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 Rh printers' meeting in Moscow in the presence of several members of the British labour delegates; he was, however obliged to hide after this speech, as it has made the Extraordinary Commission (Cheka) very angry, and they wanted to arrest him. They could not find him, and arrested instead his wife and daughters, aged 10 and 17 years.

5. Comrade Abramovich, member of the central committee of the socialist-democratic party, welcomed the British labour delegation at a meeting of the Moscow Soviet. In his speech he pointed out the actual condition of the Russian labour classes under the bolshevik yoke, and was in consequence, through intrigues and pressure from the Russian communist party, expelled from the soviet.

We are in possession of many other similar facts, but it would take too long to state them all here. We think that the above facts are quite sufficient proof that there is no freedom in soviet Russia, and that even the socialist parties can not propagate their ideas legally and unrestrictedly.

We feel we must put the following questions to the British workmen and to you, members of the British labour delegation. Do you know these facts? ''If you do, what do you intend to do in order to alleviate the sufferings of these Russian socialists who were bold enough to tell you the entire truth about Russia? Don't you consider that you are also responsible for their misfortunes and sufferings?''

We, the adherents of the socialists who are being so severely persecuted by the Russian communist party ruling in Russia under the disguise of the soviet government, think you can not and must not be indifferent to the actual results of your policy.

We are deeply convinced that in protesting against the blockade and intervention the British proletariat was prompted by noble motivesthe British workmen meant to support the cause of the Russian democracy, the cause


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Rh that direct personal influence over the ruler often passed into the hands of men whose duties were in name connected only with the daily life of the palace. From the third century onwards the Eastern custom of choosing eunuchs as the most trusted servants prevailed in the imperial household as in the private households of the wealthy. The greatest of these was the praepositus sacri cubiculi or Great Chamberlain. This officer often wielded the power which had been enjoyed by such men as Parthenius had been under Domitian. The office grew in importance, as measured by dignity and precedence, until in the time of Theodosius the Great it was one of four high offices which conferred on their holders membership of the Imperial Council (Consistorium), and a little later was made equal in honour to the other three. The "Palatine" servants, high and low, formed a mighty host, which required a special department for their provisioning and another for their tendance in sickness. But exactly how many of them were under the immediate direction (sub dispositione) of the praepositus sacri cubiculi cannot be determined. Some duties fell to him which are hardly suggested by his title. He was in control of the emperor's select and intimate bodyguard, which bore the name of silentiarii, thirty in number, with three decuriones for officers. Curiously, he superintended one division of the vast imperial domains, that considerable portion of them which lay within the province of Cappadocia. Dependent probably on the praepositus sacri cubiculi was the primicerius sacri cubiculi, who appears in the Notitia Dignitatum as possessing the quality of a pro- consular. Whether the castrensis sacri palatii was independent or subordinate, cannot be determined. Under his rule were a host of pages and lower menials of many kinds, and he had to care for the fabric of the imperial palaces. Also he had charge of the private archives of the imperial family.

The service of the officers described was rather personal to the emperor than public in character. We now turn to the civil and military administration as it was refashioned under the new monarchy. The chaos of the period preceding Diocletian's supremacy had finally effaced some of the leading features of the Augustan Principate which had become fainter and fainter as the Empire ran its course. The Senate lost the last remnant of real power. Such of its surviving privileges and dignities as might carry back the mind to the days of its glory were mere shadows without substance. All provinces had become imperial. All functionaries of every class owed obedience to the autocrat alone, and looked to him for their career. The old state-treasury, the aerarium, retained its name, but became in practice the municipal exchequer of Rome, which ceased to be the capital of the Empire and was merely the first of its municipalities. The army and the civil service alike were filled with officers whose titles and duties would have seemed strange to a Roman of the second century of the Empire.

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 66 of the great Russian revolution. If they did mean so, they must understand that the struggle against the world's reactionaries must go hand in hand with the struggle for the principles of the Russian democracy.

''You denounce the blockade, the intervention and the counter-revolution. But you must also denounce the slavery that has been introduced into Russia by the Russian communist party. Only then will the Russian working classes consider you their real friends. …''

You have interfered in Russian domestic affairs by your struggle against the blockade, against support of the counter-revolution, and for the recognition of the soviet government. Your intervention was and is one-sided. You supported the soviet government, but you did not support the Russian proletariat and peasantry who fought against the despotism of the soviet government during all these terrible years. …

Some thirty days after this original appeal was issued the Social Democratic Party followed it up with a second appeal showing that the persecutions, instead of becoming milder, had become worse, especially under the Soviet Government set up by Moscow in the Ukraine under the leadership of Lenin's right bower, Rakovsky. This Ukraine persecution seems to have been aimed mainly and almost exclusively at the labor unions. The Social-Democratic Labor Party portrays it in the following convincing paragraphs:

With the object of the suppression of the social-democratic labor party, the bolsheviks have invented a new weapon, which was used for the first time by H. T. Rakovsky. The so-called Ukrainian government ordered the exile to the Georgian borders, without any trial, of seventeen of the most energetic leaders of the Russian social-democratic labor party in the Ukraine. Amongst


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40 tion between the time of Augustus and that of the Severi, it was not such as to throw out of gear the taxation and the commerce of the Empire. But with Caracalla a rapid decline set in, and by the time of Aurelian the disorganisation had gone so far that practically gold and silver were demonetised, and copper became the standard medium of exchange. The principal coin that professed to be silver had come to contain no more than five per cent of that metal, and this proportion sank afterwards to two per cent. What a government gains by making its payments in corrupted coin always far more than lost in the revenue which it receives. The debasement of the coinage means a lightening of taxation, and it is never possible to enhance the nominal amount receivable by the exchequer so as to keep pace with the depreciation. The effect of this in the Roman Empire was greater than it would have been at an earlier time, since there is reason to believe that much of the revenue formerly payable in kind had been transmuted into money. A measure of Aurelian had the effect of multiplying by eight such taxes as were to be paid in coin. As the chief (professing) silver coin had twenty years earlier contained eight times as much silver as it had then come to contain, he claimed that he was only exacting what was justly due, but his subjects naturally cried out against his tyranny. No greater proof of the disorganisation of the whole financial system could be given than lies in the fact that the treasury issued sackloads (folles) of the Antoniani, first coined by Caracalla, which were intended to be silver, but were now all but base metal only. These folles passed from hand to hand unopened.

Diocletian's attempts to remove these mischiefs were not altogether fortunate. He made experiment after experiment, aiming at that stability of the currency which had, on the whole, prevailed for two centuries after the reforms of Augustus, but never reaching it. Finally, discovering that the last change he had made led to general raising of prices, he issued the celebrated edict of A.D. 301 by which the charges for all commodities were fixed, the penalty for transgression being death.

Constantine was forced to handle afresh the tangled problem of the currency. The task was rendered especially difficult by the fresh debasement of coinage which was perpetrated by Maxentius while he was supreme in Italy. It may be said at once that the goal of Diocletian's efforts was never reached by Constantine. He did indeed alter the weight of the gold piece, which now received the name of solidus, and it continued in circulation, practically unchanged, for centuries. But this gold piece was to all intents and purposes not a coin, for when payments were made in it, they were reckoned by weight. The solidus was in effect only a bit of bullion, the fineness of which was conveniently guaranteed by the imperial stamp. The same is true of Constantine's silver pieces. The only coins which could be paid and received by their number,


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 Rh them, are the members of the central Ukrainian committees of the social-democratic party—comrades I. Bar (former editor of the internationalist journal, "Golos," in Paris during the war), Zorohovitch, Shtern, A. Roubtzoff (a well-known leader of the trade union movement amongst the metal workers), Schoulpin (leader of the Miners' trade union), and a member of the Kharkoff party committee, Boris Malkin. Ten other comrades were sentenced at the same time, also without any trial, to forced labor in the concentration camps, until "the end of the civil war" (i.e., indefinitely). Among them are the well-known social-democratic leader and trade unionist, Astroff, the trade unionist, Korobkoff from Odessa, members of the Kieff party committee, Tchijevsky and Kouchin-Oransky (the latter, a well-known socialist author, had voluntarily joined the ranks of the "Red" army as an officer at the beginning of the Polish war), and the distinguished leaders of the Kharkoff shop assistants' union of Babin and Grossman.

Most of the above mentioned comrades were arrested in Kharkoff on August 19, during the provincial conference of the Russian social-democratic labor party.

Several social-democrats, leaders of the trade union movement in Kremenchug, were also exiled to Georgia. The boards elected by the Kremenchug trade unions have been dissolved and replaced by persons appointed by local organizations of the communist party.

By such measures H. T. Rakovsky, who plays the hideous part of a menshevist renegade, hopes to destroy the influence of the well-organized social-democrats upon the Ukrainian working classes.

The fate of the other popular party (the Social-Revolutionists) has been even more horrible—for they composed the majority of the constitutional assembly which the Bolshevists dispersed by bayonets and are the sole party which can make any legitimate claim to represent the


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50 and so even women who had inherited from a senator had to supply money for such purposes. Rich men of course exceeded the minimum largely with a view to display. The old privilege still attached to Rome of receiving com from Africa. Diocletian divided Italy into two districts, of which the northern (annonarta regio) paid tribute for support of the Court at Milan, while the southern (dioecesis Romae, or suburbicaria regio) supplied wine, cattle, and some other necessaries for the capital.

Senators as such and the senatorius ordo were subject to special taxation, as well as the ordinary taxation of the provinces (with exception perhaps of the aurum coronarium). The follis senatorius was a particular tax on senatorial lands, and even a landless senator had to pay something. The aurum oblaiicium, already mentioned, was specially burdensome.

The most important officer connected with the Senate was the Praefectus urbi. His office had grown steadily in importance during the whole existence of the Empire. From the time of Constantine its holder was vir illustris. He was the only high official of the Empire who continued to wear the toga and not the military garb. He was at the head of the Senate and was the intermediary between that body and the emperor. The powers of his office were extraordinary. The members of the Senate resident in Rome were under his criminal jurisdiction. There was an appeal to him from all the lesser functionaries who dealt with legal matters in the first instance, not only in the capital, but in a district extending 100 miles in every direction. His control spread over every department of business. He was the chief guardian of public security and had the cohortes urbanae, as well as the praefectus vigilum under his command. The provisioning of the city was an important part of his duty, and the praefectus annonae acted under his orders. A whole army of officials, many of them bearing titles which would have been strange to the Republic and early Empire, assisted him in looking after the water-supply, controlling trade and the markets, and the traffic on the river, in maintaining the river banks, in taking account of the property of senators and in many other departments of affairs. It is difficult to say how far his position was affected by the presence in the city of a Corrector, and a Vicarius of the Praefectus Praetorio. The material welfare of Rome was at least abundantly cared for by the new monarchy. The city had already grown accustomed to the loss of dignity caused by the residence of the emperors in cities more convenient for the purposes of government. But the foundation of Constantinople must have been a heavy blow. The institutions of the old Rome were to a great extent copied in the new. There was a Senate subject to the same obligations as in Rome. Most of the magistracies were repeated. But until 359 no Praefectus urbi seems to have existed at Constantinople. Elaborate arrangements were made for placing the


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A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its floor.

The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of an installment of night which had taken up its place before its astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky. Looking upwards, a furze-cutter would have been inclined to continue work; looking down, he would have decided to finish his faggot and go home. The distant rims of the world and of the firmament seemed to be a division in time no less than a division in matter. The face of the heath by its mere complexion added half an hour to evening; it could in like manner retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning of storms scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight to a cause of shaking and dread.

In fact, precisely at this transitional point of its nightly roll into darkness the great and particular glory of the Egdon waste began, and nobody could be said to understand the heath who had not been there at such a time. It could best be felt when it could not clearly be seen, its complete effect and explanation lying in this and the succeeding hours before the next dawn: then, and only then, did it tell its true tale. The spot was, indeed, a near relation of night, and when night showed itself an apparent tendency to gravitate together could be perceived in its


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 shades and the scene. The somber stretch of rounds and hollows seemed to rise and meet the evening gloom in pure sympathy, the heath exhaling darkness as rapidly as the heavens precipitated it. And so the obscurity in the air and the obscurity in the land closed together in a black fraternization towards which each advanced half-way.

The place became full of a watchful intentness now; for when other things sank brooding to sleep the heath appeared slowly to awake and listen. Every night its Titanic form seemed to await something; but it had waited thus, unmoved, during so many centuries, through the crises of so many things, that it could only be imagined to await one last crisis—the final overthrow.

HE portentous organ-point sounded by these superb strophes, already recognized as ranking among the noblest descriptive prose pieces in our language, may with doubled fitness accompany and echo through a recital of the earliest events in Hardy's life.

Not only does it determine the mood of The Return of the Native , not only does it reveal the prevailing spiritual tone of the whole of the Wessex Kingdom; it also suggests the dominating character of the particular terrain which first entered the vision of the poet. For it was on the very edge of a heath like Egdon that the house in which he was born was situated. It still stands there.

Puddletown Heath and Bockhampton Heath were united to make an Egdon. And it was at Higher or Upper Bockhampton, about three miles to the north of Dorchester, that Hardy's father carried on his trade of general builder for the community. Here it was that Thomas Hardy issued forth from the womb of the Heath, of Time, and of his mother, and drew in his first breath


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58 (catapkracti) and upon the ramparts archers were stationed. On a midsummer morning, probably in the year 344 (possibly 348), the struggle began. At midday the Persians feigned flight in the direction of their camp, hoping that thus their horsemen would charge upon an enemy disorganised by long pursuit. It was already evening when the Romans drew near the fortifications. Constantius gave orders to halt until the dawn of the new day; but the burning heat of the sun had caused a raging thirst, the springs lay within the Persian camp and the troops with little experience of their Emperor’s generalship refused to obey his commands and resumed the attack. Clubbing the enemy’s cavalry, they stormed the palisades. Sapor fled for his life to the Tigris, while the heir to his throne was captured and put to death. As night fell, the victors turned to plunder and excess, and under cover of the darkness the Persian fugitives re-formed and won back their camp. But success came too late ; their confidence was broken and with the morning the retreat began.

Turning to the history of the West after the meeting of the Augusti in 338, it would appear that Constantine forthwith claimed an authority superior to that of his co-rulers; he even legislated for Africa although this province fell within the jurisdiction of Constans. The latter, how- ever, soon asserted his complete independence of his elder brother and in autumn (338 ?) after a victory on the Danube assumed the title of Sarmaticus. At this time (339) he probably sought to enlist the support of Constantius, surrendering to the latter Thrace and Constantinople. Disappointed of his hopes, it would seem that the ruler of the West now demanded for himself both Italy and Africa. Early in 340 he suddenly crossed the Alps and at Aquileia rashly engaged the advanced guard of Constans who had marched from Naissus in Dacia, where news had reached him of his brother’s attack. Constantine falling into an ambush perished, and Constans was now master of Britain, Spain, and the Gauls (before 9 April 340). He proved himself a terror to the barbarians and a general of untiring energy who travelled incessantly, making light of extremes of heat and cold. In 341 and 342 he drove back an inroad of the Franks and compelled that restless tribe “for whom inaction was a confession of weakness” to conclude a peace: he dis- regarded the perils of the English Channel in winter, and in January 343 crossed from Boulogne to Britain, perhaps to repel the Piets and Scots. His rule is admitted to have been at the outset vigorous and just, but the promise of his early years was not maintained : his exactions grew more intolerable, his private vices more shameless, while his favourites were allowed to violate the laws with impunity. It would seem, however, to have been his unconcealed contempt for the army which caused his


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text: Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/Gloomy Winter's now awa'


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361] to Julian. Germanianus temporarily performed the praefect’s duties but retired in favour of Sallust, while Nevitta was created magister armorum and Jovius quaestor.

As soon as he was freed from the Persian War, Constantius had thought to hunt down his usurping Caesar and capture his prey while Julian was still in Gaul ; he had set guards about the frontiers and had stored com on the Lake of Constance and in the neighbourhood of the Cottian Alps. Julian determined that he would not wait to be surrounded, but would strike the first blow, while the greater part of the army of Illyricum was still in Asia. He argued that present daring might deliver Sirmium into his hands, that thereupon he could seize the Pass of Succi, and thus be master of the road to the West. Jovius and Jovinus were ordered to advance at full speed through North Italy, in command, it would appear, of a squadron of cavalry. They would thus surprise the inhabitants into submission, while fear of the main army, which would follow more slowly, might overawe opposition. Nevitta he commanded to make bis way through Rhaetia Mediterranea, while he himself left Basel with but a small escort and struck direct through the Black Forest for the Danube. Here he seized the vessels of the river fleet, and at once embarked his men. Without rest or intermission Julian continued the voyage down the river, and reached Bononia on the eleventh day. Under the cover of night, Dagalaiphus with some picked followers was despatched to Sirmium. At dawn his troop was demanding admission in the Emperor's name ; only when too late was the discovery made that the Emperor was not Constantius. The general Lucilianus, who had already begun the leisurely concentra- tion of his men for an advance into Gaul, was rudely aroused from sleep and hurried away to Bononia. The gates of Sirmium, the northern capital of the Empire, were opened and the inhabitants poured forth to greet the victor of Strassburg. Two days only did Julian spend in the city, then marched to Succi, left Nevitta to guard the pass and retired to Naissus, where he spent the winter awaiting the arrival of his army. Julian’s march from Gaul meant the final breach with Constantius; his present task was to justify his usurpation to the world. Thus the imperial pamphleteer was born. One apologia followed another, now addressed to the senate, now to Athens as representing the historic centre of Hellenism, now to some city whose allegiance Julian sought to win. But he overshot the mark; the painting of the character of Constantius men felt to be a caricature and the scandalous portraiture unworthy of one who owed his advancement to his cousin’s favours. Meanwhile Julian strained every nerve to raise more troops for the coming campaign. He was not yet strong enough to advance into Thrace to meet the forces under Count Martianus, and the news from the West forced him to realise how critical his position might become.


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text: Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/Despairing Mary


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Despairing Mary

 * "Despairing Mary" in Caladonia (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
 * "Despairing Mary" in Four Scottish songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
 * "Despairing Mary" in Beneath the Willow Tree (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
 * "Despairing Mary" in Cream of Tannahill's Songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
 * "Despairing Mary" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw

title: Despairing Mary


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337-361] Christians to pagans at the close of the second decade of the fourth century, but it may be assumed that, when their organisation is taken into account, they were able to control public opinion in the most populous and important provinces of the Empire. All he had to do “was to let the leading provinces have the religion they desired” ; the rest of the Empire would follow in their wake. He was content to adopt the principle of toleration; though for himself Christianity became more and more the one religion in which “crowning reverence is observed towards the holiest powers of heaven.” He probably carried the public opinion of the Empire with him. The paganism of the fourth century was for the most part quiet and desired only to be left in peace. Perhaps Ammianus MarceUinus, himself a pagan, expressed the general opinion of his co-religionists when he praised the Emperor Valentinian because he tolerated all creeds, gave no orders that any one divinity should be worshipped, and did not strive to bend the necks of his subjects to adore what he did.

The sons of Constantine changed all this. They proposed to destroy paganism by legislation. Their laws, doubtless, inflicted much injury on individual pagans, and, in the hands of such unprincipled Imperial sycophants as Paulus and Mercurius, were the pretexts for many executions, banishments, and confiscation of goods; but they remained inoperative in all the greater pagan centres. The worship of the gods went on as before in Rome, Alexandria, Heliopolis, and in many other cities. But they could not fail to irritate. If the laws were inoperative, they remained to threaten. Proposed destruction of temples and prohibition of heathen ceremonies meant in many cases the abandonment of the games and spectacles to which the careless multitude were strongly attached. Scholars saw in the advancing power of the Church the destruction of the old learning which gave its charm to their lives. Christianity itself, troubled by the meddling of the heads of the State, seemed to be rent in pieces by its controversies, to have lost its original purity and simplicity, and to have degenerated into “old-wife superstitions” (Ammianus). So wherever paganism abounded, and in places too where it only lingered, there was a general feeling of discontent ready to welcome the first signs of a reaction and eagerly listening to whispers that the last of the race of Constantine, if he lived to assume to the Imperial purple, would undo what his kinsmen had accomplished.

At the death of Constantine his nephew, Flavius Claudius Julianus, was six years old. The child escaped, almost by accident, the massacre of his family connived at if not ordered by Constantius. He lived for more than twenty years in constant peril, in the power of that suspicious cousin who scarcely knew whether he wished to slay or to spare him. He was kept secluded, now in one or other of the great cities of the East, for long in a palace far from the haunts of men, solacing himself with hard uninterrupted studies. Then for seven brief years he startled


text: Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/O are ye sleeping, Maggie


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325-363] the same in East and West. Eastern conservatism inherited its doctrine from the age of subordination theories, and dreaded the Nicene definition as needless and dangerous. But the Westerns had no great interest in the question and could scarcely even translate its technical terms into Latin, and in any case their minds were much more legal than the Greek; so they simply fell back on the authority of the Great Council. Shortly, "East and West were alike conservative; but while conservatism in the East went behind the council, in the West it was content to start from it."

The Eastern reaction was therefore mainly conservative. The Arians were the tail of the party; they were not outcasts only because conservative hesitation at the Nicene Creed kept open the back door of the Church for them. For thirty years they had to shelter themselves behind the conservatives. It was not till 357 that they ventured to have a policy of their own; and then they broke up the anti-Nicene coalition at once. The strength of Arianism was that while it claimed to be Christian, it brought together and to their logical results all the elements of heathenism in the current Christian thought. So the reaction rested not only on conservative timidity, but on the heathen influences around. And heathenism was still a living power in the world, strong in numbers, and still stronger in the imposing memories of history. Christianity was still an upstart on Caesar's throne, and no man could yet be sure that victory would not sway back to the side of the immortal gods. So the Nicene age was pre-eminently an age of waverers; and every waverer leaned to Arianism as a via media between Christianity and heathenism. The Court also leaned to Arianism. The genuine Arians indeed were not more pliant than the Nicenes; but conservatives are always open to the influence of a Court, and the intriguers of the Court (and under Constantius they were legion) found it their interest to unsettle the Nicene decisions—in the name of conservatism forsooth. To put it shortly, the Arians could have done nothing without a formidable mass of conservative discontent behind them, and the conservatives would have been equally helpless if the Court had not supplied them with the means of action. The ultimate power lay with the majority, which was at present conservative, while the initiative rested with the Court, which leaned on Asia, so that the reaction went on as long as both were agreed against the Nicene doctrine. It was suspended when Julian's policy turned another way, became unreal when conservative alarm subsided, and came to an end when Asia went over to the Nicenes.

The contest (325-381) falls into two main periods, separated by the Council of Constantinople in 360, when the success of the reaction seemed complete. We have also halts of importance at the return of Athanasius in 346 and the death of Julian in 363. The first period is a fight in the dark, as Socrates calls it, but upon


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Rh for the reinstatement in clerical rank of Novatianist clergy willing to be reconciled with the Church, the arrangement was subject always to the maintenance of the principle that there should not be “two bishops in the city.” The very rivalries between different claimants of one episcopal throne serve to bring out the same result—witness the earliest instances of pope and anti-pope of which we have documentary knowledge, those of Cornelius and Novatian in 251, and of Liberius and Felix about 357. In the latter case Constantius, with a politician’s eye to compromise, recommended the joint recognition of both claimants: but the Roman people—Theodoret, to whose History we owe the details, is careful to note that he has recorded the very language used—saluted the reading of the rescript in the circus with the mocking cry that two leaders would do very well for the factions at the games, but that there could be only “one God, one Christ, one bishop.” Exactly the same reason had been given a century earlier in almost the same words, by the Roman confessors when writing to Cyprian, for their abandonment of Novatian and adhesion to Cornelius: “we are not unaware that there is one God, and one Christ the Lord whom we have confessed, one Holy Spirit, and therefore only one true bishop in the communion of the Catholic Church.” Both in East and West, in the largest cities as well as in the smallest, the society of the faithful was conceived of as an indivisible unit; and its oneness was expressed in the person of its one bishop. The παροικία of Christians in any locality was not like a hive of bees, which, when numbers multiplied inconveniently, could throw off a part of the whole, to be henceforward a complete and independent organism under separate control. The necessity for new organisation had to be met in some way which would preserve at all costs the oneness of the body and its head.

It followed that the work and duties which the individual bishop could no longer perform in person must be shared with, or deputed to, subordinate officials. New offices came into being in the course especially of the third century, and the growth of this clerus or clergy, and its gradual acquisition during the fourth and fifth centuries of the character of a hierarchy nicely ordered in steps and degrees, is a feature of ecclesiastical history of which the importance has not always been adequately realised.

Of such a hierarchy the germs had no doubt existed from the beginning; and indeed presbyters and deacons were, as we have seen, older component parts of the local communities than were the bishops themselves. In the Ignatian theory bishop, presbyters, and deacons are the three universal elements of organisation, “without which nothing can be called a church” (ad Trail. 3). And the distinction between the two subordinate orders, in their original scope and intention, was just the distinction between the two sides of clerical office which in the bishop were in some sort combined, the spiritual and the administrative:


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Rh Calvert did not look like a runner. He was a >od two inches shorter than Hugh, who lacked arly that much of six feet. Calvert was heavily ilt—a dark, brawny chap, both quick and powerl. Hugh looked at him and for a moment hated m. Although he did not phrase it so—in fact, did not phrase it at all—Calvert was his obstacle his race for redemption. Calvert won the hundred-yard dash in ten i:onds flat, breaking the Sanford-Raleigh record, ugh, running faster than he ever had in his life, rely managed to come in second ahead of his im-mate Murphy. The Sanford men cheered n lustily, but he hardly listened. He had to win 2 two-twenty. At last the runners were called to the startingie. They danced up and down the track flexing bir muscles. Hugh was tense but more deterened than nervous. Calvert pranced around ort in the hundred. Finally the starter called L*m to their marks. They tried their spikes in h starting-holes, scraped them out a bit more,
 * ily; he seemed entirely recovered from his great
 * de a few trial dashes, and finally knelt in line at

I: command of the starter. Hugh expected Calvert to lead for the first hun:d yards; but the last hundred, that was where ilvert would weaken. Calvert was sure to be ?ad at the beginning—but after that!


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254 the drums beat on—boom, boom, boom, boom. . . A boy and girl sought a dark corner. He shield her with his body while she took a drink from flask. Then he turned his face to the corner ai drank. A moment later they were back on tl floor, holding each other tight, drunkenly swa ing. . . Finally the last strains, a wail of agony“Ev-’ry one knows that I’m just Sec-ond-hai Rose—from Sec-ond Av-en-ue.”

The couples moved slowly off the floor, tl pounding of the drums still in their ears and in the blood; some of them sought the fraternity booth some of the girls retired to their dressing-roor perhaps to have another drink; many of the m< went outside for a smoke and to tip a flask upwar Through the noise, the sex-madness, the hal drunken dancers, moved men and women qui sober, the men vainly trying to shield the worm from contact with any one who was drunk. The] was an angry light in those men’s eyes, but most < them said nothing, merely kept close to their p.ar ners, ready to defend them from any too asserti friend.

Again the music, again the tom-tom of the drum On and on for hours. A man “passed out cole and had to be carried from the gymnasium. A gi got a “laughing jag” and shrieked with idiot laughter until her partner managed to lead her pr testing off the floor. On and on, the constai


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142 clearly outlined with color as a doll’s and as mobile as a fluttering leaf. She had wide blue eyes and hair that was truly golden. Strangely, she had not bobbed it but wore it bound into a shining coil around her head.

Hugh wrote a poem to her. It began thus:

Maiden with the clear blue eyes, Lady with the golden hair, Exquisite child, serenely wise, Sweetly tender, morning fair.

He wasn’t sure that it was a very good poem; there was something reminiscent about the first line, and he was dubious about “morning fair.” He had, however, studied German for a year in high school, and he guessed that if morgenschon was all right in German it was all right in English, too.

They rarely talked. Hugh was content to sit for hours with the delicate child nestling in his arm, her hand lying passive and cool in his. She made him feel very strong and protective. Nights, he dreamed of doing brave deeds for her, of saving her from terrible dangers. At first her vague, fleeting kisses thrilled him, but as the weeks went by and his passion grew, he found them strangely unsatisfying.

When she cuddled her lovely head in the hollow


text: Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/Rab Roryson's Bonnet


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 of the Corpus Juris, etc.; asking him where such and such a passage occurs, and how it agrees with some other passage? if he knows of any writer who holds a different opinion, and who that writer is? What arguments he brings to bear, and how the contradictory views may be reconciled? with other similar questions. A practical examination should then follow. Various cases of conscience, of disease, and of law should be submitted to the candidate, and he should be asked what course of action he would pursue, and why? He should thus be examined with regard to a number of cases, until it is evident that he has an intelligent and thorough grasp of his subject. Surely, students who knew that they were to be publicly examined with such severity, would be stimulated to great industry.

14. There is no need to say anything about travel (to which we assigned a place in this last period of six years, or at its conclusion), except to remark that we are at one with Plato, who forbade the young to travel until the hot-headedness of youth had passed away, and they were sufficiently versed in the ways of the world to do so with advantage.

15. It is scarcely necessary to point out how useful a School of Schools or Didactic College would be, in whatever part of the world it were founded. Even if it be vain to hope for the actual foundation of such a college, the desired result might still be brought about, existing institutions being left as they are, if learned men would work together, and in this way seek to promote the glory of God. These men should make it the object of their associated labours to thoroughly establish the foundations of the sciences, to spread the light of wisdom throughout the human race with greater success than has hitherto been attained, and to benefit humanity by new and useful inventions; for, unless we wish to remain stationary or to lose ground, we must take care that our successful beginnings lead to further advances. For this no single man and no single generation is sufficient, and it is therefore essential that the work be carried on by many, working together


text:
Rab Roryson's Bonnet

 * "Rab Roryson's Bonnet" in Cream of Tannahill's Songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow

title: Rab Roryson's Bonnet


text: Talk:Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Owl and the Pussy-Cat


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Rh

,

, concurring.

, concurring in part and dissenting in part.

I join all but Part IV of the Court’s opinion.

Political speech is entitled to robust protection under the First Amendment. Section 203 of the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act of 2002 (BCRA) has never been reconcilable with that protection. By striking down §203, the Court takes an important first step toward restoring full constitutional protection to speech that is “indispensable to the effective and intelligent use of the processes of popular government.” McConnell v. Federal Election Comm’n, 540 U. S. 93, 265 (2003) (, J., concurring in part, concurring in judgment in part, and dissenting in part) (internal quotation marks omitted). I dissent from Part IV of the Court’s opinion, however, because the Court’s constitutional analysis does not go far enough. The disclosure, disclaimer, and reporting requirements in BCRA §§201 and 311 are also unconstitutional. See id., at 275–277, and n. 10.

Congress may not abridge the “right to anonymous speech” based on the “ ‘simple interest in providing voters with additional relevant information,’ ” id., at 276 (quoting McIntyre v. Ohio Elections Comm’n, 514 U. S. 334, 348 (1995)). In continuing to hold otherwise, the Court misapprehends the import of “recent events” that some amici


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 and employing the researches of their predecessors as a starting-point. This Universal College, therefore, will bear the same relation to other schools that the belly bears to the other members of the body; since it will be a kind of workshop, supplying blood, life, and strength to all.

16. But we must return to our subject and say what remains to be said about our schools.


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1. have now spoken at length on the necessity of reforming schools and on the methods by which this reformation can be effected. It will not be amiss if we give a brief summary of our ideals and of the means we have proposed for their realisation.

2. Our desire is that the art of teaching be brought to such perfection that there will be as much difference between the old system and the new, as there is between the old method of multiplying books by the pen and the new method introduced by the printing-press; that is to say, the art of printing, though difficult, costly, and complicated, can reproduce books with greater speed, accuracy, and artistic effect, than was formerly possible; and, in the same way, my new method, though its difficulties may be somewhat alarming at first, will produce a greater number of scholars and will give them a better education as well as more pleasure in the process of acquiring it, than did the old lack of method.

3. It is easy to imagine how impracticable the first attempts of the inventor of printing must have appeared, in comparison with the simple use of the pen; but the event showed of what great use the invention was. For, firstly, by means of a printing-machine two youths can now produce more copies of a book than could have been written by two hundred in the same time.


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 Secondly, manuscript copies differ in the number and size of their pages, and the individual lines do not correspond to one another; while printed copies are as like to their original as one egg is like to another, and this is a great advantage.

Thirdly, it is impossible to tell if manuscripts are correct without revising them and comparing them accurately with the original, and this is a laborious and wearisome task. But in the case of printed books the correction of one proof ensures the accuracy of thousands of copies. This would seem incredible to any one unacquainted with printing, but is nevertheless true.

Fourthly, only firm and stiff paper is suitable to write on, but printing is possible on thin and flimsy paper, or on linen.

Finally, it is possible for men who are unable to write to be the most excellent printers; since it is not with their fingers that they carry out the operation, but by means of skilfully arranged type that cannot err.

4. Similar results might be obtained if this new and comprehensive method of teaching were properly organised (for as yet the universal method exists only in expectation and not in reality), since (1) a smaller number of masters would be able to teach a greater number of pupils than under the present system. (2) These pupils would be more thoroughly taught; (3) and the process would be refined and pleasant. (4) The system is equally efficacious with stupid and backward boys. (5) Even masters who have no natural aptitude for teaching will be able to use it with advantage; since they will not have to select their own subject-matter and work out their own method, but will only have to take knowledge that has already been suitably arranged and for the teaching of which suitable appliances have been provided, and to pour it into their pupils. An organist can read any piece of music from his notes, though he might not be able to compose it or to sing or play it from memory; and a school-master, in the same way, should be able to teach anything, if he have


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 THE MEETING.

I press'd her to my beating heart, My tears drapt on her lovely face.

Engraved from Colquhoun's Collection of Scotch Songs.

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 before his eyes the subject-matter and the method by which it should be taught.

5. Pursuing this analogy to the art of printing, we will show, by a more detailed comparison, the true nature of this new method of ours, since it will thus be made evident that knowledge can be impressed on the mind, in the same way that its concrete form can be printed on paper. In fact, we might adapt the term “typography” and call the new method of teaching “didachography.” But this conception we will analyse at length.

6. The art of printing involves certain materials and processes. The materials consist of the paper, the type, the ink, and the press. The processes consist of the preparation of the paper, the setting up and inking of the type, the correction of the proof, and the impression and drying of the copies. All this must be carried out in accordance with certain definite rules, the observance of which will ensure a successful result.

7. In didachography (to retain this term) the same elements are present. Instead of paper, we have pupils whose minds have to be impressed with the symbols of knowledge. Instead of type, we have the class-books and the rest of the apparatus devised to facilitate the operation of teaching. The ink is replaced by the voice of the master, since this it is that conveys information from the books to the minds of the listener; while the press is school-discipline, which keeps the pupils up to their work and compels them to learn.

8. Any kind of paper can be used, but the cleaner it is, the better it will receive the impress of the type. In the same way, our method can deal with any class of intelligence, but succeeds best with talented pupils.

9. There is a great analogy between the type and the class-books (that our method requires). Firstly, the type have to be cast and polished, before books can be printed; and in the same way the necessary apparatus must be provided before we can begin to use the new method.

10. A considerable quantity of type is required to


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 print a whole work, and the same thing holds good of class-books and teaching apparatus; since it is irritating, tedious, and fatal to good teaching to begin and then to be compelled to leave off through lack of the proper appliances.

11. A well-managed printing-press is supplied with all kinds of type, and is thus equal to every demand that can be made upon it; and, similarly, our class-books must contain everything necessary for a thorough education, that there may be no one who by their aid cannot learn whatever should be learned.

12. The type are not left in confusion, but are neatly arranged in boxes that they may be ready to hand when needed. Similarly, our class-books do not present their subject-matter to the pupil in a confused mass, but split it up into sections, allotting so much to a year, a month, a day, and an hour.

13. Only those type which are needed at the minute are taken from the type-cases; the rest remain undisturbed. Similarly, no books but those intended for his class should be given to a boy; others would only confuse and distract him.

14. Finally, type-setters use a straight edge which helps them to arrange the words in lines, and the lines in columns, and prevents any part from getting out of place. In the same way the instructors of the young should have standard or model to aid them in their work; that is to say, guide-books should be written for their use, and these should tell them what to do on each occasion, and should preclude the possibility of error.

15. There will, therefore, be two kinds of class-books, those that contain the subject-matter and are intended for the pupils, and guide-books to assist the teacher to handle his subject properly.

16. As we have already remarked, it is the voice of the teacher that corresponds to the ink used in printing. If it be attempted to use type when they are dry, nothing but a faint and evanescent mark is made on the paper, in


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 JAMIE WI' HIS TARTAN PLAID.

When started ben, wi spunky sten, Like ony highland laird array'd.

Engraved for Colquhoun's Collection of Scotch Songs

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 contrast to the firm and almost indelible impression that results when they have been inked. Similarly, the instruction that boys receive from books, those dumb teachers, is obscure and imperfect, but when it is supplemented by the voice of the teacher (who explains everything in a manner suitable to his hearers), it becomes vivid and makes a deep impression on their minds, so that they really understand what they learn and are conscious that they understand it. Again, printing-ink differs from writing-ink, since it is made, not with water, but with oil (indeed, those who want a very superior ink, use the finest oil and the best charcoal); and, similarly, the voice of a teacher who can teach persuasively and clearly should sink like oil into the pupils’ minds and carry information with it.

17. Finally, the function of the press in printing is performed in schools by discipline, which is in itself sufficiently powerful to ensure that no pupil shirk his studies. Every sheet of paper that is to form part of a book must pass through the press (hard paper needing more, and soft paper less pressure); and, similarly, whoever wishes to learn at a school must be subjected to its discipline. There are three grades of discipline: firstly, perpetual watchfulness; for since we can never put implicit faith in the diligence or innocence of boys (are they not Adam’s brood?) we must keep them continually under our eyes. Secondly, blame, by which those who leave the beaten path must be recalled to the way of reason and obedience. Finally, punishment, which must be employed if exhortation have no effect. All discipline, however, must be used with prudence and with no other object than to induce the pupils to do all their work well.

18. I said that certain processes were necessary, and that these had to be carried out in a certain definite manner. This point deserves a brief investigation.

19. If a certain number of copies of a book is to be printed, that number of sheets is taken at once and printed from the same block, and from each successive block, from the beginning to the end of the book, the same number of


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Rh

,

, with whom joins, concurring.

The Government urges us in this case to uphold a direct prohibition on political speech. It asks us to embrace a theory of the First Amendment that would allow censorship not only of television and radio broadcasts, but of pamphlets, posters, the Internet, and virtually any other medium that corporations and unions might find useful in expressing their views on matters of public concern. Its theory, if accepted, would empower the Government to prohibit newspapers from running editorials or opinion pieces supporting or opposing candidates for office, so long as the newspapers were owned by corporations—as the major ones are. First Amendment rights could be confined to individuals, subverting the vibrant public discourse that is at the foundation of our democracy.

The Court properly rejects that theory, and I join its opinion in full. The First Amendment protects more than just the individual on a soapbox and the lonely pamphleteer. I write separately to address the important principles of judicial restraint and stare decisis implicated in this case.

Judging the constitutionality of an Act of Congress is


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 sheets, and neither more nor less, is printed; since otherwise some copies of the book would be imperfect. In the same way, our didactic method lays it down as an essential condition that the whole school be given over at one and the same time to the teaching of one master, that from beginning to end all the scholars be subjected to a graduated course of instruction, and that none be allowed to enter after the session has once begun, or to leave before it is finished. In this way it will be possible for one master to teach a large number of pupils, and for all the pupils to learn every branch of knowledge thoroughly. It will therefore be necessary for all the public schools to open and to close at the same time (it suits our method best if the schools open in autumn rather than in spring), in order that the task allotted to each class may be completed each year, and that all (except those wanting in intellect) may be brought up to a certain standard at the same time, and may enter the next class together. This is an exact analogy of the method used in printing when all the copies of the first page are printed first, then those of the second page, and so on.

20. The better class of books are divided into chapters, columns, and paragraphs, and have spaces on their margins and between their lines. Similarly, our didactic method must have its periods of toil and of rest, with definite spaces of time set apart for honest recreation. The tasks are mapped out for each year, month, day, and hour, and if these divisions are duly observed no class can fail to reach the necessary standard at the end of the session. There are excellent reasons why the hours of public instruction should not exceed four daily, of which two should be before, and two after mid-day. On Saturday the two afternoon hours may be remitted, and the whole of Sunday should be devoted to divine service, so that we have thus twenty-two hours weekly and making allowance for the holidays) about a thousand hours yearly. How much might be taught and learned in this time, were it only methodically employed!


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 AULD LANGSYNE.

And here's a hand my trusty friend, And gie's a hand o'thine.

Engraved for Colquhoun's Collection of Scotch Songs.

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 21. As soon as the type has been set up, the paper is flattened out and laid ready to hand, that nothing may impede the process of printing. Similarly, a teacher should place his pupils in front of him that he may see them and be seen by all. This we have already shown in Problem 1.

22. The paper is damped and softened, that it may be better fitted to receive the impression of the type. Similarly the pupils in a school must continually be urged to attend, as we have already explained.

23. When this has been done, the type are inked, a distinct impression may be taken from them. Similarly, the teacher makes the lesson vivid by means of his voice, reading it over and explaining it, that all may understand.

24. The paper is then put into the press, one piece after the other, that the metal type may impress their form on each and every sheet. Similarly, the teacher, after he has explained a construction, and has shown by examples how easily it can be imitated, asks individual pupils to reproduce what he has said, and thus show that they are not merely learners, but actually possessors of knowledge.

25. The printed sheets are then exposed to the wind and are dried. Similarly, in school, the intellects of the pupils are exposed to the bracing influences of repetition, examination, and emulation, until it is certain that the lesson has been thoroughly learned.

26. When they have passed through the press, the printed sheets are all taken and arranged in order, that it may be seen if the copies are complete and without defects, and are therefore fit to be bound, sold, and used. The same function is performed in schools by the examination at the end of the year, when the progress of the pupils, and the thoroughness and comprehensiveness of their training, are investigated by the inspectors; the object being that these latter may certify that the subjects appointed have been properly learned.

27. So far we have confined ourselves to generalities, reserving our detailed investigation for a more suitable


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 occasion. For the present it is sufficient to have shown that our discovery of didachography, or our universal method, facilitates the multiplication of learned men in precisely the same way that the discovery of printing has facilitated the multiplication of books, those vehicles of learning, and that this is greatly to the advantage of mankind, since “the multitude of the wise is the wisdom of the world” (Wisdom vi. 24). And, since our desire is to increase the sum of Christian wisdom, and to sow the seeds of piety, of learning, and of morality in the hearts of all who are dedicated to God, we may hope for the fulfilment of the divine prophecy: “The earth shall be full of the knowledge of God, as the waters cover the sea” (Isaiah xi. 9).


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 KING AND THE TINKER.

Then up got the Tinker and hoisted his pack, His budgets with leather and tools on his back.

Engraved for Colquhouns Collection of Scotch Songs.

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Rh could be frozen. Furthermore, the existence of sanctions is no guarantee of their implementation and enforcement: a point we have made in previous reports. The Sentry called for the UK to ensure the effectiveness of its sanctions:

"The UK must deploy a cross-government approach, including the NCA, FCDO, and HM Treasury, to effectively implement these sanctions and ensure that they have the maximum impact and lead to the actual seizure of UK based assets, travel bans, and the denial of services. This must be coupled with effective in-country and international messaging that clearly sets out the reason for and aim of the sanctions."

50. There is concern that the financial benefits of the Wagner Network’s activities may be reaching the Russian government. Professor Blazakis told us last November that the Wagner Network had “become instrumental in Putin’s ambitions in gaining access to natural resources throughout Africa”, adding: “whether gold, oil or diamonds, the Russian Federation has acquired fungible assets that keep the war machine churning in Ukraine”. It is also unclear whether the Government has assessed the likelihood that Wagner Network activities have helped Russia to evade sanctions: The Minister was “sure that the Department is tracking that”, but said that he had no “particular knowledge” of such activity.

51. On 23 January 2023, it was reported that HM Treasury—specifically, the Office of Financial Sanctions Implementation (OFSI)—had granted special licenses to Yevgeny Prigozhin to enable him to circumvent UK sanctions against him and to launch a legal campaign against Eliot Higgins, founder of Bellingcat. The aim of this case appears to have been to rebut allegations made by Bellingcat against Prigozhin, which played a role in his original sanctions designation. The Treasury approved a British firm, Discreet Law, to work on this case, and enabled Prigozhin to pay the fees. Responding to an Urgent Question on 25 January 2023, Treasury Minister James Cartlidge MP noted that such decisions are routinely taken by officials in OFSI, without ministerial oversight. He noted that, under the UK’s sanctions regime, there can be circumstances when frozen assets are used to pay for sanctioned individuals’ legal fees, due to the universal right to legal representation. On 30 March 2023, the Treasury Minister, Baroness Penn, announced that, when assessing future applications for sanctions waivers, OFSI takes “a presumption that legal fees relating to defamation and similar cases will be rejected”. She also noted that updates to the decision-making framework would clarify “when it is appropriate for Ministers to take these decisions personally, or where officials can take these decisions”.

52. The FCDO’s direct involvement in Treasury decisions over sanctions waivers appears limited. The Foreign Office had no involvement, for example, in OFSI’s decision over


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December 15, 1922.

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the last t of your novel has been piously crossed, you experience a major bliss of authorship: the interval of intellectual torpor that succeeds the creative act. Months later, in a new mood, perhaps in a different land, you your story which has, in the interval, gone to school, graduated, and come home a book—with a jacket and a price. The experience is not unlike playing for the first time a piano transcription of a familiar symphony. It sounds thin; you miss a dozen orchestral colours, despite the exciting gain in clarity and the alien timbre.

Suddenly the thought comes to you: but the public may not suspect that it is symphonic! For them it will be a sonata—and an unwieldy one. And a major chagrin of authorship is that you can't sit on the arm of your reader's chair and score in for him the parts between the lines. In the heat of writing you had taken it for granted that he was hearing what you heard, for was he not merely thousands of yous! He, you assumed, knew your people beforehand; that they were "born on Sunday, christened on Monday, married on Tuesday" and so on to the Saturday burial, because long before your day writers of fiction had recorded all the possible externals. But in this new mood, as you read impersonally what you had so personally set down, you are no longer the composer, and you see how absurd it was to think of the public as thousands of yous, when it is only a thousandth of you, just as you are a thousandth of it. Rh

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vi Whereupon another revelation comes to you: your story is "modern." That is only another way of saying that it has tacitly eliminated factors common to all the novels you had been brought up on—novels you had assumed your readers had been brought up on. Readers who have read many novels may catch factors in your story that you failed to "cancel out," and they will think you old-fashioned. Readers who have read few novels may not recognize your two-thirds as their four-sixths! They may consequently doubt your final product and think you over-modern. Readers who have read no novels to speak of may think you mad and your hero madder. They may not even be aware that "heroes" were cancelled out years ago and that death is not necessarily a tragedy. They may see darkness where you saw dawn, futility where you saw hope, despair where you saw transfiguration. And you can't hum in for them the subsidiary voices; the best you can do is to attempt a preface to the new edition, and you abhor prefaces.

P. C.

New York, 1924.

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as an endless suite of "variations on a given theme." This notion had filtered into the precocious imagination of Paul Minas, boy organist of the Baptist church in Hale's Turning, Nova Scotia, and dyed his mind as he played on and on through a favourite Bach prelude which luckily suited the mood of the "collection" interval. Solo performances rescued him from the chaos of the external world, bringing him into a mysterious intimacy with life itself. For the moment he was the melody. He felt the music as intrinsically as he felt the warmth in his body, yet his relation to it was romantically tinged with a dormant consciousness of the fact that Phœbe Meddar, seated in the pew with her mother and brother, was, perforce, listening.

The metaphor had not presented itself to him in words. His vocabulary, though fuller than that of Walter Dreer and Mark Laval, was a meagre wardrobe for the variety of rôles he was capable of performing. From a magnanimous prince to a starving poet, from Thaddeus of Warsaw to the Lazarillo de Tormes, he became metamorphosed with amazing facility. The notion of life as music had, without the agency of words, stolen into mind as he gave utterance by means of manuals, pedals and Rh

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 stops, to the voices which kept rising and falling, alternating and intermingling, intoning his theme in varying keys and modes, with varying degrees of passion, longing, doubt and conviction.

Each successive variation enounced the theme with accretions of character. With each recurrence, though undeniably the same entity, it was less naïve, more experienced. "Like the same person a year later," Paul might have stated it. He was far too engrossed in the sombre joy of performing to decipher whatever thoughts may have been flickering across the screen of consciousness, and it was only when a discreet "Psst!" smote his ear—thanks to Mr. Silva, the grizzled basso—that he emerged from his absorption. Then, with a surge of discomfiture, he realized he had played beyond the time limit. In the mirror above the manuals he saw that the ushers were standing with bowed heads, while the minister frowningly awaited his cue to murmur over the upraised plates a formula of thanks and consecration. With a hastily improvised modulation Paul brought the interlude to an end.

His feelings were hurt, for he had been playing with an exalted faith in the divine purport of the music and resented the anticlimax. Moreover, he imagined Gritty Kestrell and Walter Dreer tittering, and blushed—felt his neck and ears getting all red for the congregation to see.

He had been disconcerted more by the intrusion upon his private engrossment in the music than by a fear that his pride in "being organist" might have made him appear to be prolonging the offertory merely to show off. For having kept the minister waiting, he felt little or no compunction. The minister was only a prosy man with unpleasant thumbs and bad manners. As for the ushers, Paul objected to their pompousness when they made their rounds with the mahogany, baize-lined plates. They

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 looked forward to that moment as the culminating point of the service, indeed of the whole week, for it gave them an opportunity of being conspicuous. This he guessed with an intuition sharpened by rivalry, for he himself looked forward to the same moment, for the same reason.

And he had an artist's horror of the noise made by pennies and dimes when the whole attention of the congregation should be focussed on the music with which he so fervently filled the interval. They chinked loudest of all when one reached the part that called for a hushed, "Æolian harp" effect. If he stopped to chide himself for an illicit desire to be conspicuous in the consciousness of Phœbe and Gritty and Walter—chiefly Phœbe, whose image was always before him during the tedious weekday hours of practice—he quickly came to his own defence with the reflection that, after all, he, a boy of eleven, perched on that bench, stretching down to pedals which had to be built up with pieces of board—he was obviously more important than four old men in shiny coats. Anybody could be an usher!

Those petty coins! He knew a naughty rhyme about them. Walter Dreer had whispered it to him in Sunday-school:

At dinner, in the kitchen of the big cold house, Paul hesitated to tell Aunt Verona of the contretemps during the offertory. Much as he venerated Aunt Verona,

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 much as he loved her in a repressed way, he was cautious with her. For, although Aunt Verona was kind and refrained from scolding or punishing, she had a habit, when he reported his lapses or when she caught him in a misdemeanour, of making remarks to herself. The remarks were often unintelligible, yet Paul dreaded them more than he would have dreaded a reprimand. They seemed to imply that some melody had gone off-key, that he had been guilty of a moral discord. And there was something haunting about her countenance when she was disappointed—all the more so in that her prescription of well-doing was never specifically set forth: one could only surmise its nature by means of the awful, muttering suspension of relations that followed any default. Yet despite its nonspecific quality, despite the fact that Aunt Verona never said "Do this" nor "Don't do that," as other grown-ups were for ever saying, there was something singularly consistent about her negative code. It became more intricate as you learned new facts, but it never contradicted itself. There were blind alleys in Aunt Verona's ethics, and she would often say, "Wait till you're a little older, child, then you'll see what I mean." But he was certain her prophecy would come true, for experience proved that the blank walls which had seemed to bar progress were in reality quite scalable fences beyond which lay inviting new fields. Growing up was largely a matter of discovering that Aunt Verona had been right about all the problems which had baffled one; consequently Paul paid blind homage to her wisdom and writhed whenever he was clumsy enough to bring a shadow across her face—whenever, as it were, he flatted.

He knew, of course, that Aunt Verona would ply him with questions about the morning service, and she was the one person in the world who was never bored when he talked about his experiments with new combinations of stops. If he told her in detail how Miss Todd had

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 sung her solo, he did so merely because that implied a right to explain at equal length how he had played his prelude and interlude and postlude, and Aunt Verona at times fairly gloated, though she usually concluded with some such comment as, "Ah, but wait till you've mastered the new octave studies. It doesn't do to be easily satisfied. Nothing's so deadly as that."

One idiosyncrasy of Aunt Verona's puzzled him more than all the others. Ever since he had been considered big enough to march off to church she had exacted that he should memorize the text of the sermon, which she promptly wrote down on a ragged piece of brown paper and stuffed into a drawer of a cabinet on the kitchen dresser. What she meant to do with the texts, or why she collected them, Paul could not, after considerable straining of mind, imagine. Often, on Sunday afternoons, he had caught her bursting into a thin laugh and repeating one or two words of the morning text, and this day was no exception, for as she went to the stove to get the coffee he heard her muttering, with a nameless sort of relish, "Toil not—to be sure . . . spin . . . Heaven protect my wits!"

Not for worlds would Paul have ventured to inquire why Aunt Verona persisted in this rite, yet he would no more have dared forget the text than neglect saying his prayers, for if he did he knew that one of those blank expressions would come into Aunt Verona's face and she would go off to the playroom and sit for hours looking out of the window at the cherry tree, whilst he suffered inconsolable miseries of guilt at having been careless enough to let the pattern of life go "crookedy," to play a false note, as it were. Once he had forgotten, and on the spur of the moment invented a substitute, an old Sunday-school "golden" text that had leapt to his tongue as a very present help, and she had unsuspectingly written it down and stuffed it into the drawer. That had

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 made him feel a cad all day. Even if she did nothing with the texts, it was a torture for him to know that there was one spurious text among all the genuine.

Every Sunday morning, immediately after breakfast, Aunt Verona took him to the playroom and gave him a final drill in the anthems and solos for the day, correcting him when he played too fast, and keeping a kind but uncannily vigilant eye on his fourth finger, which, for all the special exercises she had devised, persisted in being weaker than the others—a weakness which made for unsteady trills. Sometimes when he was practising alone she would call out from the kitchen in the middle of an étude, "Paul, Paul, go back two bars. You've left out an A-flat in the bass," and he never ceased wondering how she could unerringly name the note.

He had known for a long while that Aunt Verona was unlike every other creature in Hale's Turning, but he had taken her major oddities for granted. As he grew older he marvelled more and more. He wondered, for instance, why she never went to church, since she took such an interest in its affairs. He had been less offhand in his reports since the day, years ago, when, in reply to her query as to what the Sunday-school teacher had talked about, he had said, "Oh, about Jesus and God and all those!" For on that occasion Aunt Verona had laughed till she cried. He shrank from questioning her about herself, both because he was shy and because he knew she disliked personal questions, which she either evaded or dismissed with a peremptory "I'll tell you some day." In daylight she never ventured farther than the well, and as far back as Paul could remember there had been only three or four occasions, at dead of night, when she had passed through the gate into the street. These ominous sorties had been preceded by long fits of depression. Then Aunt Verona had gone to one of the unused rooms upstairs, put on a veil and some appall-

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 ingly old-fashioned clothes, installed him before the kitchen stove with a book and an apple, and stolen out for an hour or two.

He had suffered mental agony during her absences, for he had guessed that she had been at the doctor's and the association of the ideas of doctor and night-time awakened in his mind a tragic memory. He saw himself again as a boy of three in Aunt Verona's arms wriggling, imploring his mother not to go away. He saw his mother run back into the room, kneel to kiss him, the tears streaming down her cheeks, then wrench herself away, heedless of his din, to go to a fiendish place she called the "sanatorium." At that point the picture became blurred, for she had never come back.

The terror bred in him by that dim tragedy had come stealing back like a ghost on the few occasions when Aunt Verona had gone out, steadfastly refusing to let him accompany her. He would rather have faced a legion of doctors with her than be left at the mercy of weird shadows, but nothing would have induced him to say "Yes" when Aunt Verona enjoined, in parting, "You won't be afraid, child, will you?" Ashamed of his fears, he sat with his book until the outer door closed, then retreated to a corner of the room, pressed his back against the protective wall and waited, tense and wide-eyed.

He wondered, too, why he should have to go on to Miss Todd's for choir rehearsal, when the choir might much more conveniently have come to Aunt Verona's. Miss Todd had only a tinny upright piano and her house was on the hill beyond the church, whereas Aunt Verona had a concert piano that had been brought on his father's ship all the way from Hamburg in Germany, the best piano in the whole province, and the harmonium which had belonged to his mother was almost as good as a pipe organ. Yet it was somehow unthinkable that the choir should come to Aunt Verona's house. For that matter

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 nobody came but Dr. Wilcove, Mr. Silva, the chore-man, and Becky States, the coloured washerwoman, who wore long glass earrings which she had abstracted from a broken lamp-shade in the parlour. Gritty Kestrell and Walter Dreer and Mark Laval didn't count, for they were children and never came indoors unless it was stormy. Paul was ill at ease when he brought them into the bare house, because it was so different from the noisy, cheerful interiors of other houses. Yet he secretly noted that when Aunt Verona sat them down to a table in the playroom and served them with milk and bread and butter and jam and cookies, there was a vague distinction about the occasion that subdued Gritty and reduced the elegant Walter to whispers—Walter whose mother made entrancing frosted walnut cakes!

If people knocked at the door Paul answered. Unless the caller were a tramp, a gipsy woman or a pedlar, it was his duty to say, "My aunt's not at home," though every one in Hale's Turning knew the contrary. At first, when he had protested against this fib, Aunt Verona had said, "Certain fibs have to be told, child, in the interest of truth as a whole. Little negatives are sometimes comprised in a positive total. You'll understand one day. Besides, in Milieux, where people are less literal-minded, it's simply a way of saying 'She doesn't wish to receive visitors to-day. She had seemed unusually serious and had sat looking out the playroom window, her eyes on some remote horizon of thought. Paul, drawing a picture of a locomotive on the blackboard, had kept as quiet as a mouse. Then, speaking to herself, Aunt Verona had blurted out, "God, what a labyrinth, labyrinth, labyrinth!"

Her cryptic manner and the strange word had abashed him, and he had put down his chalk preparing to steal away. With a start Aunt Verona had remembered his existence and fixed him with a stern eye, modified by

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 her extraordinary, serious smile. "You, child, must never say that. I can, but you mustn't. Promise."

He had promised readily enough and run out of doors. But at supper he couldn't resist asking a question which had been tormenting him. "Why mustn't I say 'labyrinth,' Aunt Verona?" he had finally ventured. Aunt Verona had been puzzled a long while, then broke into one of her rare, kind laughs. "It was the other word, child, that Aunt Verona wished you not to say—the first word."

"Oh, 'God?

"Yes . . . Except in your prayers."

From Aunt Verona's change of expression he had known he mustn't pursue the subject, and alone in bed he had got himself involved in an intricate piece of casuistry, trying to define the legitimate use and vain misuse of the name of the Deity. Intricate, because it had all to be negotiated without implying that Aunt Verona was a breaker of the commandments. The dire consequences of taking the name of the Lord in vain were minutely known to him. Hell was redder and hotter than the coals over which Aunt Verona baked onions when he had a cold, and it was obvious that one's own aunt would not go to such a place when she died. Besides, he took it for granted that Aunt Verona had been "saved." It was certainly lucky that his mother had been saved before she entered that fatal sanatorium!

Mark Laval, who attended Mass in the heathenish church across the river where the French-Canadian lumberjacks lived, had told him that only Catholics got to heaven, and Paul had run home terrified at the thought that his mother might be baking like an onion, till Mr. Silva, who was chopping wood in the yard, had reassured him. Mr. Silva—whom the people of Hale's Turning called "Mr. Silver" unaware that Silva meant "woods"—said that the Catholics invented such stories in the hope

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 of converting you, and that night Paul had dreamt he was running for dear life down an endless corridor pursued by priests in black robes who were breathing hard and trying to lasso him with objects like bicycle tyres. He had stumbled and wakened just in time, but hadn't dared go to Aunt Verona's door and ask her to let him crawl into her bed, for he was a big boy of seven.

Mr. Silva was continually throwing off remarks which were as unusual in their way as were the objects he whittled out of pieces of board. When the sap was running in the alders he could make better whistles and slingshots than Mark Laval. Mark was clever with his blunt fingers, but you couldn't be sure that his whistles would blow or that the bark wouldn't split, whereas Mr. Silva was infallible.

One day when Paul came in from school to practise, Mr. Silva was replacing the heavy lid of the piano; the piano à queue, as Aunt Verona had called it on one of their French-speaking days, and the phrase had made Paul giggle.

On a newly-tuned instrument old pieces revived, like wilting flowers when put into water, and Paul played with extra zest. Mr. Silva lingered in the room, and Paul guessed that Aunt Verona suffered him to remain because his ideas stimulated her, as did those of the tramps and gipsies. Paul shared her contempt for the general mentality of the village and her respect for the Portuguese Jack of all trades whom the village dismissed as "odd." He had asked Aunt Verona why Mr. Silva was contented to do chores for a living rather than return to Oporto where there were palm trees or go to Halifax where there were hundreds of pianos to tune, but it had been difficult to get all his questions formulated in German, which Aunt Verona made him speak on Mondays and

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 Wednesdays, and she had merely replied, "Ohne Zweifel, weil er gefunden hat, dass er hier glücklicher ist, als irgendwo anders."

After Paul had tested the piano, he turned to Mr. Silva, who was standing in the doorway fingering his cap and beaming with a sort of wistful pleasure. "Ah," said the old man, "music is the universal language. If every one had an aunt like yours to teach them, there would be no more wars. The nations would take the yoke of Beethoven and Bach upon them and learn of them. When you grow up you will write noble music too, and people of all countries will play it, spreading love and truth throughout the world."

From Mr. Silva's speech Paul drew two overwhelming deductions. First, people wrote music! He had assumed that all music, the world's fixed répertoire, was comprised in the volumes and sheets which were kept in a trunk upstairs and brought forth one at a time, to be mastered in succession—a series which had commenced when he was five years old with "The Merry Peasant" and which was to culminate in a certain redoubtable Liszt Sonata for the satisfactory performance of which, when he had grown up to its measure, Aunt Verona was pledged to hand over to him the watch which the Queen of Holland had given his father for rescuing nineteen Dutch sailors from a burning ship. It had never occurred to him that Beethoven and Bach had once been boys, then grown up and made music out of their heads.

The second deduction was that German and Dutch and Spanish and perhaps even Chinese boys liked music too—the very pieces Canadian boys liked! He had, without stopping to think about it, assumed that music was English, like spelling and geography. He had always realized that one would have to talk German to a German boy, and one wouldn't have anything to say to a Chinese boy—except "Muckahighlo," which Mr. Silva

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 said was swearing—but now he realized that, no matter "what nation of a boy" he might meet, he could always, in a sense, get on terms with the stranger by playing the piano. This rich thought coloured his hours of practice for many days. The following Sunday in church he pretended that the congregation was composed of delegates from every nation under the sun, quite without means of making themselves understood to one another until the moment when he climbed on his bench and old Silas out in the vestry turned on the water power that pumped the organ. And, before the choir straggled in, he gave himself the illusion that the congregation were sighing in relief and listening eagerly, that their minds, concentrated on the œcumenical strains of the voluntary—especially chosen for the occasion and sweetly condescending in spirit—were flowing into a single stream of intelligence, that the world was being flooded with good tidings. Phœbe Meddar—whose mother's hat was the only sign of the enchanted family that came within range of the organ mirror—was a delegate from Alcantara, a princess who knew not a word of any human language, but to whose ears every vibration of sound in the gilded Pipes revealed sweet secrets. Walter Dreer was a swashbuckling Don, secretly in love with the Princess, but unable to declare himself inasmuch as he couldn't even play "I love coffee, I love tea" on the black notes.

For days, as he sailed boats in the river with Mark Laval or whittled arrows and swords in the shop where Gritty Kestrell's father made coffins, he kept coming back to Mr. Silva's notion of music reaching out over the world as a healing and teaching influence. One afternoon, as he sat swinging on the gate in front of Aunt Verona's empty house, where tiger lilies grew rank among the long grass, he dreamed that Queen Victoria had sent for him and after touching his shoulder with a shining Excalibur, commanded him to go out to South Africa and play

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 the Moonlight Sonata to the angry Boers—on a vast organ with pipes that stretched like a golden bridge to heaven.

Paul and Gritty sometimes played "ship" among the impressive boxes which Gritty's mother forbade her to mention by name. Once Gritty had occasion to write the word, and she spelt it "coughin." In a small showroom were even more mysterious boxes, shiny and trimmed with metal. They had arrived ready-made from Halifax, wrapped in blue tissue paper which Gritty and Paul tore off and soaked in their school bottles, for it was a point of taste at school to have "coloured water" with which to wash one's slate, just as it was a point of respectability to have a slice of cake and an apple to top off one's sandwich luncheons on stormy days.

On his fifth birthday Paul had commenced school, for, although it was a Thursday and the middle of a term, Aunt Verona had had no choice but to fulfil a promise that he should be allowed to attend "when he got five." As Aunt Verona never appeared in public, it had fallen to the lot of Mr. Silva to escort Paul to Miss Ranston with an explanatory note.

His clean face and jaunty person were offensive to the big boys who played leap-frog in the angle of the school steps, and on the second day their sense of injury expressed itself in a concerted attack. He found himself enclosed in a ring of howling red Indians. Before his eyes were dancing legs and visions of lifelong humiliation; but he was armed with presence of mind and an umbrella. Deliberately he selected the ringleader and administered a jab with the umbrella point which in the confusion went to his assailant's eye and pierced it.

"Serves you right," Paul piped, as the others, scared at the sight of blood, fell back. That is what he said,

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 and mounted the high steps, intact as a god, clutching his umbrella. Out of the enemy's reach he collapsed, and in sickness and horror clung to the caressing Miss Ranston, explaining to her what he had disdained to explain to the beastly others, that he had aimed at Bean-Oh's stomach, but some one had pushed his elbow.

He had, however, described a charmed circle about himself, even though his victim, who squinted ever after, was a torturing reminder of his first experience of meaningless hostility, his first battle for freedom.

His next epoch-making exploit, two years later, was to become enamoured of a little girl whose surname began, romantically, with the same letter as his own, and who consequently stood next him in the Friday afternoon spelling matches, To that little girl, Leila Meddar, there clung a most ethereal odour of coco-nut cookies. Night after night Paul lay awake composing dialogues designed for every conceivable contingency whereby they might find themselves together—they two and nobody else. He hoarded bits of tissue paper and rummaged in Aunt Verona's attic for choice rags, that Leila might one day have the prettiest bottle of coloured water in the class. He spent afternoons in the fields looking for new "secrets," a word which in the code of the undertaker's daughter and himself signified "flowering mosses." Whenever the time was ripe, Leila should be brought to see and admire them. To no living soul—not even to Gritty, who was a tomboy and a fairly safe confidante—did he breathe a hint of his ardours.

One Monday he was appointed monitor for the boys, and Leila Meddar, in automatic accordance with a romantic alphabet, was appointed for the girls. This meant that for five precious days it would be their joint duty to dust the blackboards and gather hats and coats for distribution at dismissal time. Daily he rehearsed a declaration for the cloakroom, but daily it adhered to his

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 tongue. He could merely swoon in the sweet, pervasive odour of cookies.

One morning Leila was absent, and the world grew grey. Day after day her seat remained vacant, and Paul took to walking by the river, casting furtive glances at the windows of the white cottage on the bluff where Leila lived. There was no sign of her and he would go back to the fields behind Aunt Verona's house and say comforting things to his patient "secrets." Then one day Miss Ranston, in a queer voice, told them that Leila Meddar would never come back to school, for she had been ill and God had taken her up into heaven where she would not have to suffer any more.

He walked from the schoolhouse in a daze, his thoughts floating high like balloons, trying to find some resting-place in his clouded knowledge concerning the other world. He took it for granted that Leila was "saved" and would go—perhaps had gone, even before the funeral—to the region of pearl and jasper which his mother and father and Uncle Isaiah and Becky States's little black boy inhabited. The light of his love for Leila was absorbed into the refulgence of this new experience, so palpitatingly mysterious, so gloriously awful. For a while he picked clover and buttercups and daisies, on a nameless urge, and wandered from secret to secret, as if to cull the images of Leila and rebreathe the ethereal odour of cookies. With flowers still in his hand he walked across the meadow and down the road toward Gritty Kestrell's brown house, over which clambered spreading vines of blue clematis. Gritty was not in sight, but in front of the carpenter shop, at the foot of the silvery, creaking windmill, Mr. Kestrell was planing a board in an intent manner which made Paul sure that his activity was in some way associated with Leila.

After supper Aunt Verona said illuminating things about sickness and dying, then accompanied him to his

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 bedroom, as she had done in the days before he was a big boy of seven. But she did not explain how such a little girl, no older than himself, could so unexpectedly stop living. Nor could Aunt Verona in any way bridge the yawning gap between Leila's existence as a girl who stood in spelling matches, who ate sandwiches and played tag, and her transfiguration into something divine, impersonal and infinitely far-away, like the people in the Bible. In bed Paul tried to picture heaven, as he had done on the occasion of a funeral procession across the river. Suddenly he was confronted with the thought that French-Canadians went to the same heaven as Leila, for Mr. Silva maintained that even Catholics went there when they were sincerely good. He wondered if God spoke French to them, or if He had some arrangement like Aunt Verona's, speaking different languages on different days. Perhaps everybody in heaven had to learn English. Very likely, for the Bible was in English. He fell asleep at last, and next day Aunt Verona gave him ten cents to take to Miss Ranston as his contribution towards the wreath which the school was to present. The flowers he had picked in the meadow were still lying on his window sill. Without knowing why he did so, he emptied the treasures out of his cracked lacquer box, placed the flowers in it, gently closed the lid and locked it, then took it to the bureau and placed it far back in the corner of an empty drawer.

On the day of the funeral a half-holiday was declared, an event which exalted the otherwise undistinguished little Leila upon a plane with the Prime Minister. Walter Dreer lowered the flag, and all the children marched to the cemetery. On the way up the long hill, Bean-Oh, who since the distant occasion when Paul had nearly blinded him had been particularly amicable, confided that Leila had perished of a simultaneous indulgence in milk and cucumbers. Gritty Kestrell denied this and swore it was

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