discourse, we should recall to the [reader's] memory statements that have been previously made.

Among all those who throughout the earth, as philosophers and theologians, have carried on investigations, has prevailed


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/29

THE FAIRY RING

pain began to be less felt—the cries of her infant were scarcely heard.

“Mamma!” said the boy again, and more faintly, “I’m not quite so cold—the snow will cover us up and we can sleep.”

“No, no,” she groaned, “we must not sleep. Come, Willie—come—we will go. I can walk now, indeed I can!”

Again that fearful struggle—that clinging to life that gives unnatural strength to the weakest frame; but it was all in vain—once more she fell back, and this time she knew that it was approaching death.

After that there were but few words spoken— they were beyond complaints.

“Mamma!” said the boy again, “I’m sleepy now—very sleepy!” and this time she scarcely comprehended the horror in his words.

There was a jingle of bells in the distance, but Margaret did not heed, though they startled the boy from his stupor.

“The bells, mamma, the bells!”

A sleigh whirled swiftly in sight, coming from the opposite direction, and paused before the house. <A gentleman sprang out, and ran up the steps, knocking impatiently at the door, but there was only a hollow echo in response.

“It’s for us!” oried the boy, trying to rise, but his numbed limbe would scarcely support him, and he could only drag himself feebly along; “Here we are, sir, if you want us—mamma, baby, and I!’’

The man turned quickly at the voice, and hastened toward the child, catching him up in a close embrace.

“It’s papal” he exclaimed, “it’s papa!”

He pointed to the spot where Margaret was lying, and their preserver rushed toward them.

“Margaret—wife!” cried a voice that reached the sufferer.

“I am dreaming,” she muttered; “this is death!"

“No, no; it is real! See, Margaret, it is I— your husband!”

He clasped her in his arms and his kisses on her cold lips brought consciousness back.

“Arthur!” she whispered, “Arthur!” the chilled blood rushed to her heart again, dispelling the lethargy which had stolen over her; but the sudden reaction was too much for her weak frame, and she sank insensible in his arms. Mr. Hope called to the driver for aid, and they bore the three back to the house. An entrance was speedily effected, Margaret and her children laid upon the bed, while they lighted the fire, breaking up the furniture in the most pitiless way, and kindled a blaze, such as had not warmed the old hearthstone for years.

Mr. Hope ordered the man to return to the nearest tavern for food and wine. Very soon the driver came back.

Before the wife recovered from that long swoon, the children had been quieted, and the old kitchen wore an air almost of comfort.

When Margaret came to herself she was in a low chair by the fire, the little boy holding the ‘child at her feet, her husband’s arms about her waist, and his eyes fixed tenderly upon her face.

“Isn’t it a dream?” she cried, wildly; “tell me—do speak!’

“It is real, Margaret—lI have found you again —in a few moments you will leave this place forever. Oh, Margaret, how could you doubt me so cruelly?”

Sitting in the firelight he told his tale, and Margaret clung to him in mingled love and seif- reproach.

“And you forgive me?’’ she said.

“It was not your fault,” he answered, “nor mine—we have suffered for the errors of those who gyided our early youth—let us take warn- ing lest we likewise peril the happiness of these little ones.”

So the warmth stole back to Margaret’s heart, and the light to her soul—the unwavering day of perfect trust and love which could never again be dimmed.

THE FAIRY RING OF HOME.

BY MISS ELIZABETH MILLER.  Oh! sigh not for the lofty halls, Where wealth and splendor reign; For statued niche, or frescoed wails, Or fashion’s lordly train: Though oft for gentle kindness sake, We bid those gay ones come, They often break, but never make The fairy ring of home!

Though low the cottage walls may be, Thy hopes may further fly; And unto thine and unto thee The heavens may be as nigh. And well ‘twill be, if hearts that love, Crowd every nook and room, So from such love, thou ne’er mayst rove, This fairy ring of home!


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/115

Rh diversity of opinion concerning the Deity, as to His essence or nature. For some affirm Him to be fire, and some spirit, and some water, while others say that He is earth. And each of the elements labours under some deficiency, and one is worsted by the other. To the wise men of the world, this, however, has occurred, which is obvious to persons possessing intelligence; [I mean] that, beholding the stupendous works of creation, they were confused respecting the substance of existing things, supposing that these were too vast to admit of deriving generation from another, and at the same time [asserting] that neither the universe itself is God. As far as theology was concerned, they declared, however, a single cause for things that fall under the cognizance of vision, each supposing the cause which he adjudged the most reasonable; and so, when gazing on the objects made by God, and on those which are the most insignificant in comparison with His overpowering majesty, not, however, being able to extend the mind to the magnitude of God as He really is, they deified these [works of the external world].

But the Persians, supposing that they had penetrated more within the confines of the truth, asserted that the Deity is luminous, a light contained in air. The Babylonians, however, affirmed that the Deity is dark, which very opinion also appears the consequence of the other; for day follows night, and night day. Do not the Egyptians, however, who suppose themselves more ancient than all, speak of the power of the Deity? [This power they estimate by] calculating these intervals of the parts [of the zodiac; and, as if] by a most


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/30

 BEAUTIES BY

AND BEAUTY.

HOLYOKI.

MBHITABLE.

So the dream is ended, judge!”

‘What dream?”

“Yours.”

“Ah, forgive me! These perplexing cases draw us, unconsciously, into habits of abstrac- tion.”

“Can you look in my eyes and declare you were dreaming of a case at law!”

‘Let me try. I’! suppose you a widow, with eight small children, and an estate to be ad- ministered. The dear departed never deluded you. I give it up!—I was dreaming of love.”

‘Love? A Judge of Probate—married these fifteen years?”

“Yet not so antiquated—not unfitted yet for life’s delight, my cousin! Lizzie, go ask your mother if my valise will be ready within an hour. She may need your assistance.”

As his daughter left the apartment, Judge Wilson looked at her thoughtfully,

“Lizzie is growing up a fine girl—she will be beautiful, notwithstanding her mother——”

“Oh, Harry!—Susan is such a dear, bright, genial, self-forgetful soul.’

“Go on forever adding epithet to epithet, and you cannot overpraise her; yet my wife is not handsome—never was; that nose-——”

‘‘Makes the heaviest shadow in your lot, I do believe. Will you never outgrow your boyish devotion to beauty?”

“We do not outgrow our tastes, cousin; we only learn to distinguish between genera and species, names and things; and this brings me back to my dream. Did I ever tell you how I chanced to marry Susan Gladstone?”

‘‘No, I supposed in my simplicity you married her because she was willing to accept you.”

‘“‘Touchy as ever on the woman question. Let me relate, then, how one of the high celestial- haif of humankind was led to smile on me.”

‘‘That is more modest.”

“In my youth I was in love with every pretty face, high and low, white and brown—every phase of prettiness attracted me—you smile— you remember it. There were few young men in our town of Milford.”

‘‘Few so attractive as Harry Wilson: that is, so handsome, obliging, agreeable, so idle, care- less, altogether suited for a ladies’ man.”

Good,—qualify! There were but one or two of my eet, and it is no boast to say I excelled them; so I was like a bee in a pot of honey, emothered with sweets, and, at last sated. I was but a briefiess barrister all this while, poor as well as fickle, and the thought of marriage, had it once entered my head, would have been dismissed as insane. So, at least, I said to my- self now and then; you know thoughts enter eur head sometimes, and our hearts, whose presence we do not acknowledge: they should be dismissed, must be, when fairly detected; but oh, they are precious |

‘*One day, your brother George—it was about the time of his ordination and marriage—under- took to exercise his skill in sermonizing on my luckless self. His firstly, wae my idle, aimless life, you may be sure; his secondly, my oppor- tunities, capacities, all thet—his words have proved prophetic, more than I anticipated; his thirdly, was the influence of women; fourth, the peace and bliss of married life; fifth, the joy of home, and so on, to ninth and nineteenthly. I laughed, contradicted, argued, and believed. I had felt it all before, but not so deeply. I now went home to meditate.

‘¢How different things are as our moods change! New and marvellous meanings attach themselves to familiar objects—we discern a meaning where once there was only a form. I was in Boston with the bridal party, and in leav- ing George's Hotel that evening, looked up at the houses all alike, all blocked together, and for the first time thought of them as homes. Did you ever allow that fancy to run wild in some strange city, or street? Bright romances and mournful tragedies I wove, and the tragedies all proceeded from aimless, unmated existence.

‘‘fo marry either of the Milford girls was not possible, I liked them all too well, should be thinking sometimes that the wrong one accepted me. I would make a choice from among my city friends; there was little Eudora Stanmore, a pet of mine in her echool days—ns lovely and un- worldly as a vision. Stanmore, Stanmore. I darted into an apothecary’s, seized a directory : ‘Leonard Stanmore, house in Mt. Vernon street,’ that was strange. Evudora’s father had not been wealthy; ‘he was now,’ the clerk said, ‘hed made


text:
Page:Ante-Nicene Christian Library Vol 6.djvu/116

110 divine inspiration, they asserted that the Deity is an indivisible monad, both itself generating itself, and that out of this were formed all things. For this, say they, being unbegotten, produces the succeeding numbers; for instance, the monad, superadded into itself, generates the duad; and in like manner, when superadded [into duad, triad, and so forth], produces the triad and tetrad, up to the decade, which is the beginning and end of numbers. Wherefore it is that the first and tenth monad is generated, on account of the decade being equipollent, and being reckoned for a monad, and [because] this multiplied ten times will become a hundred, and again becomes a monad, and the hundred multiplied ten times will produce a thousand, and this will be a monad. In this manner also the thousand multiplied ten times make up the full sum of a myriad; in like manner will it be a monad. But by a comparison of indivisible quantities, the kindred numbers of the monad comprehend 3, 5, 7, 9.

There is also, however, a more natural relation of a different number to the monad, according to the arrangement of the orbit of six days' duration, [that is], of the duad, according to the position and division of even numbers. But the kindred number is 4 and 8. These, however, taking from the monad of the numbers an idea of virtue, progressed up to the four elements: [I allude], of course, to spirit, and fire, and water, and earth. And out of these having made the world,


text:
Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/6

 If desiring to change the given name or secondary name, a person who already has a given name or secondary name shall make an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration. When the local registrar finds that the new given name or secondary name according to the application is not contrary to this Act, he shall grant the application and issue a certificate indicating the change.

If desiring to create a new family name, a person who already has a family name shall make an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration, and the provisions of paragraph 2 and paragraph 3 of section 9 shall apply mutatis mutandis.

In the event that a local registrar gives an order denying the registration of a family name, the applicant for the registration of the family name has the right to appeal the order of the local registrar to the Minister within thirty days from the day he learns of the order. The appeal shall be filed with the local registrar.

The ruling of the Minister shall be final.

Whoever wishes to use a royally conferred name of his own, of his ascendant, or of his descendant as his family name shall make an application to the local registrar of the locality the household register of which contains his name according to the law on civil registration, and the local registrar shall further submit it to [the relevant officers] according to the order [of precedence] until it reaches the Central Registrar.

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/6


text: Index talk:Kail brose of auld Scotland (2).pdf


text:
Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/7

 When the Central Registrar finds it appropriate, he shall make a proposal to the Minister that the matter be brought before [the King]. Once the royal permission has been obtained, the local registrar shall accept to register the family name and issue a certificate indicating the registration of the family name to the applicant.

The Minister of Interior shall be in charge of the execution of this Act and shall have the power to appoint registrars and issue ministerial regulations designating fees not exceeding the rate at the end of this Act and designating other matters for the execution of this Act.

Those ministerial regulations shall come into force upon publication in the Royal Gazette.

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/7


text: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/8

title: Page:พรบ ชื่อบุคคล ๒๕๐๕ (๑).pdf/8


text:
Consolidated Appropriations Act, 2005/Division B/Title IX

{{SECTION|SEC. 901.|SEC. 901.}} SHORT TITLE.

 * This title may be cited as the "Oceans and Human Health Act".

{{SECTION|SEC. 902.|SEC. 902.}} INTERAGENCY OCEANS AND HUMAN HEALTH RESEARCH PROGRAM.

 * (a) COORDINATION—The President, through the National Science and Technology Council, shall coordinate and support a national research program to improve understanding of the role of the oceans in human health.

 * (b) IMPLEMENTATION PLAN—Within 1 year after the date of enactment of this Act, the National Science and Technology Council, through the Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy shall develop and submit to the Congress a plan for coordinated Federal activities under the program. Nothing in this subsection is intended to duplicate or supersede the activities of the Inter-Agency Task Force on Harmful Algal Blooms and Hypoxia established under section 603 of the Harmful Algal Bloom and Hypoxia Research and Control Act of 1998 (16 U.S.C. 1451 note). In developing the plan, the Committee will consult with the Inter-Agency Task Force on Harmful Algal Blooms and Hypoxia. Such plan will build on and complement the ongoing activities of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the National Science Foundation, and other departments and agencies and shall—

 * (1) establish, for the 10-year period beginning in the year it is submitted, the goals and priorities for Federal research which most effectively advance scientific understanding of the connections between the oceans and human health, provide usable information for the prediction of marine-related public health problems and use the biological potential of the oceans for development of new treatments of human diseases and a greater understanding of human biology;

 * (2) describe specific activities required to achieve such goals and priorities, including the funding of competitive research grants, ocean and coastal observations, training and support for scientists, and participation in international research efforts;

 * (3) identify and address, as appropriate, relevant programs and activities of the Federal agencies and departments that would contribute to the program;

 * (4) identify alternatives for preventive unnecessary duplication of effort among Federal agencies and departments with respect to the program;

 * (5) consider and use, as appropriate, reports and studies conducted by Federal agencies and departments, the National Research Council, the Ocean Research Advisory Panel, the Commission on Ocean Policy and other expert scientific bodies;

 * (6) make recommendations for the coordination of program activities with ocean and human health-related activities of other national and international organizations; and

 * (7) estimate Federal funding for research activities to be conducted under the program.

 * (c) PROGRAM SCOPE—The program may include the following activities related to the role of oceans in human health:

 * (1) Interdisciplinary research among the ocean and medical sciences, and coordinated research and activities to improve understanding of processes within the ocean that may affect human health and to explore the potential contribution of marine organisms to medicine and research, including—
 * (A) vector- and water-borne diseases of humans and marine organisms, including marine mammals and fish;
 * (B) harmful algal blooms and hypoxia (through the Inter-Agency Task Force on Harmful Algal Blooms and Hypoxia);
 * (C) marine-derived pharmaceuticals;
 * (D) marine organisms as models for biomedical research and as indicators of marine environmental health;
 * (E) marine environmental microbiology;
 * (F) bioaccumulative and endocrine-disrupting chemical contaminants; and
 * (G) predictive models based on indicators of marine environmental health or public health threats.

 * (2) Coordination with the National Ocean Research Leadership Council (10 U.S.C. 7902(a)) to ensure that any integrated ocean and coastal monitoring system provides information necessary to monitor and reduce marine public health problems including health-related data on biological populations and detection of contaminants in marine waters and seafood.

 * (3) Development through partnerships among Federal agencies, States, academic institutions, or non-profit research organizations of new technologies and approaches for detecting and reducing hazards to human health from ocean sources and to strengthen understanding of the value of marine biodiversity to biomedicine, including—
 * (A) genomics and proteomics to develop genetic and immunological detection approaches and predictive tools and to discover new biomedical resources;
 * (B) biomaterials and bioengineering;
 * (C) in situ and remote sensors used to detect, quantify, and predict the presence and spread of contaminants in marine waters and organisms and to identify new genetic resources for biomedical purposes;
 * (D) techniques for supplying marine resources, including chemical synthesis, culturing and aquaculturing marine organisms, new fermentation methods and recombinant techniques; and
 * (E) adaptation of equipment and technologies from human health fields.

 * (4) Support for scholars, trainees and education opportunities that encourage an interdisciplinary and international approach to exploring the diversity of life in the oceans.

 * (d) ANNUAL REPORT—Beginning with the first year occurring more than 24 months after the date of enactment of this Act, the National Science and Technology Council, through the Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy shall prepare and submit to the President and the Congress not later than January 31st of each year an annual report on the activities conducted pursuant to this title during the preceding fiscal year, including—
 * (1) a summary of the achievements of Federal oceans and human health research, including Federally supported external research, during the preceding fiscal year;
 * (2) an analysis of the progress made toward achieving the goals and objectives of the plan developed under subsection (b), including identification of trends and emerging trends;
 * (3) a copy or summary of the plan and any changes made in the plan;
 * (4) a summary of agency budgets for oceans and human health a activities for the preceding fiscal year; and
 * (5) any recommendations regarding additional action or legislation that may be required to assist in achieving the purposes of that title.

{{SECTION|SEC. 903.|SEC. 903.}} NATIONAL OCEANIC AND ATMOSPHERIC ADMINISTRATION OCEANS AND HUMAN HEALTH INITIATIVE.

 * (a) ESTABLISHMENT—As part of the interagency oceans and human health research program, the Secretary of Commerce is authorized to establish an Oceans and Human Health Initiative to coordinate and implement research and activities of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration related to the role of the oceans, the coasts, and the Great Lakes in human health. In carrying out this section, the Secretary shall consult with other Federal agencies conducting integrated oceans and human health research and research in related areas, including the National Science Foundation. The Oceans and Human Health Initiative is authorized to provide support for:
 * (1) centralized programs and research coordination;
 * (2) an advisory panel;
 * (3) one or more National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration national centers of excellence;
 * (4) research grants; and
 * (5) distinguished scholars and traineeships.

 * (b) ADVISORY PANEL—The Secretary is authorized to establish an oceans and human health advisory panel to assist in the development and implementation of the Oceans and Human Health Initiative. Membership of the advisory group shall provide for balanced representation of individuals with multi-disciplinary expertise in the marine and biomedical sciences. The Federal Advisory Committee Act (5 U.S.C. App.) shall not apply to the oceans and human health advisory panel.

 * (c) NATIONAL CENTERS—
 * (1) The Secretary is authorized to identify and provide financial support through a competitive process to develop, within the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, for one or more centers of excellence that strengthen the capabilities of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to carry out its programs and activities related to the oceans' role in human health.
 * (2) The centers shall focus on areas related to agency missions, including use of marine organisms as indicators for marine environmental health, ocean pollutants, marine toxins and pathogens, harmful algal blooms, hypoxia, seafood testing, identification of marine mammals, and on disciplines including marine genomics, marine environmental microbiology, ecological chemistry and conservation medicine.
 * (3) In selecting centers for funding, the Secretary will give priority to proposals with strong interdisciplinary scientific merit that encourage educational opportunities and provide for effective partnerships among the Administration, other Federal entities, State, academic, non-profit research organizations, medical, and industry participants.

 * (d) EXTRAMURAL RESEARCH GRANTS—
 * (1) The Secretary is authorized to provide grants of financial assistance to the scientific community for critical research and projects that explore the relationship between the oceans and human health and that complement or strengthen programs and activities of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration related to the ocean's role in human health. Officers and employees of Federal agencies may collaborate with, and participate in, such research and projects to the extent requested by the grant recipient. The Secretary shall consult with the oceans and human health advisory panel established under subsection (b) and may work cooperatively with other agencies participating in the interagency program to establish joint criteria for such research and projects.
 * (2) Grants under this subsection shall be awarded through a competitive peer-reviewed, merit-based process that may be conducted jointly with other agencies participating in the inter-agency program.

 * (e) TRAINEESHIPS—The Secretary of Commerce is authorized to establish a program to provide traineeships, training, and experience to pre-doctoral and post-doctoral students and to scientists at the beginning of their careers who are interested in the oceans in human health research conducted under the NOAA initiative.

{{SECTION|SEC. 904.|SEC. 904.}} PUBLIC INFORMATION AND OUTREACH.

 * (a) IN GENERAL—The Secretary of Commerce, in consultation with other Federal agencies, and in cooperation with the National Sea Grant program, shall design and implement a program to disseminate information developed under the NOAA Oceans and Human Health Initiative, including research, assessments, and findings regarding the relationship between oceans and human health, on both a regional and national scale. The information, particularly with respect to potential health risks, shall be made available in a timely manner to appropriate Federal or State agencies, involved industries, and other interested parties through a variety of means, including through the Internet.

 * (b) REPORT—As part of this program, the Secretary shall submit to Congress an annual report reviewing the results of the research, assessments, and findings developed under the NOAA Oceans and Human Health Initiative, as well as recommendations for improving or expanding the program.

{{SECTION|SEC. 905.|SEC. 905.}} AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS.

 * There are authorized to be appropriated to the Secretary of Commerce to carry out the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Oceans and Human Health Initiative, $60,000,000 for fiscal years 2005 through 2008. Not less than 50 percent of the amounts appropriated to carry out the initiative shall be utilized in each fiscal year to support the extramural grant and traineeship programs of the Initiative.

This division may be cited as the "Departments of Commerce, Justice, and State, the Judiciary, and Related Agencies Appropriations Act, 2005".


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/31

 32 “ ”

BEAUTIES AND BEAUTY.

large fortune in leather, lived in fine style.’ I did not care, the sweet girl was not spoilable. I found the mansion. ‘Miss Eudora,’ the servant said, ‘was out; no, ill—indisposed.’ I did not like his tone, he was lying, I thought; but vent back to my lonely room.

“I called again, ‘Was it Mr. Wilson? Yes, she was in. I could walk to the parlor.’ There ie such a difference in houses. As Dr. P-—— observed, the other day, there are some, inte which, if you lift the roof off you cannot force the light, and air, and sunshine; if you crowd them with people, you cannot make any two feel near each other; if you make them resound with voices and clang of instruments, you cannot have mirth or music. Other houses there are, very bare of luxuries, the inmates lead laborious lives, with cares, and losses, and sorrows falling thick upon them; yet they are free and content, glad and thankful—the sunshine that pierces their little window falls straight into a loving, rejoicing heart—the song of bird, or ripple of brook, their grateful spirits seize, and echo, and mag- bify, till their lives are filled, and overflow with harmonies. Now, the home of Eudora Stanmore was magnificent, but it wanted the home-charm. There seemed a mildew in the air, the mirrors did not look as if they had ever reflected happy faces, all was cold and calm as a cathedral. But t was in the state-parlor I waited, and the chilly November weather might have added to this gioom. She appeared, the school-girl, grown a woman, a city belle, yet fascinating as ever, and far lovelier. I did not like the elaborateness of her dress, the thin, flounced, furbelowed fabric, evidently just assumed, and in which she shivered ws she entered the gloomy room. ‘She was glad to see me,’ she said; ‘wasn’t I glad to see her so improved?’ her eyes said, and there was some- thing fascinating in the question. She conversed with a fluency and appropriatene„“ss of which I had not supposed her capable, of old times and new, of country and city life, of city pleasures, theatre, opera, parties, walks, rides, drives; and when I turned to city duties, met me there again, with topics of philanthropy, taste, science, art: even passing questions of politics and law this young girl handled with consum- mate skill.

“But I felt that same mildew about her speech, it was learnt for an occasion and retailed for display, it had not the sweet spontaneousness of her talk in other days. We did not seem open- ng our minds to each other, but playing at a game with printed cards; yet, I thought this rarely a defect of education, I should not wish her perfect, I could mend allin time. She smiled on me, that was plain; I could love her, oh, to distraction!

“I went a third time, still on a cold November day. A child was on the door step. She said, ‘Sister Eudora was et home, ob, yes, I could go in. She would lead me—they had such a famous boudoir, and Dora was having seven dresses cut. I needn’t wait, she knew Dora would see me, she had heard her tell ber mamma as much.’

“I followed, wondering how often this seven- fold replenishment, of dress must occur along the future, in order to keep my beauty beautiful.

“I had blundered in following the child—it was all wrong, unpardonable, but I stood at the boudoir door as one spell-bound; such a chaos of disorder, and, yes, dirt, as overspread the fine tapestry carpet! Two sewing-women sat among chests and trunks pulled at all possible angles; and open drawers and boxes, heaps of cloth, rib- bon, papers, flowers—so far I could have for- given; but on a rug directly in front of the fire, amidst rubbish of which she made a part, gat my divine Eudora, pale and peevish, her hair braided away from her forehead in most unbe- coming fashion, and eyes red from the last night’s dissipation. Her dress was a silk, all frilled along the skirt, but soiled, and minas one sleeve, while remains of the other lingered—cut off slant- wise at her elbow—lI have a good memory. Some visions make a very dazzling, deep impression. Cousin, I left her there, reading a novel, and have never seen her since. The child, with a child’s quick instinct, saw that we were wrong, and led me away whispering, ‘Don’t ever, ever tell of it, sister would be so angry, she would throw # candlestick at me as she did at Nora when’—I hushed her, I had enough of family secrets.

“That love went out like a candle in my heart. Winning Eudora, I should have won beauty at the expense of everything beautiful in life—yes, that love went out like a candle. I thought of my pleasant bachelor home, my own neat room with stocks of cigar-boxes, the India matting half covered by the heavy rug, of the books and easy chair, and the fire-place wide enough for me, and the pleasant confusion of papers, tools, smoking-cap, boot-jack—a hundred things on which I could lay my hand at an instant’s thought. I resolved to return to Milford.

“One last call I had to make: it was on an old friend. You smile, ay, it was on Susan Gladstone, my best wife! She had grown homely who was never beautiful; she had a care-worn look for her family were poor, and struggling to re- tain a fine old mansion in the suburbs. But I could not slight an old acquaintance in adver-


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/32

r0 ILL LUCK. sity; and set forth for Broadhall one evening, the coldest, dreariest yet: it had rained for three days, the roads were muddy, doors creaked, gates clung together, lights burnt dimly, oh, it was dolorous!

“I did not wait, nor was I led into a state-parlor at the Gladstones, nor did I find splendor and company-manners. The family were assembled in the good old sitting-room, at table, secretary, and fireside; big logs were blazing in the chimney, and lent their glow to the furniture, and curtains of red moreen, or of bright new ehints. Many ornaments were about the room, all cheap or of home manufacture: the good engravings on the walis were framed in paper; the books were on shelves of pine adorned with leather work, some vases were filled with green leaves and berries, a few flowers stood in one— and a fine large pot of English Ivy draperied a corner of the apartment with its fresh sprays of green; the pot I observed was a grape-jar, painted to imitate an Etruscan vase. “Mr. Gladstone, the picture of happy old age, eat by his fireside in a chair of his children’s covering, in slippers of their working; while Sue, at the table, was writing off long lists of names from hie bank-books, and filling out circulars. Her mother was knitting beside her, Fred was studying his lesson, Fanny dressing a doll; Kate sat at the secretary puzzling overs composition, Frank was kneeling on the hearth-rug, composing—s kite. I can see them all now! Fred is a lawyer, Fan a wife, Kate an authoress, Prank a sea captain; but I see them all, and Sue, with her big noee, her dear, good face, in their midst, merry and genial and self-oblivious; simple in manners, neat in dress, attentive, yet not absorbed in her work. She remembered me at once, with the old frankness expressed her pleaeure at meeting, introduced me to her kindred, made me a place by the fireside—one, thank God! I have never lost—and then without farther apology promised to talk with me soon, when her work should be done, and returned to the writing, yet found time for pleasant words in every pause of conversation, found time to take up her mother’s stitches if they dropped, to help Fred in his sum, to bend over poor Kate, whom. the composition sorely puzzled, and clear away her difficulty by a sensible word or two, or a question or two. Then she camo to the fire, and while conversing with me cut colored papers for Frank, and gave most judicious advice with regard to the construction of his kite.

“No, cousin, they did not impose upon Sue's good-nature: it was her way to help every one, to make every one feel dependent on her. I’m not ashamed to tell you that I cannot take a journey, or dress, or entertain visitors, or say my prayers without her assistance. What should I do if she died?—become another man, with humbler endowments, less power, less enjoyment. She keeps my heart calm and my brain clear; it is her sweet way of asserting woman’s right, she works through all others, but she works right bravely and well.

“My story is ended. Another lamp was kindied that evening, and all the winds of earth have not extinguished, nor made its light wane yet. I saw in vision e beautiful home, a beautiful life, and dear Sue has helped me find them both. I cannot think of her as unlovely, for wherever she goes she bears a blessed, peaceful, genial atmosphere: in her presence beauty is sure to look more beautiful, and wit to flow more freely, and music to sound more sweet, and laughter has a merrier ring, and the very lamps burn brighter when she comes! I was dreaming of love, of home-joys, home-content. I tell you, cousin, these true homes are a type and foretaste of heaven, and beauty is but an outward expression of that which grows here constantly, a breathing life!

“The valise ready so soon? But I need not go for half an hour yet. Come, Sue, and help us with our metaphysics.

“Physics instead! Who except yourself would have thought of that cough mixture? Oh, talk of Florence Nightingale—all honor to her!—but I believe there are thousands of Florence Nightingales scattered in earthly homes, unrecognized by strangers, but blessed by their own: in many, many a home-Scutari their shadow is kissed as they pass!”

TO ILL

LUCK.

BY FRANCES HENRIETTA SHEFFIELD.  Ill luck, thou molt abused sprite, I pledge thee in red wine tonight, For never friend my eyes have seen That hath so faithful to me been.

Go where I will I cannot dodge thee, Rest where I may I still must lodge thee, Thou lovest me so well, good faith, I know we shall not part till death.


text:
Page:Manual of the New Zealand Flora.djvu/554

514 The V. Colensoi of the Handbook, as already stated, was based upon a mixture consisting of specimens collected on the Ruahine Mountains by Colenso, on V. Menziesii, and two or three other species. If the name is to be retained at all, it should clearly be restricted to Colenso's plant, which Mr. N. E. Brown informs me is identical with that subsequently described by Colenso under the name of V. Hillii. It can be distinguished by the small size, glaucous leaves, slender simple or sparingly branched racemes, narrow acute calyx-segments, and short corolla-tube. The V. Colensoi of the Botanical Magazine (t. 7296) is quite a different plant, but I have seen no specimens, and it does not seem to be known except in cultivation in England.

24. V. rigidula, Cheesem. n. sp.—A small much-branched erect perfectly glabrous shrub 6–24 in. high, rarely more; branches stout, erect, scarred, almost black, leafy at the tips. Leaves close-set, almost imbricating, suberect or rarely spreading, petiolate, ½–¾ in. long, ⅙–¼ in. broad, linear-oblong or narrow obovate-oblong, acute or subacute, very thick and coriaceous, rigid, dark-green and concave above, glaucous and keeled by the thick and prominent midrib beneath; margins thickened, entire. Racemes or spikes 2–4 near the tips of the branches, about equalling the leaves, usually branched, dense-flowered; rhachis stout, pubescent; pedicels wanting or the lower flowers very shortly stalked; bracts ovateoblong, obtuse, almost as long as the calyx. Flowers small, white, ⅕ in. diam. Calyx 4-partite; segments oblong, obtuse, ciliolate. Corolla-tube tubular, nearly twice as long as the calyx; limb rather short, not equalling the tube; lobes subequal, oblong, obtuse. Stamens slightly exceeding the corolla. Capsule small, ⅛–⅙ in. long, ovoid-oblong, acute or subacute, barely twice as long as the calyx.

25. V. rupicola, Cheesem. n. sp.—An erect sparingly branched shrub 1–4 ft. high; branches stout, erect or spreading, glabrous or the younger ones faintly bifariously pubescent. Leaves not very close-set, spreading, petiolate, ½–1 in. long, ¼–⅓ in. broad, linear-oblong or elliptic-oblong or linear-obovate, obtuse or subacute, gradually narrowed into the rather long petiole, flat or slightly concave, coriaceous, glaucous when fresh, quite entire, midrib prominent beneath. Racemes or spikes lateral or towards the tips of the branches, much exceeding the leaves, 1–2 in. long, peduncled, usually trichotomous, very rarely simple; rhachis stout, strict,


text:
Page:Manual of the New Zealand Flora.djvu/555

Veronica.] puberulous or almost glabrate; pedicels wanting or the lower flowers alone shortly stalked; bracts oblong-ovate, obtuse, large, often exceeding the calyx. Flowers crowded on the branches of the raceme, about ¼ in. diam. Calyx 4-partite; segments oblong, obtuse, with pale membranous ciliolate margins. Corollatube about half as long again as the calyx; limb equalling the tube or nearly so; lobes oblong-ovate, obtuse or subacute. Capsule broadly oblong, obtuse or subacute, about ¼ in. long, not twice the length of the calyx.

26. V. lævis, Benth. in D.C. Prodr. x. 461.—A small perfectly glabrous densely branched shrub 1–5 ft. high; branches stout, erect, densely leafy above, below ringed with the scars of the fallen leaves; bark black. Leaves decussate, close-set, erect and appressed, rarely further apart and spreading, ⅓–⅔ in. long, ⅕–⅓ in. broad, ovate-oblong or obovate-oblong, obtuse or acute or apiculate, abruptly narrowed into a short thick petiole, very thick and coriaceous, rigid, concave above, keeled at the back; midrib stout, prominent beneath, usually excurrent at the tip; margins entire. Racemes 2–4 near the ends of the branchlets, corymbosely branched, rarely simple, ¾–1½ in. long, dense-flowered; rhachis stout, pubescent; bracts small, oblong-ovate, coriaceous, usually exceeding the lower pedicels. Flowers white, ⅕–¼ in. diam. Calyx deeply 4-partite; segments oblong or oblong-ovate, obtuse. Corolla-tube rather broad, less than twice as long as the calyx; segments oblong or oblong-ovate, obtuse. Capsule ovate or ovate-oblong, acute, about twice as long as the calyx.—''Hook. f. Fl. Nov. Zel. i. 194; Handb. N.Z. Fl. 209; Armstr. in Trans. N.Z. Inst.'' xiii. (1881) 351. (?)V. azurea, Col. in Trans. N.Z. Inst. xxxi. (1899) 277.

Mount Hikurangi, Adams and Petrie! Mount Egmont, T.F.C. Tonagariro, Bidwill, Capt. G. Mair! Ruapehu, ''H. Tryon! H. Hill! Ruahine Mountains, Colenso! H. Hill! A. Hamilton! Tararua Mountains, Buchanan! Marlborough—Mount Duppa, Macmahon!'' 2500–5000 ft. December–February.

The typical state of this is distinguished by the close-set imbricating and more or less appressed leaves, which are keeled at the back, but not truncate or subcordate at the base as in V. buxifolia, and by the usually corymbosely branched racemes. This latter peculiarity, Mr. N. E. Brown assures me, is well shown by the type specimens at Kew. It has been recorded from many districts in the South Island, from Nelson to Otago, but I have not seen any specimens that satisfactorily match those from the North Island. Most are referable to


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/33

 THE

OLD

STONE

MANSION.

BY CHARLES J. PETERSON, AUTHOR OF “THE VALLEY FARM,” ‘‘MABEL,” ‘KATE AYLESFORD,” AC.

[Entered according to Act of Congress. in the year 1859, by Charles J. Peterson. in the Clerk's Olﬁce of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.]

CHAPTER I.

“Margaret,” said my mother, feebly.

I glided to her bedside joyfully, for she had slept so long I had begun to be frightened. I kissed her, arranged the bed-clothes, and softly smoothed her hair.

She looked up at me with a wan smile. I remember that wasted, yet beautiful face as if this had happened but yesterday.

“Does it snow yet?” she said.

I stepped to the window. The storm, which had raged all day and during moat of the preceding night, had subsided. The sun was just setting, and the snow-bankes, which had drifted, here and there, against the houses on the opposite side of the street, were tinged with a delicate rose-color. A few flakes, blown from the roofs, floated lazily down. The shouts of the boys, playing snow-ball, came to the ear with a muffled sound.

“It is clear, mamma,” I answered, “and so pretty. I hear sleigh-bells.” And I did not turn my head, but waited, child-like, to see the sleigh, for I was but six years old.

“Thank God!” she answered, with a sigh of relief. “He will surely come now.”

Her tone made me look quickly around. How dark and close the room appeared!

“Who will come, mamma?” I asked.

She did not answer. She did not even raise. her eyes. She saw something on the bed-quilt apparently, which she tried vainly to pick off.

“Mamma!” I said, taking her hand, with a feeling of vague alarm.

She looked at me like one in a dream. Slowly her wandering faculties seemed to come back.

“You are cold,” she said.

I was both cold and hungry. I had eaten nothing all day, nor had there been any fire. I gave one quick glance toward the dead ashes in the stove, to see if they were visible from her pillow; and finding they were not, answered, evasively, with the forethought which care and sorrow had already taught me,

“I feel cold to you, because you have a fever.”

“Yes! I must have had fever all day, to have slept. I did. I am very thirsty now. Won't you take the pitcher and bring me some fresh water from the pump?”

At aay other time I would have ebrunk from the task. I dreaded the long, dark entry of the strange boarding-house, and the rude boys in the street. Bust now I rose with alacrity.

“Stay, darling,” she said, ae I was about to go. I approached the bed-side. She took my head feebly in ber hands, drew my face toward her, kissed me, held me a little off, and earnestly regarded me. Her mouth began to quiver: the tears gathered in her eyes.

“Poor little lamb!” she said. Then, lifting her dimmed sight to the ceiling, she murmured, “Father in heaven, protect my orphaned child!”

It took me some time to reach the pump, for I had to break a path through the snow, no easy task for my tender feet. I was a long while, afterward, in filling my pitcher, for the pump worked with difficulty. I saw a big, ill-looking boy standing on the opposite corner, working up a snow-ball vigorously in his hands and eyeing me menacingly. At last the pitcher was filled, and I stooped to raise it. At that moment, whis! came the snow-ball, as hard as ice, hitting me on the wrist. I fell, and the pitcher, striking the pump, was broken into pieces.

The pain in my wrist was so acute, that I believed it was broken. But rage and indignation was, nevertheless, my first impulse. “Oh! if I was a man,” I said to myself, as I struggled up, half smothered with snow. I heard a jeering laugh. But catching sight of the broken pitcher, I remembered it was the only one we had; I thought of my mother’s thirat; and at that thought I burst into tears.

“Boo—hoo—hoo,” mocked the boy, flinging another snow-ball, which hit me on the cheek.

He stopped suddenly. I heard a heavy blow. I looked toward him. He was struggling up out of a snow-drift, while another lad, about the same size, but of a very different aspect, was standing over him, roiling up his sleeves, as boys do when about to fight. The mute challenge, however, was not accepted. The bully got up, spluttering and cursing; but one look at his antagonist was sufficient; he burst into a


text:
Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/34

 THE OLD STONE MANBION.

howl, as if he was nearly killed, and ran off homeward.

The lad, who had thus interfered in my behalf, gated after him contemptuously, for an instant, and then crossed over to where I stood. He was dressed neatly, even elegantly, and had an easy, eelf-possessed manner, very different from that of the boys of the poor suburb where we lived. fwo great, dark eyes, eloquent with sympatby, jooked down on me as he took my hand, and asked if I was hurt. I stammered something about my wrist being broken. He said, ‘Oh! I guess not,” cheerfully. There was such manli- sess and courage in his carriage and looks, that I felt reassured immediately.

All at once, however, I remembered the broken pitcher, and began to cry again. He seemed passied for a moment, but then brightened up.

“Ah! I see,” was oll he said. ‘Wait a minute,” and before I knew what he meant, he darted into a shop near by, reappeared imme- diately with a new pitcher, filled it with two or three quick strokes at the pump, took my hand, end bade me cheerily show him the way home. i was all done in less time than I have taken to aarrate it. Before I recovered from my bewil- derment, he had touched his cap and disap- peared; and I was standing alone, in the cold, serrow, dark hall.

It was only for a moment. Remembering my mother, I hurried up stairs, reaching our room door out of breath.

I had expected to hear my mother ask me the tause of my delay. But she did not. I crossed le the foot of the bed, and poured out a giass of Water: yet still she was silent. She did not even look toward me. Though it was now quite dark ia the chamber, I could see her white face. It seemed ao ghastly, a sudden terror seized me. I dared not speak, nor advance, but stood, with the tumbler shaking in my hand and the water spilling out. Still that same fixed, strange look! My terror, at last, became too great for silence.

“Mother!” I said; but below my breath.

No answer. The white face, still turned up- ward, remained immovable as ever.

‘‘Mother!”’ I shrieked, rushing to her side.

Still not an eyelid moved. She would never hear me again in this world. I realized that she was dead, though I now bebeld death for the frst time. I threw myself on the body, wildly ealling on her to wake up, kissing her, imploring her not to die, frantically uttering shriek on shriek, till I lost all consciousness.

The next few days are almost a blank in my recollection. Looking back at this distance of time, they seem enveloped in a sort of haze. An unutterable sorrow is almost ali that I can re- call. Yet I remember, in a dreamy way, waking up to find our fellow lodgers gathered arcund me; I remember being torn from my mother, and sleeping with a stranger, who nevertheless wae very kind to me; I remember, afterward, the next day, I suppose, a big, red-faced, im- portant personage, with huge gold seals that impressed me with a high idea of his import- ance, chucking me under the chin, saying he had come to take me away, bow that my mother was dead, and telling me, when I began to cry at this, that I ‘‘mustn’t mind it, it was better for her, poor thing, and for me.” I recollect, aleo, the darkened room where the coffin lay; the whispered conversations; the awe on every countenance; and the being lifted to take a last look on that dear face, which now I could hardly recognize, it was so cold and white. I have a faint memory, too, that I shrieked, clung to the coffin, and said I would not leave my mamma; and that afterward, I sobbed myself to sleep, orying, ‘‘Mamma, mamma, do come back to me, dear mamma.”

Then follows the recollection of a long jour- ney, in which the pompous gentleman acocom- panied me. At last, one day, we alighted at the door of a splendid mansion, in a greet eity, « city even larger than the one where I had live before. A biaze of lights almost blinded me, a we entered the hall. When I reeovered from my bewilderment, a richly dressed lady, holding a little girl by the hand, stood before me; and she and my traveling companion were looking at me and talking of me.

‘‘That is your aunt, Margaret,” I heard the gentleman say, ‘‘and this is your cousin, Geor- giana. She’s a poor, sickly-looking thing, isn’t she?’’ he added, turning to his wife.

Neither the lady, nor the little girl, offered to kisa me. The latter held by her mother’s gown, and when I would have approached, drew back as if either frightened or disgusted. My pride, for even then J had pride, was up in a moment. The coldness of my aunt, the aversion of my cousin, and the contempt of my uncle sunk into my heart, and embittered my life, not only for that evening, but for years afterward. God help your little ones, mother, if ever they become orphans!

That night I was put to bed in a lonely, cheer- less room, hastily made ready for me, away up at the top of the house. In my ascent to it, I passed the large, luxurious chamber, which my ‘aunt and uncle occupied, and where my cotsin slept in a pretty little crib by their bed-side. An errand called the maid, who had me in charge,