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 A NEW DIRECTION—FLEXIBLE RESPONSE perpetuated Headquarters Company, 5th Infantry Division, which had been inactivated in 1957. In the armored division, Combat Commands A, B, and C were redesignated as the 1st, 2d, and 3d Brigades.

When the Third U.S, Army activated the 197th Infantry Brigade at Fort Benning to support training at the Infantry Center, it consisted of a composite artillery battalion (105-mm. and 155-mm. howitzers and Honest Johns), an armor battalion, a mechanized infantry battalion, two infantry battalions, an engineer company, and a chemical platoon, but no support battalion. The strength of the brigade was approximately 3,500 men.

After the aborted Bay of Pigs invasion and rumors of Soviet assistance to Cuba, McNamara decided to bolster available Army forces in the Caribbean area. The Army replaced the battle group in the Canal Zone with the 193d Infantry Brigade, which was activated on 8 August 1962. Initially it consisted of only one infantry battalion and one airborne infantry battalion, but shortly after activation an artillery battery and an engineer company were added.

By mid-August 1962 the 1st Armored and 5th Infantry Divisions attained the approved readiness status for the strategic force, and the Army readjusted its divisions by releasing the reserve units three months early, Subsequently the National Guard's 32d Infantry Division and 49th Armored Division left federal service and reverted to state control, and the 100th Division (Training) also reverted to reserve status, closing the training center at Fort Chaffee.

In October 1962, less than three months after the 1st Armored Division had become part of the strategic force, the Army used it as part of an emergency assault force being assembled to counter the buildup of Soviet missiles in Cuba. For more immediate access to port facilities, the division moved from Fort Hood to Fort Stewart, Georgia, where it conducted a series of amphibious exercises. As tensions eased during the late fall, "Old Ironsides" returned to Fort Hood without conducting any active operations against Cuba.

When the Army put off reorganizing the remainder of the Regular Army divisions under ROAD until January 1963, the delay permitted the 1st Armored and 5th Infantry Divisions to evaluate the concept. General Decker reported to Secretary of the Army Cyrus R. Vance that "ROAD provides substantial improvements in command structure, organization flexibility, capability for sustained combat, tactical mobility (ground and air), balanced firepower (nuclear and non-nuclear), logistical support, and compatibility with Allied forces (particularly NATO)." The chief of staff added that commanders of the 1st Armored and 5th Infantry Divisions had not identified any major problems that would require changes in the general concept.

Decker saw advantages and disadvantages in the pending ROAD reorganization. A comparison between the ROAD infantry and mechanized infantry divisions with the augmented pentomic infantry division showed some significant gains for the new organization. With only a 2 percent increase in manpower strength, the ROAD organization exhibited a profound growth in combat power, which in some


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. Good morning, Don Rosendo.

. Good morning.

. A fine day, sir! If this weather only continues through the feria! Well, what will be it to-day, Don Rosendo? Beer? [Saluting the passers-by] Good morning, gentlemen. A fine day, eh? If we could only have this weather every fiesta! [To ] Did you say beer?

. No. Bring me coffee and toast.

. Coffee and toast? [Laughing] Diablo, Don Rosendo! What ever put such an idea in your head?

. Man! One must eat. After dressing the window since six o'clock in the morning…

. Busy times for us all, Don Rosendo. Do you open to-day?

. Only the window; this is a holiday.

. Yes, but in the middle of the feria! You will lose money. 123

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


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 308 weapons systems was over 200 percent. But the new divisions were going to be costly and the full implementation of ROAD would have to await the arrival of new equipment. Until then fixed-wing aircraft would have to be used in place of helicopters, and infantry battalions would substitute for mechanized infantry battalions until armored personnel carriers were available. Furthermore, because of insufficient personnel, the divisions would be maintained at less than ideal strength.

The Army Staff began planning for the ROAD reorganization during the summer of 1962. It set the combination of maneuver elements as follows: for the armored division, six tank and five mechanized infantry battalions; for the mechanized infantry division, three tank and seven mechanized infantry battalions; for the infantry division, two tank and eight infantry battalions; and for the airborne division, one assault gun (tank) and eight airborne infantry battalions. The planners anticipated difficulty in finding the men to fill the units because the authorized strength of the Regular Army was only 960,000. Decker recommended that Secretary of the Army Cyrus Vance seek Department of Defense approval for an increase in Army strength as well as the retention of 3,000 KATUSA personnel in both the 1st Cavalry and 7th Infantry Divisions stationed in Korea. If no increase could be obtained, then Decker recommended that divisions in the United States and Korea have fewer maneuver battalions than outlined in the plan.

Reorganization of the remaining divisions took place between January 1963 and May 1964 (Table 24), But, as feared, the Department of Defense decided not to seek an increase in the size of the Army, and the reorganization left the Army's divisions at reduced strength except for the units in Europe. Infantry, mechanized infantry, and armored divisions ranged between 14,000 and 16,000 men each, except for the 1st Cavalry and 7th Infantry Divisions, which were authorized about 12,000 men each plus their KATUSA personnel. In the airborne divisions, nine airborne infantry battalions and a tank battalion replaced the eight airborne infantry battalions and assault gun (tank) battalion, but the airborne tank battalion was allotted only experimental equipment, The 82d and 101st Airborne Divisions fielded about 13,500 men each. In Germany the airborne capability was moved from the 24th Infantry Division at Augsburg to the 8th Infantry Division at Bad Kreuznach, with one brigade containing all the airborne assets.

As the Regular Army completed the ROAD reorganization, the Army made further revisions in the division organizations. Headquarters and service batteries in all artillery battalions except for the Honest John unit were combined to save personnel. More important, the Davy Crocketts were restricted to infantry battalions, and the weapons were fo be issued only in response to specific instructions. The Army had debated the appropriate level at which to control nuclear weapons since their introduction, Like its predecessors, the Kennedy administration continued to stress political control of such weapons.


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. What of it? I cannot afford to offend the ladies. They have formed a society under the patronage of the bishop—you know the bishop has always been very partial to me?

. I know, sir. [Calling] Coffee and toast! Well, every man to his taste. Excuse me, a lady— [To a young woman who is passing] Won't you have something?… Oh! I see. A full basket?… Guests, eh?… Of course!… Well, if you won't… [Returning to ] Don Baldomero's housekeeper. A fine girl! They say she's the real mistress of the house; a mountaineer from Villaquejido—yes, sir. Don Baldomero has an eye for the ladies. If she is number one, number two for Doña O, although they tell me she was beautiful once, yes she was! But time flies. That girl and Don Baldomero—would you believe it?—just between us, don't say a word—she poisons her mistress's life. Yes, sir! What do you think of that? All I know is she comes in every morning to get an ice.

. You poison your ices.

. No, what an idea! Speaking of antidotes, did you read "The Memoirs of a Chief of Police. A Half Century of Crime"? An old poisoner, who always gave his victims something deadly in their coffee, which it was impossible to distinguish from the drink, until one day the chief of police got down to the bottom of his cup

. But man! My coffee!

. Your coffee? Caramba! Haven't you had yours yet? Really, I have to laugh, Don Rosendo. Coming!… The toast on the side?

. Wherever it happens to drop.


text: Index:The Giaour, a fragment of a Turkish tale (IA giaourfragmentof01byro).pdf


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. [Re-entering] Well, what is it going to be?

. Nothing at present. Bring pen and paper.

. And the lady?

. The same for the lady.

. Pen and paper for two, sir?

. No, no, nothing at present.

. [Calling] Pen and paper! [To ] From the theatre—the company that's playing through the feria. Not so bad, eh? On the side… Coming!

. Are you writing to some one?

. No. We are expected to order: I can do my accounts. I am not like most actors—Bohemians, who know nothing about business. I keep all my bills. Whatever I make, I always save half, and am never in want.

. [To ] The toast, sir. [Calling through the window] Coffee!

. I shall not pay that rascal more than four pesetas when the feria is over. Now he is charging six for a room opening on an inner court with a bed in it that's so big that no woman could ever occupy it alone.

. Don't say that.

. Why? Did I say anything?

. Say occupy—not alone. Don't you see? It sounds better. Don't you understand syntax? Can't you express yourself correctly? How do you expect to appear in a purely literary play unless you express yourself properly, unless you know grammar? It is easy to see you were brought up in the varieties.

. Yes, and there was something doing in the varieties while I was in them, I can tell you. Now what do we get with this legitimate stuff? Five coppers a week—when we get them. The people here are all against us. They


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BY LORD BYRON.

LONDON:

1813.


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Author:Leonard Deming

Works

 * A Collection of Useful, Interesting, and Remarkable Events (1825)
 * Catalogue of the Principal Officers of Vermont, as Connected with its Political History, from 1778 to 1851 (1851)

title: Author:Leonard Deming


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 won't let us play "Oscurantismo"; it's the only show we have that has a chance.

. "Obscurantismo"; there is a b between the o and the s.

. O, be… s!

. Yes, with emphasis on the s. Correct! And you are to play the part of Lucinda, the personification of wisdom. I suppose you understand that the play is wholly symbolic? Have you prepared yourself for your part? You don't even know what you are going to wear.

. With our trunks held for board in Madrid?

. Never mind our trunks. Don Paco has promised me money from the advance. Then we can send to Madrid and there are our clothes.

. Yes, advance! Somehow or other, I have an idea that we are going to be run out of this place without any advance.

. Run without any advance? Impossible!

. They say this town is very puritanical—that is proper, I suppose. They'll never let us play "Obscurantismo."

. Correct this time.

. If they do, nobody will come to see us.

. Pshaw! There is a strong liberal element.

. It will get a chill the first night and after that it won't be heard from. Besides, if the women don't come, the men won't. Then what will become of the audience?

.

. The papers all score us. They call us actresses Messalinas.


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 present informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or shewed a symptom of terror at so sudden a "wrench from all we know, from all we love." The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of this sacrifice, is the subject of many a Romaic and Arnaut ditty. The story in the text is one told of a young Venetian many years ago, and now nearly forgotten.—I heard it by accident recited by one of the coffee-house story-tellers who abound in the Levant, and sing or recite their narratives.—The additions and interpolations by the translator will be easily distinguished from the rest by the want of Eastern imagery; and I regret that my memory has retained so few fragments of the original.


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238

, old and steadfast,

He the great primeval minstrel,

Thereupon began to ponder,

And reflected on the method

How to make a net of linen,

How to make the hundred meshes.

Then he spoke the words which follow,

And expressed himself in thiswise:

“Is there one who flax can sow me,

Who can sow the flax and card it,

And of this a net can make me,

Weave for me its hundred meshes,

Thus this wretched fish to slaughter,

And destroy the fish unhappy?”

So a little spot they found him,

Found a place not yet burned over,

In the wide extent of marshes,

There between two stumps they found it.

Thereupon they dug the roots out,

And ’twas there they found the flaxseed,

Guarded by the worm of Tuoni,

There protected by the earthworm.

There they found a heap of ashes;

Dry the ashes that they found there,

Of a wooden burned-up vessel,

Of a boat that once had burned there.

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The Giaour, a Fragment of a Turkish Tale

 * The Giaour (1813) [First edition]
 * "The Giaour", in The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) (1898–1905), edited by Ernest Hartley Coleridge


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''This book is composed on the Linotype in Bodoni, so-called after its designer, Giambaitista Bodoni (1740-1813) a celebrated Italian scholar and printer. Bodoni planned his type especially for use on the more smoothly finished papers that came into vogue late in the eighteenth century and drew his letters with a mechanical regularity that is readily apparent on comparison with the less formal old style. Other characteristics that will be noted are the square serifs without fillet and the marked contrast between the light and heavy strokes.''


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238

We insert the above list on the authority of M. D'Ohsson; but we have not had an opportunity of testing the correctness of its information.

The order of Maulavís is the most popular religious order in Constantinople. They are called by Europeans the dancing, or whirling darveshes, and their religious performances constitute one of the public sights in Constantinople. They have service at their Takiya, or convent, every Wednesday, and at Kasim Pasha every Sunday, at 2 o'clock. There are about twenty performers, with high round felt caps and brown mantles. At a given signal they all fall flat on their faces, and rise and walk slowly round and round with their


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The circumstance to which the above story relates was not very uncommon in Turkey. A few years ago the wife of Muchtar Pacha complained to his father of his son's supposed infidelity; he asked with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake the same night! One of the guards who was


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 Rh arms folded, bowing and turning slowly several times. They then cast off their mantles and appear in long bell-shaped petticoats and jackets, and then begin to spin, revolving, dancing, and turning with extraordinary velocity.

The founder of this religious order was a native of Balkh, in Central Asia. It is said the spiritual powers of this extraordinary man were developed at the early age of six years; for once on a Friday Jalád-ud-dín was at Balkh on the roof of a house with some children of his own age, when one of the boys asked him if it were possible for him to jump from one house to the other. He replied, "If you have faith, jump up towards heaven." He then sprang upwards, and was immediately lost to sight. The youths all cried out as he disappeared, but he soon returned from the celestial regions, greatly altered in complexion and changed in figure; for he had obtained a sight of the abodes of bliss!

It is impossible to become acquainted with all the rules and ceremonies of the numerous orders of Faqírs; for, like those of the Free-


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 240 masons, they may not be divulged to the uninitiated.

The following is said to be the usual method of admitting a Muhammadan to the order of a ba Sharaʾ Faqír. Having first performed the legal ablutions, the Muríd (disciple) seats himself before the Murshid (spiritual guide). The Murshid then takes the Muríd's right hand, and requires of him a confession of sin according to the followmg form: "I ask forgiveness of the great God than Whom there is no other deity, the Eternal, the Everlasting, the Living One: I turn to Him for repentance, and beg His grace and forgiveness." This, or a similar form of repentance, is repeated several times. The Muríd then repeats after the Murshid:—"I beg for the favour of God and of the Prophet, and I take for my guide to God (here naming the Murshid) not to change or to separate. God is our witness. By the great God. There is no deity but God. Amín." The Murshid and the Muríd then recite the first chapter of the Qurán, and the Muríd concludes the ceremony by kissing the Murshid's hand.


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 TABLE OF PERCENTAGES OF COMPONENT COLORS IN THE CONNECTING HUES OF THE CHROMATIC SCALE.

The following table shows the relative percentages, in color-wheel measurement, of the two components in each of the hues connecting adjacent pairs of the six spectrum colors as represented on the original Plates of this work; together with an equal number of exact intermediates (not shown on the Plates), the latter in lower-case type and not indicated by symbols.


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 Rh After the initiatory rite, the Muríd undergoes a series of instructions, including the Zikrs, which he is required to repeat daily. The Muríd frequently visits his Murshid, and sometimes the Murshids proceed on a circuit of visitation to their disciples. The place where these "holy men" sit down to instruct the people is ever afterwards held sacred, a small flag is hoisted on a tree, and it is fenced in. Such places are called "Takiya," and are protected and kept free from pollution by some Faqír engaged for the purpose.

Those Faqírs who attain to a high degree of sanctity are called Walís, the highest rank of which is that of a Ghaus. Of such is the Akhund of Swát, on the north-west frontier of India. This celebrated religious leader at the age of eighteen became a member of the Qádiría order of Faqírs; and shortly after his incorporation, he settled down on a small island in the river Indus near Attock, where he lived the life of a recluse for twelve years. During this time, it is said, his only diet was the wild-grass seed and buffalo's milk. He soon acquired a reputation for sanctity, and has gradually become the great religious leader of Central


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 242 Asia. He now resides at the village of Seydu in Swát, where he entertains as many as a thousand visitors daily; men from all parts of the Muslim world, who come to hear his wisdom and receive the benefit of his prayers. The Akhund has always been a great opponent of Wahhábí doctrines; and, although he is not well-read in Muslim divinity, his fatwás on religious ceremonies and secular observances are received and obeyed by all the Sunní Muhammadans of the north-west frontier of British India.


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is the religious ceremony, or act of devotion, which is practised by the various religious orders of Faqírs, or Darweshes. Almost every religious Muhammadan is a member of some order of Faqírs, and, consequently, the performance of zikr is very common in all Muhammadan countries; but it does not appear that any one method of performing the religious service of zikr, is peculiar to any particular order.

Zikrs, are of two kinds, zikr-i-jalí, that which is recited aloud, and zikr-i-khafí, that which is performed either with a low voice, or mentally.

The Nagqshbandía order of Faqírs usually perform the latter, whilst the Chishtía and Qádiría orders celebrate the former. There are various ways of going through the exercise,


text: Notes on Muhammadanism/Chapter 50

title: Notes on Muhammadanism/Chapter 50


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Runo XLVIII]

There it was they sowed the flaxseed,

In the loose ash did they sow it,

On the shore of Lake of Alue,

There they sowed it in the clayfield.

Presently the shoot rose upward,

And the flax grew thick and strongly,

Grew beyond their expectations,

In a single night of summer.

Then they steeped it in the night-time,

And they carded it by moonlight,

And they cleansed it and they stripped it,

And they beat it and they rubbed it,

With their tools of steel they scraped it,

And with all their strength they stripped it.

Then they took the flax to steeping,

And it soon began to soften,

And they hastened then to pound it,

Afterwards in haste they dried it.

Then into the house they brought it,

And they hastened then to strip it,

And they hastened next to beat it,

And they hastened then to break it.

Then with diligence they cleansed it,

In the twilight did they comb it,

And upon the loom arranged it,

Quicker brought it to the spindle,

In a single night of summer;

Thus between two days they worked it

After this the sisters spun it,

And their brothers’ wives were netting,

And the brothers worked the meshes,

And the fathers also aided.

Quickly did they turn the netter,

And the mesh with speed they twisted,

Till the net was quite completed,

And the cords were fixed upon it,

In a single night of summer,

Half another in addition.

Thus the net was quite completed,

And the cords were fixed upon it.

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 Jobbernoles, 360 and n. 2; 367 and n. 5; 370 and n. 2.

Jockeys, endanger their necks, 324 and n. 1.

John of Leyden, 336; some account of, 336, n. 6.

Johns of Stiles to Joans of Nokes, 289 and n. 6.

Jonson, Ben, his "Silent Woman," 18, n. 2.

Joseph's divining-cap, 24, n. 4.

Joyce, Cornet, 12, n. 5.

Jump, punctual, 286 and n. 1.

Juno, the sacred geese of, 245 and n. 4.

Justices of the Peace, 7; duty of, 9, n. 1; 69, n. 2.

Juvare, 100 and n. 1.

Kelly, the devil appears to, 217 and n.2; particulars respecting, 220 and n. 5; feats of, 237.

Kingston, Maypole-idol at, 253 and n. 4.

Knightsbridge, 372 and n. 2.

Knights, errant, not accustomed to eating and drinking, 17; of the post, 28 and n. 1; 213 and n. 3; 422 and n. 2; degraded, 437 and n. 1.

Kircher. Athanasius, 388, n. 6.

Kyrle, the man of Ross, 186 and n. 1.

Ladies, ride astride, 58 and n. 1; conversant with the healing art, 136, n. 2; the Parliament of, 205, n.2; of the Lakes, 299 and n. 2; of the post, 439 and n. 2.

Lambert, 337 and n. 2.

Lamps, perpetual, of the ancients, 147 and n. 2.

Lance, an iron one. 256 and n. 1.

Land and Water Saints, 70 and n. 1.

Landered, 170 and n. 2.

Laocoon, at the siege of Troy, 39, n. 3.

Lapland magi, 308 and n. 2.

Larks, catching them at night, 210 and n. 3.

Laski, Albertus, particulars respecting, 221.

Law, purpose of the, 180 and n. 5.

Laws and hate, 332 and n. 1.

Lawyers, compared with the bearward, 48 and n. 6; sentenced to lose their ears, 91, n. 3; practices of, 211 and n. 2; wisdom of, 412 and n. 1; quarrels of, 413 and n. 1; severe strictures upon, 414 and n. 1.

Lay-elder, 127 and n. 4.

Leaders, victorious style of, 101, n. 3.

League and Covenant. See Solemn League and Covenant.

Leaguer-lion's skin, 148 and n. 4.

Learned, that is. taught, 352 and n. 3

Learning, ancient and modern, 45, n. 1; cried down, 131, n. 2.

Lechers, 433 and n. 2.

Lectures, morning and evening, 210. n. 3.

Leech, skilful, 52.

Leg, wooden, oath taken by the, 82, n. 2.

Lenthall, the bulls of, 364 and n. 2.

Lescus, 220. See Laski.

L'Estrange, Sir Roger, 1; his key to Hudibras, 127, n. 6; alluded to, 178, n. 3; 180, n. 1; 181, n. 2; 187, n. 6.

Levellers, or root and branch men, 340 and n. 6.

Levet, 197 and n. 3.

Lewkner's Lane, 299 and n. 1.

Liars, the founder of, 431 and n. 1.

Light, new, and Prophecy, 244 and n. 3.

Like hermit poor, a song, quoted 84, n. 2.

Lilburn, Colonel John, some account of, 344, n. 3; 345, n. 1; arraigned for treason, 346 and n. 1.

Lilly, William, the famous astrologer, 8, n. 4; 56, n. 1; 214, n. 2, 6; 218, n. 1, 2, and 3; 219, n. 4; 221, n.2; 223, n. 1; 226, n. 4; 228. n. 3; 232, n. 1; 255, n. 2: 257 and n. 3; 262; 282 and n. 1

Lincoln's Inn, 422 and n. 3.


text:
Author:John Porter Brown

Works

 * Turkish Evening Entertainments (1850)
 * Ancient and Modern Constantinople (1868)
 * The Dervishes or Oriental Spiritualism (1868)

title: Author:John Porter Brown


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 have taken into the boat, they could have been of much assistance in letting others cling to the sides. There are life lines for just that purpose.

Nearly all of the people that got aboard the fishing smack before us were dry, as these two boats had cleared before the steamer sank. All of the people on my boat had been fished out of the ocean.

About one half an hour after we were aboard the fishing smack another collapsible boat came alongside and we took these people on board.

There were a father and mother and a little year-old baby on the fishing smack. They were fortunate in getting away in one of the lifeboats, and the little chap was one of the few babies who was saved. I have seen it stated that of about 150 children aboard, only about 25 were saved. I can believe that from what I saw when we


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 were back in the wreckage pulling out people.

The trip up on the Flying Fish was uneventful. Many got quite dried off in the engine room and nearly all regained much of their normal composure. There were comparatively few who were in dire distress.

The illustration opposite this page shows the lifeboats as I found them in the slip beside the Cunard wharf on Saturday morning. I called the attention of the newspaper men who had cameras to these boats, and I was glad to see them take the picture. If they hadn't done so I should have had it done, for to me this is a very pretty piece of evidence. The picture reproduced here is taken from one of the London dailies.

I think it would be well for the Cunard Line to explain how lifeboats that are supposed to hold people, should be brought into port carrying so much dunnage.


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 Look at the oars and sails that were left in these boats, occupying space that could have been better used for carrying human freight! I climbed through each one of these boats, and they all showed evidence of having been used by survivors. You will notice that some of the boats are stripped of all extra fittings, and these probably carried their proper quota of human freight. There are but five of the boats in this picture; the sixth was in another slip.

Evidence has been given that the first torpedo crippled the engines so that it was impossible to reverse the screws and bring the steamer to a stop or slow her down to a point where the captain judged it safe to lower the boats. All right, if that is the opinion of an experienced seaman I shall not dispute it; but I should like to have a naval engineer estimate how much way there could have been on the steamer, say ten minutes


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 after she was struck, even if the engine room wasn't able to reverse the screws and bring her to a stop.

The Lusitania was of 32,000 tons displacement. She was going through the water at about 17 knots an hour. If you suddenly shut off that propulsion, giving her a list to starboard and a rapid settling by the head, I can't believe she would be ranging ahead very fast after the first 10 or 12 minutes.


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On the 18th of May, 1915, the Board of Trade required that a Formal Investigation of the circumstances attending the loss of the "Lusitania" should be held, and the Court accordingly commenced to sit on the 15th of June.

There were six sittings, some of which were public and some of which were in camera. Thirty-six witnesses were examined, and a number of documents were produced.

The "Lusitania" was a Turbine steamship built by John Brown & Co., of Clydebank, in 1907, for the Cunard Steamship Company. She was built under Admiralty Survey and in accordance with Admiralty requirements, and was classed 100 A.1. at Lloyd's. Her length was 755 feet, her beam 88 feet, and her


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240

And its length was hundred fathoms,

And its breadth was hundreds seven;

Stones for weights were fastened to it,

Likewise proper floats provided.

With the net the youths were walking,

And at home the old men pondered,

Whether they would make a capture,

And secure the fish they wished for.

Then they drew the net and dragged it,

Much they toiled, and threshed the water,

Drew it lengthwise through the water,

Dragged it crosswise through the water,

Captured many little fishes,

Many luckless perch they captured,

Many bony perch they captured,

And a large-galled Redeye likewise,

But the fish they could not capture

That for which the net was fashioned.

Said the aged Väinämöinen,

“O thou smith, O Ilmarinen,

Let us now go forth together

Where the net is in the water.”

Thereupon went both the heroes,

And they drew it through the water,

And upon one side they spread it

Round the islands in the water,

And the other side directed,

Round about the promontories,

And the balance-pole was guided

Just as aged Väinö pushed it.

Thus they cast the net and pushed it,

And they drew the net and dragged it,

Captured fishes in abundance,

And they captured perch in plenty,

Salmon-trout in great abundance,

Bream and salmon too they captured,

All the fishes of the water,

Only not the fish they sought for,

That for which the net was woven,

And the ropes were fastened to it.

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i As determined by Dr. P. G. Nutting, Associate Physicist, D. S. Bureau of Star;


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 TABLE SHOWING PERCENTAGE OF WHITE AND BLACK, RESPECTIVELY, IN EACH TONE OF THE TONE OR LUMINOSITY SCALES.

All of the vertical scales in the original Plates of this work (the scale of carbon grays alone excepted) contain the following percentages by color-wheel measurement:

One of the most serious difficulties encountered in the preparation of the Plates of this work was the apparent impracticability of reproducing satisfactory shades of pure colors. This originated in the fact that there seems to be no substance (pigment, dye, or fabric) which represents a true black, all reflecting more or less of white light, and consequently producing shades which are dull


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 or broken. The difficulty is increased by the additional fact that any black pigment mixed with almost any color falls short of even the color-wheel mixture in purity of hue in the resulting shades, owing to the very considerable amount of gray in all black pigments. Chromo-lithography can be made to produce clearer and better shades of the pure colors, but is distinctly objectionable for the purpose of a work of this kind owing to eventual oxidation of the oil or varnish with which the pigments are combined in lithographic inks, causing a change of hue; reds becoming more orange, blues more greenish, etc., in course of time.

While the absence (in large part) of pure chromatic shades is much to be regretted, the defect is not so serious, from the standpoint of utility, as might appear at first sight; for while saturated or darkened pure colors are not uncommon in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, more or less broken dark colors are infinitely more so; and since the latter are greatly increased in number by the defect mentioned the actual result is rather an advantage than otherwise.

It will doubtless be noticed that there is a conspicuous difference in relative darkness between shades of yellow and contiguous hues on the one hand and corresponding ones of violet and adjacent hues on the other, as if the percentage of black in each were very different. This, however, is entirely the result of difference of luminosity of the two sets of colors, that of yellow being between 7000 and 8000 while that of violet is only about 13; for the percentage of black in corresponding tones of the vertical scales is precisely the same for each color throughout the chromatic scale of this work.


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 TABLE SHOWING PERCENTAGES OF NEUTRAL GRAY IN THE BROKEN COLOR SCALES.

Every Plate in each series of broken colors (′ to ′′′) contains exactly the same percentage of neutral gray in each color, the relative amount increasing progressively in the several series, as shown in the following table. The percentages of white in the tints and of black in the shades of the tone scales are in all cases exactly the same as in the tone scales of pure colors.

Note.—The percentages given in the preceding tables may not in all cases be precisely those actually contained in the colors on the Plates, since absolute precision in reproduction is hardly possible. All that can be claimed is a reasonably close approximation to the ideal.


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230 HOLY weeke.

If any man aske (saith S. Augustine) why they could not beleeue: I answer roundly, because they would not Tract. 33. in Io. See the meaning of this speach Annot. Mat. 13,15. Mr. 4,12.

This is the case of many principal men in such countries where heresie hath the vpper hand, who know & beleeue the Catholike faith; but making choise rather to keepe mans fauour then Gods, they dare not confesse the same. Such may pray that God and the world agree together: for els it is seen whose part they wil take.

Church ornaments.

Toleration of the euil.

keth in darkenesse, knoweth not whither he goeth. 36. Whiles you haue the light, beleeue in the light, that you may be the children of light. These things spake and he went away, and hid himself from them.

37. And whereas he had done so many signes before them, they beleeued not in him: 38. that the saying of Esay the Prophet might be fulfilled, which he said: Lord, who hath beleeued the hearing of vs? 39. and the arme of our Lord to whom hath it beene reuealed? 40. Therfore they could not beleeue, because Esay said againe: He hath blinded their eyes, and indurated their hart: that they may not see with their eyes, nor vnderstand with their hart, and be conuerted, and I heale them. 41. These things said Esaie, when he saw his glorie, & spake of him. 42. But yet of the Princes also many beleeued in him: but for the Pharisees they did not confesse, that they might not be cast out of the Synagogue. 43. For they loued the glorie of men more, then the glorie of God.

44. But cried, and said: He that beleeueth in me, doth not beleeue in me, but in him that sent me. 45. And he that seeth me, seeth him that sent me. 46. I a light am come into this world: that euery one which beleeueth in me, may not remaine in darkenesse. 47. And if any man heare my wordes, and keepe them not: I doe not iudge him. For I came not the iudge the world, but to saue the world. 48. He that despiseth me, & receiueth not my wordes, hath that iudgeth him. the word that I haue spoken, that shal iudge him in the last day. 49. Because of my self I haue not spoken, but the Father that sent me, he gaue me commandement what I should say, and what I should speake. 50. And I know that this commandement is life euerlasting. The things therfore that I speake: as the Father said to me, so doe I speake.

ANNOTATIONS.

5. Why was. ) So wicked, couetous, and sacrilegious persons reprehend good men for bestowing their goods vpon Church ornaments &c. vnder pretence of better bestowing them on the poore: such prouide for the poore as Iudas did.

6. A theefe. ) Iudas did not then first perish when he sould our Lord, for he was a theefe before: and being lost he yet followed Christ, not in hart, but in body only. Which our Maister tolerated, to giue vs a lesson to tolerate the il, rather then deuide the body. Aug. tract. 50. in Io.

Es. 53, 1

Esa. 6,9. Mt. 13.14 Mr. 4, 12. Lu. 8.10. Act 28,27. Rh


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 ago, they had looked at as a pale white bride, entering on a new life with trembling happy hope.

Among those humble friends who passionately grieved over the dead, was a village girl who had been seduced some little time before, but who had found a holy sister in Charlotte. She had sheltered her with her help, her counsel, her strengthening words; had ministered to her needs in her time of trial. Bitter, bitter was the grief of this poor young woman, when she heard that her friend was sick unto death, and deep is her mourning until this day. A blind girl, living some four miles from Haworth, loved Mrs. Nicholls so dearly that, with many cries and entreaties, she implored those about her to lead her along the roads, and over the moor-paths, that she might hear the last solemn words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

Such were the mourners over Charlotte Brontë's grave.

I have little more to say. If my readers find that I have not said enough, I have said too much. I cannot measure or judge of such a character as hers. I cannot map out vices, and virtues, and debateable land. One who knew her long and well,—the "Mary" of this Life—writes thus of her dead friend:—

"She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to


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. Oh, people make allowances for that.

. They say the actors are rotten.

. That is too bad!

. And I'd hate to tell you what they say about the management.

. Bigots! Fanatics!—Waiter, the papers! The morning papers!

. Here you are, sir: The Echo, The Voice. When do you open? Believe me, the town is on tiptoe. I wonder if you are going to play that piece which has made such a sensation? We certainly do need it here. People are very pharisaical.

. Pharisaical is the word.

. The fact is, the ladies have formed a league.

. A league?

. Yes, sir, and they will be against you. They have been here already to ask the proprietor not to distribute the hand-bills nor to allow placards to be hung in the café.

. What do you think of that?

. Bigots! Fanatics! Spain is going to the dogs. They'll rend us limb from limb.

. And nobody will come to see us! I knew it all the time.

. Not if you have a league of ladies against you.

. What is the matter?

. What has happened?

. It's the bull-fighters—the toreros arriving at their hotel. The Hotel of the Universe, sir.

. What enthusiasm! Rome in her decadence was never like this.


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 DYES AND PIGMENTS USED IN THE PREPARATION OF THE MAXWELL DISKS, REPRESENTING THE THIRTY-SIX COLORS OF THE PURE SPECTRUM SCALE, FORMING THE BASIS OF THE COLOR-SCHEME OF THIS WORK.

Red.—Devoe's geranium lake (dry), its orange hue neutralized by a wash of rhodamin b. (Crocein scarlet b. washed with rhodamin b. produces practically the same fine red.)

Hues between red and orange.—Crocein scarlet b. with gold orange.

Orange.—Gold orange with orange g.

Hues between orange and yellow.—Orange g. with auramin.

Yellow—Auramin, rather dilute. (The best substitute among pigments is a fine quality of zinc yellow, as Hatfield's.)

Hues between yellow and green. — Auramin washed with light green.

Green.—Auramin (very dilute) washed with light green. (The auramin should be applied first, because it "sets" or becomes fast quickly, while the light green does not, but is largely removed by over washes of the yellow, thus rendering it very difficult to get the desired hue.)

Hues between green and blue.—Methyl green; the same washed with light blue (Diamond Dye); for the hues nearer blue, light blue washed with Winsor and Newton's permanent blue or new blue (the least violet-hued of the artificial ultramarines).

Blue.—Light blue washed with permanent blue or new blue. (Although the color is nearer that of the artificial ultramarines named, it is useless to apply the latter first,


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. Campos, the torero of the day. Ah!

. Who gets six thousand pesetas at every corrida?

. And the fellow doesn't even know how to talk!

. Really, you do him injustice. Campos is a very cultivated person; it is pleasure to listen to him. He can converse upon any topic—politics, for instance, music. It is the same thing as reading the papers. He is received by the best people.

. Would you believe it, at our boarding-house they wanted to make us pay in advance?

. Are you going to the fight?

. No, I detest the spectacle. They usually send me free tickets when I am in Madrid out of compliment, but I always get rid of them to some friend at a discount, and so save myself the trouble of going.

. [To ] Are you going, Don Rosendo?

. I may at the last moment. When you think how these toreros used to slink in at the station with their packs on their backs, and then look at these fellows… Did you see? Riding if you please in the coach of the Marquis of Solar! How are the bulls this year?

. A new herd in the plaza, belonging to the Marquis of Torrelodones. Campos insisted upon it, as he is a friend of the Marquis's daughter. She is in town to see the corrida. They are related to the Governor.

. Are they staying at the Palace? Now I remember they were in the shop yesterday to make some purchases with the Governor's wife. Clearly people of taste.

. Here comes the Governor.

. On his way to service at the cathedral. [ enters, surrounded by a group of dignified and elderly


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THE

A COLLECTION OF

ENGLISH MELODIES,

INCLUDING THE MOST POPULAR

TRADITIONAL DITTIES,

AND THE

PRINCIPAL SONGS AND BALLADS

OF THE LAST THREE CENTURIES.

EDITED, WITH

NEW SYMPHONIES AND ACCOMPANIMENTS,

BY

In Two Volumes; each containing 100 Songs.

VOL I.

LONDON: BOOSEY & CO., REGENT STREET. NEW YORK: WILLIAM A. POND AND CO

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 ''gentlemen. They pass across the stage''] Your servant. Your Excellency.

. Delighted to see you.

. Was that the Governor?

. What a cultivated gentleman!

. Is he a good man?

. Excellent.

. Then he will not interfere with us.

. Don't say that. Tell me, is he liberal in his opinions?

. Liberal? In Moraleda it isn't worth one's while to be liberal. Imagine, every year on the eleventh of February the republicans unite to dine together in this café, and they always eat at two tables, because there are four of them, and they are divided into two parties.

. Gracious! What a place to come to! The minute you scent money, touch Paco for the advance.

. Scent money? How you talk!

. We have been shopping so long that we shall be too late for the sermon.

. Don't be silly, mamma. You know Josefina said there was no need to hurry. She promised to keep two good seats for us.

. [Bowing] Señora Doña O! Señorita Esperanza!

. Why, Don Rosendo! We just this moment left your shop.

. To what am I indebted for the honor? The shop is closed to-day.

. Another notion of my daughter's! She insists that if she is going to the bull-fight, she must have a mantilla with tassels on it.


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. How charmingly appropriate!

. Thank you so much. Who is that woman you were talking to?

. Hm! I don't know… that is, a stranger. The fact is, they were asking me…

. [Looking them over] Heavens! But she has a bad face. I hope I do not do her injustice.

. [Aside to ] Look at that old hypocrite staring at me.

. Don't you stare back. Somebody must have manners.

. I hope you found something to suit.

. I arranged with the boy to send home some things on approval. We can make up our minds later at our leisure.

. As you say.

. Heaven knows what we are going to do with any more mantillas! We have them by the dozen in the house already, and of the very best quality: blacks, whites, creams, browns. But somehow or other, something always seems to be lacking. My daughter always wants something that she hasn't yet got.

. It is the way with all young ladies.

. I never have anything that I want, Don Rosendo; they always advise me.

. For heaven's sake, don't begin talking nonsense! Fortunately you understand, Don Rosendo.

. I know her father.

. I never have my own way. I have nothing to live for…

. My dear, don't make yourself ridiculous. The next thing, I suppose, she'll be wanting to die.

. Doña Esperancita!


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Rh


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Author:Eaton Faning

Works

 * The Songs of England, vol. 3 (ed.)

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ROYAL EDITION

THE SONGS OF ENGLAND

VOL III

BOOSEY & CO LONDON & NEW YORK

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great success which has followed the publication of "The Songs of England" has induced me to make another search among the stores of old popular ballads, with the view of producing a second and companion volume to the book that is so universally popular. The result has more than answered my expectations. I could hardly believe so many good songs were still available, and I have therefore been able to collect a second selection hardly less interesting and valuable than the first. The two volumes together form a not unworthy monument to the composers of our Standard Songs and Ballads.

J. L. HATTON.

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298   Can the craft of State avail them! Can a Christless church withstand, In the van of Freedom’s onset, the coming of that hand?

over, Moses! All is lost!
 * I hear the bells a-ringing;

Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host
 * I hear the Free-Wills singing,

We ’re routed, Moses, horse and foot,
 * If there be truth in figures,

With Federal Whigs in hot pursuit,
 * And Hale, and all the “niggers.”

Alack! alas! this month or more
 * We ’ve felt a sad foreboding;

Our very dreams the burden bore
 * Of central cliques exploding;

Before our eyes a furnace shone,
 * Where heads of dough were roasting,

And one we took to be your own
 * The traitor Hale was toasting!


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The Unpardonable Sin against the Holy Ghost

 * The Unpardonable Sin against the Holy Ghost; or, the Sin unto Death (chapbook, 1774)
 * The Unpardonable Sin against the Holy Ghost; or, the Sin unto Death (chapbook, 1776)
 * The Unpardonable Sin against the Holy Ghost (chapbook, 1816)
 * The Unpardonable Sin against the Holy Ghost (chapbook, 1818)


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138   :For you the Mayflower spread her sail once more, Freighted with souls, to all that duty bid Faithful as they who sought an unknown land, O’er wintry seas, from Holland’s Hook of Sand!

So from his lost home to the darkening main,
 * Bodeful of storm, stout Macy held his way,
 * And, when the green shore blended with the gray,

His poor wife moaned: “Let us turn back again.” “Nay, woman, weak of faith, kneel down,” said he,
 * “And say thy prayers: the Lord himself will steer;
 * And led by Him, nor man nor devils I fear!”

So the gray Southwicks, from a rainy sea, Saw, far and faint, the loom of land, and gave
 * With feeble voices thanks for friendly ground
 * Whereon to rest their weary feet, and found

A peaceful death-bed and a quiet grave Where, ocean-walled, and wiser than his age, The lord of Shelter scorned the bigot’s rage.

Aquidneck’s isle, Nantucket’s lonely shores,
 * And Indian-haunted Narragansett saw
 * The way-worn travellers round their camp-fire draw,

Or heard the plashing of their weary oars. And every place whereon they rested grew
 * Happier for pure and gracious womanhood,
 * And men whose names for stainless honor stood,

Founders of States and rulers wise and true. The Muse of history yet shall make amends
 * To those who freedom, peace, and justice taught,
 * Beyond their dark age led the van of thought,

And left unforfeited the name of Friends. O mother State, how foiled was thy design! The gain was theirs, the loss alone was thine.

pleasant isle of Rügen looks the Baltic water o’er, To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian shore;

And in the town of Rambin a little boy and maid Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the sea-surf played.

Alike were they in beauty if not in their degree: He was the Amptman’s first-born, the miller’s child was she.

Now of old the isle of Rügen was full of Dwarfs and Trolls, The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without souls;

And for every man and woman in Rügen’s island found Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was underground.

It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled away Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves and goblins play.

That day, in barley fields below, the harvesters had known Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns blown.

She came not back; the search for her in field and wood was vain: They cried her east, they cried her west, but she came not again.

“She ’s down among the Brown Dwarfs,” said the dream-wives wise and old, And prayers were made, and masses said, and Rambin’s church bell tolled.


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Rh Five years her father mourned her; and then John Deitrich said: “I will find my little playmate, be she alive or dead.”

He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the Brown Dwarfs sing, And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a ring.

And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap of red, Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it on his head.

The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for lack of it. “Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great head unfit!”

“Nay,” Deitrich said; “the Dwarf who throws his charmed cap away, Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly pay.

“You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the earth; And you shall ope the door of glass and let me lead her forth.”

“She will not come; she ’s one of us; she ’s mine!” the Brown Dwarf said; “The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we shall wed.”

“The fell fiend fetch thee!” Deitrich cried, “and keep thy foul tongue still. Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of the hill!”

The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down the long stairway passed, And saw in dim and sunless light a country strange and vast.

Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the elfin under-land,— Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden sand.

He came unto a banquet-hall with tables richly spread, Where a young maiden served to him the red wine and the bread.

How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly and so wild! Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never smiled!

Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her tender blue eyes seemed Like something he had seen elsewhere or something he had dreamed.

He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew the long-lost one; “O Lisbeth! See thy playmate—I am the Amptman’s son!”

She leaned her fair head on his breast, and through her sobs she spoke: “Oh, take me from this evil place, and from the elfin folk!

“And let me tread the grass-green fields and smell the flowers again, And feel the soft wind on my cheek and hear the dropping rain!

“And oh, to hear the singing bird, the rustling of the tree, The lowing cows, the bleat of sheep, the voices of the sea;

“And oh, upon my father’s knee to sit beside the door, And hear the bell of vespers ring in Rambin church once more!”

He kissed her cheek, he kissed her lips; the Brown Dwarf groaned to see, And tore his tangled hair and ground his long teeth angrily.

But Deitrich said: “For five long years this tender Christian maid Has served you in your evil world, and well must she be paid!

“Haste!—hither bring me precious gems, the richest in your store; Then when we pass the gate of glass, you ’ll take your cap once more.”

No choice was left the baffled Troll, and, murmuring, he obeyed, And filled the pockets of the youth and apron of the maid.


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140  They left the dreadful under-land and passed the gate of glass; They felt the sunshine’s warm caress, they trod the soft, green grass.

And when, beneath, they saw the Dwarf stretch up to them his brown And crooked claw-like fingers, they tossed his red cap down.

Oh, never shone so bright a sun, was never sky so blue, As hand in hand they homeward walked the pleasant meadows through!

And never sang the birds so sweet in Rambin’s woods before, And never washed the waves so soft along the Baltic shore;

And when beneath his door-yard trees the father met his child, The bells rung out their merriest peal, the folks with joy ran wild.

And soon from Rambin’s holy church the twain came forth as one, The Amptman kissed a daughter, the miller blest a son.

John Deitrich’s fame went far and wide, and nurse and maid crooned o’er Their cradle song: “Sleep on, sleep well, the Trolls shall come no more!”

For in the haunted Nine Hills he set a cross of stone; And Elf and Brown Dwarf sought in vain a door where door was none.

The tower he built in Rambin, fair Rügen’s pride and boast, Looked o’er the Baltic water to the Pomeranian coast;

And, for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond compare, Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long and happy there.


text: Translation:Announcements, Acts, and Decrees From the Reign of Rama VIII/Tome 2/Part 27


text: The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Brown Dwarf of Rügen


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 for overwashes of the light blue merely sink through and darken the color without improving the hue. A moderately saturated solution of the light blue should be applied first, and when this is dry covered with one or more rather thin washes of the permanent blue or new blue).

Hues between blue and violet.— Windsor and Newton's permanent blue and some of the more violet-hued artificial ultramarines, the hues nearer violet washed with crystal violet or gentian violet.

Violet.—Crystal violet.

Hues between violet and red.—Methyl violet 1b. washed with rhodamin b.; for hues nearer red, rhodamin b. with Devoe's geranium red (dry) or crocein scarlet b.

While more or less similar in hue to rhodamin b., several other aniline dyes, as acid fuchsin, rubin s., rosein, magenta, etc., do not combine satisfactorily with the violets, the mixture soon becoming dark or dull and none of them are quite as pure a purple or red-violet.

It is most important to remember that disks thus colored must be carefully protected from light when not in actual use and never exposed to direct sunlight. The artificial ultramarines are, of course, permanent, and so, practically, are crocein scarlet, gold orange, orange g., and auramin — that is to say, are not materially affected by the action of light except after very prolonged exposure, though the last named undergoes a change of hue; but the green and violet aniline dyes are all very evanescent, rapidly fading and eventually disappearing; light blue and rhodamin, while sensitive to light, are far less so than the greens and violets.


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The present volume has grown out of a need — which I have abundant reason to suppose that others as well as myself have experienced — for some means of acquiring a knowledge of the Arabic dialect spoken, not only in Jerusalem, but with some slight variations, in the whole of Palestine, to-day.

Such manuals as already exist in English are, for the most part, adapted for the Egyptian Arabic, or for the Libanese such as is spoken in Beirut and in the north, or for other special districts, and may be misleading, especially in nomenclature, to such as have learnt no Arabic whatever; and confusing to those who, like myself, when I came into this part of the country six years ago, are students of the classical language only. Such manuals, moreover, contain many words which occur only in modern, literary Arabic, and which, as not belonging to the vernacular and not understood by the populace, have, in this volume, been carefully excluded.

I have sought to adapt this work to the Arabic student interested in the dialect as such, as well as to those requiring the language for daily use in Palestine; also to the passing traveller seeking to make himself understood, and to understand those about him. In these days of multiplication of railways, hotels, and other conveniences of travel, when the often obtrusive dragoman is happily becoming less of a necessity, the demand for a practical phrase-book is increasingly urgent. The necessary limits of such a Manual obviously preclude the possibility of presenting a Grammar which is exhaustive, even in regard to the vernacular; it is however hoped that it may be found to include all that in necessary for such practical use as has been suggested.

The Latin script has been used throughout, in order to give the precise pronunciation, each word being transliterated as uttered in the vernacular, regardless of its form in literary Arabic from which there ate many deviations, especially in the s sounds. The literary

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text:
Author:Augustus Frederick Adolphus Greeves

Works

 * "Hunting the Blacks"


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text:
Author:Champion Russell

Works

 * The House Sparrow

title: Author:Champion Russell


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text:
Le Lutrin (Boileau)

 * Le Lutrin, an Heroick Poem (1682), translated by N. O.
 * Lutrin: a Mock-Heroic Poem (1708), translated by John Ozell

title: Le Lutrin (Boileau)


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text:
One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 5

breakfast next morning his mother faced him over her coffee-cup, stern and less ready. “I have been going over the accounts all night.” She spoke in a voice that was half complaint. “I don't see how we can manage it. The interest is a hundred and eighty-six and the taxes thirty-five, and there is never anything left at the end of the year, even as it is now.” She looked at him, her dark eyes weary with the night's work.

His own eyes flashed back a still light. “I shall do it some way, mother. Don't you worry.”

She shook her head, choking back something in her throat. “Your father would have wanted you to—if he had lived” She rose quickly and turned away to the pantry.

When she came back her eyes were shining again.

He looked at her, smiling. “You'll find that Tom makes twice as much off the farm as I ever have. You'll be rich.”

“There's the schooling,” she said anxiously.

“I shall earn it.” His lips came together. The dreamy look in his eyes was replaced by one of shrewd determination.

His mother's glance followed him admiringly. She rose from the table and began to clear away the dishes. Her step was light.

“And if I find I can't study and earn, too, I'll stop till I get enough to go on. It isn't as if I were good for much on the farm” He looked at her, waiting,

“No, no—have your way. You've never asked for what you hadn't ought to have. It's true enough you'll never be a farmer.” She stood for a moment, one hand holding the plates and cups, the other resting on the table, looking at him fondly. Then she turned brusquely away to the sink.

He took down his cap from its nail and went out into the clear light, whistling. Particles of frost glinted in the air. They formed on the edge of his upturned collar and fur cap and deepened the down of his lip. He blew them aside with a laugh. Taking the axe from the shed, down the lane he strode, the crusted earth crunching beneath his vigorous tread. The axe was shifted from side to side, as he walked, and the free arm swung across his chest. He struck into the wood-road with a song and hallooed to the stillness. The love-sick boy of yesterday was gone. Taking off his cap he called and sang till the blue-jays forgot to be frightened and hovered, curious, in the trees overhead. He took off his cap to them, looking up through the tree-tops to the blue shimmer of sky. He swung the cap around his head and they darted away—a blue and white clatter of sound. He replaced it, laughing softly.

The earth was alive. He reached out to the bushes as he passed, trailing the budded stems through his fingers and brushing the purple-brown oak-leaves with swiftest touch. When he came to the tree that he was to cut he ran his palm up and down its rough bark before he seized his axe and swung it clear from his shoulder. The blows rang even and hard, and with every blow he drove home the first declension of the Greek grammar.

Every day found him at work in the woods. Soon Tom Bishop joined him and the cross-cut saw flashed to its work in the trunks. Richard, to the tune of its monotonous seesaw, sang Greek verbs and declined nouns—till Tom caught the rhythm and chanted declensions in sheer self-defence. At night when he repeated the strange sounds proudly to his little wife she looked at him in delight—but half in fear that he would grow away from her. She counted jealously the days that must elapse before the sledding should be done.

The fame of Richard's learning went abroad through the land. All the world knew that Seth Kinney was “learning him Greek.” The old man came often to the wood-lot to hear him recite. Sitting on a fallen log, he would repeat long, rolling lines of poetry that the choppers repeated after him, to the rhythm of the saw, till the still, cold light was alive with tumbling Greek. Perhaps the blue-jays, flitting among the treetops, heard the news and told it to the crows; and the crows of the open field called to the snowbirds and sparrows; and the snowbirds lisped it to the chickadees; and the chickadees, turning upside down on the orchard trees, twittered to the hens running to and fro and cackling everywhere. Or it may be that Tom's wife told her mother. In any case, the whole village knew it. And, perhaps, it was a little balm to Richard's heart—if balm it needed—as he swung by her lighted window at night to know that she knew.

title: One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 5


text:
One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 6

the snow began melting from the partridge-berries the wood had been cut and hauled. Only scattered chips remained to tell the winter's work. And, although all the village knew that Richard was learning Greek, it did not know that in the woods he had learned something harder than Greek. No one but he and Seth knew that with every blow of the axe he had made a stroke at his trouble—and cut it, and sawed it, and split it, and piled it high, and sledded it to town, and sold it at so much a cord—till his heart was as sound as a drum.

And when one morning he passed Emily in her new spring array, tripping along the country road, he could lift his hat and smile at her proudly. And Emily, fingering the ribbons that fell from her throat, called him in her heart a fickle thing and rejoiced anew that she was to be Mrs. Edwards.

He was on his way to Uncle Eben's when he met her—carrying a message from his mother. He found the old man in the side garden, pottering about over the half-dried earth and warming his stiff back in the sun.

“Limy beans?” said Uncle Eben when he heard the request. “You'll have to go into the house and ask her. She hain't give me mine yet. It's time for 'em, too. She keeps 'em locked up in the secritary—ch'ice as gold.” He rose stiffly from his knees and led the way to the house.

Aunt Jerusha was buried in the depths of the Dutch oven, a long feather duster in her hand, with which she whisked its sides. She emerged, shining and surprised.

“Well, I declare, Richard; is that you!” She readjusted her spectacles and looked at him kindly. Her skirt was pinned safely up out of harm's way and her sleeves were rolled above the elbow. A sunbonnet protected her head. She beamed out of its depths.

“Want some of the Limas, do you, for plantin'? Well, I do' know how many we'll have. I hain't got 'em down for Pa yet.” She glanced at him suspiciously.

He shifted from one foot to the other. It might have been hope or it might have been impatience.

Aunt Jerusha's look changed to affection. “He wants some, dreadful,” she confided to Richard, “but it ain't time yet.”

She crossed the room and took from a high nail by the shelf a key. It was the key to the parlor-door. “You come with me, Richard,” she said mildly, as she waddled away.

Uncle Eben looked wistfully after them. He seated himself in a straight-backed chair and, lifting his feet to the front round, rubbed his fingers thoughtfully.

Aunt Jerusha opened the parlor-door into the dim light. “You can come right in,” she said proudly. “Never mind your feet. Women were made to sweep up dirt. I've got to clean here next week anyway.”

The room was speckless. Not a trace of dust rested on any object, though Aunt Jerusha gave an ostentatious puff to the plush album as she lifted it. She opened it with a little gesture of pride. It was half filled with pictures, and in the hole left vacant in the other half reposed a key. “I keep it in here,” she whispered. “He wouldn't ever think of looking in that.” She chuckled softly as she drew it out. She snapped the heavy clasps safely and returned the album to the table.

“I thought I might's well show you.” She stood in the dim light, watching him mysteriously out of her sunbonnet. “If anything should happen to me, somebody'd hev to know, and he wouldn't have no more care 'an a child.” She directed her nod towards the kitchen.

Uncle Eben looked up hopefully as they returned, the key to the secretary borne in Aunt Jerusha's palm.

Mounting a chair in front of the high secretary she inserted the key in the lock. The doors swung open. Uncle Eben feasted his eyes. There were packages of seeds and velvet bonnets and a string of gold beads and a high shell comb. She touched a package of papers that lay at the left. “That's my will,” she said significantly to Richard. “I've left everything to him.”

A glow of appreciation overspread Uncle Eben's face. “Why, Jerusha,”—his boot-heels came down with a clatter to the floor,—“why, Jerusha”

“Not a word!” she said sternly, turning on him. “I don't want to hear a word.”

She turned back to the open space and searched among the packages. “Here they be.” She gave a fat sigh and descended from the chair, closing the mysterious doors. She emptied the package in her lap, Uncle Eben eying it enviously from afar.

“I shall divide even,” she said with a calm air,—“just even.” She counted out the beans, one by one, each in its separate pile, and handed one of the piles to Richard. “There. Tell your mother I divided equal.”

“I'll tell her,” said Richard, stowing away the bag in his pocket. He knew better than to hurt Aunt Jerusha's feelings by refusing any proffered favor.

She sat leaning comfortably back in her chair, looking at him. “They say you're learning Greek, Richard,” she said at last, rocking a little.

Uncle Eben tipped eagerly forward in his chair.

She ignored him. “Are ye?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“And you're going to college?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“How's Amanda Derring going to pay for it?” she asked severely.

“I'm going to pay my own way,” said the boy.

She nodded slowly. “I thought like enough. But you can't do it.”

“I'm going to.”

She looked at him more approvingly. “The Lord helps them that helps themselves,” she said solemnly, “and I and the Lord do the same.”

She rose majestically and opened the secretary doors once more. She took down a broken-nosed teapot and extracted a roll of bills, holding it out to him. “There's one hundred dollars,” she said slowly. “I shall give you that every year till you get through. And if anything happens to me, Eben's to give it to you—same as if I was alive.”

“Of course I” began Uncle Eben from his chair.

She stopped him swiftly. “Don't say a word.”

His open mouth collapsed. He rubbed his fingers thoughtfully.

She turned to the boy. “Run along home, Richard. Don't forget to tell your mother I divided the beans with her—even.”

title: One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 6


text:
One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 7

the farmer?” whispered the boy on the back seat to his neighbor.

It was the examination in Greek. Richard's ears reddened to the tips. He sat two seats away. But the ears accustomed to note the falling of a leaf were keen, and the whisper was loud. He would have it out with the fellow at noon. Now he merely shrugged his shoulders a little and devoted himself anew to his verb. It was  and he had chosen it first to conjugate, as being the easiest thing on the paper. But it was unexpectedly difficult. He was confused. Emily's saucy eyes were coming between him and the page, snatching away its meaning. “I have loved—you have loved,” his pen scratched desperately on. How pretty she had looked that morning. And he had thought he was over it! He shook himself. “I shall love” He glanced despairingly at the clock. The time was nearly up. It must be the coming away from home that had upset him. She was not worth a thought. He gathered himself for a fresh start and wrote rapidly.

“Farmer's getting rattled,” whispered the boy on the back seat.

Richard made another mental note and plunged on.

“Time.” It was the voice of the assistant.

Richard dropped his pen and gathered up his scattered notes, running his eye hastily over them. They were enough to flunk him. He could see that at a glance. He handed them in with sullen face.

“In half an hour the oral examination will be held in this room,” announced the assistant in a stereotyped voice.

The boys plunged into the open. Richard sought out the boy of the back seat and salved his wounded feelings by hand-to-hand measures. The fellow got up, puffing and grinning a little sheepishly.

“You've got muscle,” he said enviously.

Two upper-classmen, passing, had stopped for a moment to watch the contest. “He'll have a try for the team,” said one.

They strolled on.

“It's the shoulders that count.”

“Partly—and muscle.”

“And grit. Did you see his face? Looked as if he was chewing iron.”

Richard and the boy shook hands and went back to the class-room. The Professor was on the platform. He had mild brown hair and a large nose, surmounted by spectacles. He glared through them. at the hapless youth. He had a sensitive ear for Greek accents and the entrance examinations wore on it. The assistant had been showing him the written work. It was very poor. His face was prepared for the worst. The oral examination would consist of reading in the original Greek.

The boys subsided beneath his glare and there was ominous silence.

“Next,” growled the Professor. He surveyed Richard—his heavy shoulders and big hands—and groaned inwardly. He resigned himself to his fate.

Richard struggled to his feet. His face was red and his throat dry. The words came with rasping hoarseness. Then the swing of the rhythm caught him. His voice opened and deepened and he was off on the lines. The silence of the woods was about him, and the sound of the cross-cut saw rose upon it. He swayed to its tune, the words rolling out—rising and falling to a kind of heavy chant. The Professor on the platform started a little. He pushed his spectacles high on his forehead and rubbed his great nose. The wrinkles smoothed from his brow and the peace of days settled upon his face. The boy on the back seat nudged his neighbor. “Farmer's getting there,” he whispered.

“H-s-h!” growled the Professor.

Richard came to a stop, looking up blinkingly. He had forgotten the class and the Professor. He and Tom had been swaying back and forth to the sound of the cross-cut saw, chanting the deep, monotonous sounds.

The Professor beamed on him. A faint, half-scared cheer went up from the class. The spectacles descended and glared at them. “Time to cheer when you are out of the woods,” he said. “Next.”

The next youth rose and blundered on. The hour wore away and the class escaped, but bruised and sore.

The Professor detained Richard by a gesture. “Where did you fit?” he asked brusquely.

“At home.”

“Where?”

“In Ashton.”

“Massachusetts?”

“Yes.”

“There's no school there.”

“No, sir, I studied by myself and with an old man.”

“Umph!” The spectacles regarded him.

“And did he read Greek the way you do?”

The boy's face reddened. “Not exactly. We did it that way, sawing logs—I got into the swing of it and forgot.”

The Professor leaned forward, tapping the Odyssey with his spectacles. “You recited Greek in the woods?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sawing logs?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Professor's face grew light. He chuckled. “And we think we can teach them indoors!”

“Is it all right, sir?”

“All right?” growled the Professor. “It's the way they did it in Greece—three thousand years ago. Go home and thank your lucky stars you had something besides boards over your head while you learned it.”

title: One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 7


text:
One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 8

of boys were waiting about the door. The boy of the back seat linked his arm in Richard's. “What'd old Four-Eyes want?” he demanded.

“Got a leather medal anywhere?”

“What'd he say, anyhow?”

The fact that Richard was their senior by several years did not seem to impress them. They gathered about him, chaffing and questioning. They disregarded his stern look as he tried to shoulder his way through the crowd.

“Oh, hold on.”

“Tell us what he said.”

In the end Richard complied, half resentfully.

“Liked it, did he? My eye!”

They danced about him.

“For he liked it, don't you know, don't you know?” they chanted, “For he liked it, don't you know—o-oh!”

“Then Aurora, rosy-fingered daughter of the morn,” wailed a small, chubby lad with pink cheeks.

It was the seesaw chant of the woods.

The group took it up with a shout of joy. They sent the burlesque jigging across the campus.

Heads were thrust out above. “Hey, you Freshies! Haw-haw-haw! Keep quiet, down there!”

A shout of defiance went up from the group. They were drunk with too much Greek and with release from oppression.

they chanted on, marching with mock, solemn front.

A deep voice underran the chant and snatched it from them and made it beautiful, hurling it out with force. The group looked at him a moment doubtingly. Then they gave way and followed his lead. The burlesque had become a march of triumph. Breathless they landed him at his own door.

“Say, you fellows, what do you bet old Four-Eyes don't let us all off easy on account of the Farmer?”

“Three cheers for Farmer!”

“Hip—hip!”

“Three cheers for Four-Eyes!”

Heads were thrust out again above. “Yah—yah—yah! Dry up, down there. Yah—yah!”

The group broke up and drifted apart with a final yell. Windows descended with a slam, and quiet reigned.

The Greek Professor, crossing the campus five minutes later, heard only the twittering of English sparrows and the quiet rustle of the leaves. Underneath the quiet, for the Professor's ears, ran sonorous epic lines, chanted to a deep measure. The Professor held his head high and stepped to a mighty tune.

The whole class was entered without condition in Greek—a thing unprecedented. The faculty gasped when they heard the news. The students grinned. News of the Greek prodigy got about college. Poor Richard found his path a thorny one. He could not appear on the campus but a chant in Greek would spring up of itself in the distance—swelling or dying away to an echo, according to the number of students on hand, and ending always with the mocking refrain, “For he liked it, don't you know—o-oh!”

The situation gave him enough to think about. He forgot to remember Emily, or even to remember that he had expected to remember her and be miserable. She rested in the background of memory, a faint blur, brushed out of existence by a grinning yell of derision.

He learned to set his teeth and grin back; and in the end he found his unwelcome distinction an advantage. It might not be comfortable to be recognized and pointed out in every new class he attended as the learned wood-chopper; but at least he was recognized. No professor forgot his name or fumbled up and down the class-list trying to place him. And the fact that he was older than the majority of the class, added to the uncanny Greek distinction, gave him an assured place.

When it was known that he was working his way through college numberless opportunities sprang up. The faculty gave him tutoring and secretary work to do. The student body put him on the football team. Emily's image grew so faint that Cupid must have wrung his infant hands in despair.

The four years went by with undignified haste. Richard was conscious of leaving undone half that he meant to do. He groaned in spirit over vast tracts of literature—of which he knew not even the name—that he could get no time to explore. Nevertheless, he found himself, at the end of the course, taking honors in English. He gasped a little. Then he hunted up the professor of English and laid before him his secret desire.

“Want to be a journalist?” said the Professor with a smile. “I thought it was Greek.”

Richard made a hasty gesture—“Never!”

The Professor laughed out. He was a trim, slight man. “Had enough in college?”

Richard nodded.

The Professor drummed with his fingers on the table for a moment. “Had you thought of trying for a college position—English assistant, or something?” He watched Richard's face.

It flushed a little. “I want something that will take me into life. I've never known anything but the woods—and this.”

The Professor winced a little. “Well, journalism will take you into life, all right.” He remained thoughtful a moment. “Have you ever done anything at it?”

“I've done the college news for two papers and sent specials now and then. But that stands for nothing permanent.”

“It will do more for you than I can,” said the Professor. He had drawn a sheet of paper towards him. “How would you like Chicago?”

“All right.”

“You might as well have plenty of life while you're about it. I hear they hustle things out there. You won't think you're in the woods—or in college.” He had taken up his pen. “I have a friend on one of the dailies. I'll drop him a line.”

“Thank you, sir.” Richard stood up to go.

The Professor held out his hand. “That's all right. Bring around some of the letters you've done on the college. They'll help you more than anything I can say. I'll put them in when I write.”

title: One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 8


text:
One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 9

was dressed in a long cloak, grayish-brown, with gray hat and veil. Her tall figure loomed duskily in the back of the elevator. She was speaking to the elevator boy, who stood with his hand on the rope and slid-to the door as Derring entered.

“This is my reception afternoon, Tom. If visitors ask for me, you can show them directly to the studio.”

“Yes, Miss Gordon,” returned the boy.

“Third, please,” said Derring. His newspaper life was teaching him to think and act quickly. He must give her time to get at work. He stepped out at the third floor and the door was slammed behind him.

He could spend half an hour looking over the things on this floor. It would al] work in some time—if he were promoted, as he hoped to be. His position at present included a variety of work. He was liable to be called on to write a column on any subject—from bacteria and the Lake water, to Art and its outlook in Chicago. His column to-day was “The Private Studios Connected with the Art Institute.”

As he had turned the corner at Michigan Avenue he had caught sight of a roll of paper whirling lightly across the open space in front of the Institute. A woman in a gray cloak was battling with the wind and looking despairingly after the hurrying roll. It was the work of a moment for him to dart through the crowd of teams, rescue it, and receive murmured thanks from the gray veil.

Now, by the moment's chance in the elevator, he had learned that she was one of the artists he had come to interview. He would wait half an hour. Then he would look her up. She would at least be civil to him. It was a lucky chance.

She was seated with her back to the door, in the light of the north window. She turned her head from her work with a look of inquiry. The face was older than he had fancied through the folds of the veil.

She half rose from her seat, her hands full of brushes and color-tubes.

“Pray do not rise,” he said. “If you will kindly go on working, I shall feel less that I am intruding.”

He explained his errand and asked permission to look about the studio and take notes. He asked the permission very humbly. He had not accustomed himself to the idea that the public likes to be interviewed and written up. The slight hesitation with which she gave the permission seemed to him natural and fitting.

“In fact,” she said, smiling, “I suppose I ought to be glad to have you; it will advertise my work.”

She went on with her work and they carried on a desultory conversation. Derring wandered about the studio, taking notes and pausing here and there. A sudden exclamation caused her to look up. He had turned a water-color sketch to the light and was examining it.

“It is Ashton Pond?” he said.

“Yes. Do you know it?”

“My home is there. It seems strange to see it here—out of place.”

“I like to have it. It makes summer and the East nearer.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Do you go there?”

“I have spent the last three summers there,” she replied.

“And I have not been home for the last four. I've spent the vacations away.”

They fell to talking of mutual acquaintances and places of interest. She had heard of Seth Kinney and she knew the wood-road. The studio became to Derring a very homelike place. They two were shut in, alone, in the midst of the quiet. The great, practical city roared outside, but they did not hear it. He did not realize that she showed the tact of a woman of the world in guiding the conversation. It seemed to him spontaneous and natural.

When she fell silent he started in dismay, looking at his watch. “I am keeping you—and the article must be in by two.”

She gave him her hand at parting with the cordiality of an old friend.

As he hurried up Wabash Avenue pictures of the wood-road flitted before him. He heard the rustle of the leaves and saw the green moss and the trailing lines of partridge-berry. And in and out of the picture moved the figure of the artist—in its soft grays and browns. She fitted the scene; she was a part of it; yet when he tried to remember how she looked, he could not recall even the color of her eyes. She eluded his search, and in her stead he saw the sun shining through swaying leaves and falling on the vines and berries.

“Look out there!” The voice was loud and important.

Derring felt himself drawn swiftly back from the advancing cable car. He pulled himself together, with a word of thanks to the incensed policeman, and devoted himself in earnest to the dangers of the Madison and State Street crossing.

title: One Way of Love (Lee)/Chapter 9