My object in the following pages will be not merely to give such hints to the novice as may enable him, so far as book-learning can effect the purpose, to master the rudiments of oarsmanship, but also to commend to him the sport of rowing from the point of view of those enthusiasts who regard it as a noble open-air exercise, fruitful in lessons of strength, courage, discipline, and endurance, and as an art which requires on the part of its votaries a sense of rhythm, a perfect balance and symmetry of bodily effort, and the graceful control and repose which lend an appearance of ease to the application of the highest muscular energy. Much has to be suffered and many difficulties have to be overcome before the raw tiro, whose fantastic contortions in a tub-pair excite the derision of the spectators, can approach to the power, effectiveness and grace...
The amphibious force moved in with big guns ready, with rockets and flame throwers and LCI's and LCT's and planes and thousands of combat-hardened men, expecting to shoot the works against the fog-shrouded little island that might have held the northern key to invasion. The men were all tensely expectant. All, that is, except the nurse and the Air Force radioman whom one of the LCT's had picked up en route, drifting in a rubber life raft. But their apparent indifference to the impending battle aroused little comment. The task force had its own problems to consider, and that pair had already had it rugged. Their plane, they said, had been shot down weeks before and they'd been dodging Japs ever since. When the ramp of the first landing craft grated on the gravel and word went back to the waiting ships that the battle was off, that the Japs...
It has always been a passion with me to collect odds and ends of every sort and put them into scrap-books and note-books. Consequently I now have many volumes filled with old squibs, cuttings, photographs, scraps of verse, menus of banquets, and other trifles which, together with notes scribbled at the side, recall many pleasant and amusing days now long vanished into the past. In many of my books, I must confess, the contents are arranged in the most haphazard fashion, which now and then produces some rather amusing contrasts; for instance, opening one at hazard I came upon an old broadside of 1832 entitled “The Great Battle for Reform,” side by side with a picture post-card dealing with the Suffragette agitation,—a combination which brought into my mind the following little anecdote. Long before the days of advanced female politicians, in the year 1832, an elderly couple, peacefully sleeping in...
Sorex cinereus ohionensis Bole and Moulthrop.—In their description of this subspecies from Ohio, Bole and Moulthrop (1942:89-95) made no mention of specimens in the United States Biological Surveys Collection from Ellsworth and Milford Center, Ohio, which stand in the literature (see Jackson, 1928:49) as Sorex cinereus cinereus . These two localities lie south of the geographic range ascribed to S. c. ohionensis by Bole and Moulthrop. Examination of the two specimens, United States Biological Surveys Collection, Catalogue No. 70566, and United States National Museum, No. 19434, respectively, both of which are alcoholics, reveals that they are referable to the subspecies ohionensis rather than to S. c. cinereus . This reference is made on the basis of small size, short tail (33 and 31 millimeters, respectively), and fourth upper unicuspid as large as third (the specimen from Milford Center lacks the skull). The occurrence at Milford Center provides a southward extension...
INTRODUCTION. AS we very justly esteem it a fit Tribute of Admiration to adorn natural Curiosities, by setting them as richly and as advantageously as art can direct, so the following Observations of the Shepherd of Banbury have appeared to me worthy of being presented to the Eye of the Public, with all the Lustre that it was in my Power to give them. It is one thing to observe, and another to reason upon Observations, and it very rarely happens that both can be taken into the Compass of one Man's Life. We ought therefore to consider it as a very lucky Incident, when the Observations of another Man, upon whom we can depend, fall into our Hands, and enable us to add natural Experience to the Notions derived to us from Books of Philosophy. THERE is a Degree of Pedantry in Desarts as well as Colleges. Men who...
Triton was a dead world. The hydrogen snow that covered the illimitable desolation of the plain glowed a weird green in the dying Neptune-light. Above it, grim and black, towered the west wall of the great Temple of Triton. The evening gale had drifted the snow high against its east wall, but here, in its lee, the ground was bare. The faint light struck sparks of color from the gravel, the stones, the boulders—gravel that was ruby and sapphire, stones that were giant moissonites, boulders that were titanic diamonds. The Wolf Cub rested on that gravel, its beryllium sides a sickly green. In all that world, only Wolf Larsen lived and moved and breathed. An alien might have correctly supposed that this world had been dead for untold ages, that the builders of its Temple had perished incalculably long ago, that nothing would ever live here again. Wolf Larsen knew...
Jerom speaking of the different manner which writers found themselves obliged to use, in their controversial, and dogmatical writings, intimates, that in controversy whose end was victory, rather than truth, it was allowable to employ every artifice which would best serve to conquer an adversary; in proof of which "Origen, says he, Methodius, Eusebius, Apollinaris, have written many thousands of lines against Celsus, and Porphyry: consider with what arguments and what slippery problems they baffle what was contrived against them by the spirit of the devil: and because they are sometimes forced to speak, they speak not what they think, but what is necessary against those who are called Gentiles. I do not mention the Latin writers, Tertullian, Cyprian, Minutius, Victorinus, Lactantius, Hilarius, lest I be thought not so much defending myself, as accusing others, &c." Op. Tom. 4. p. 2. p.:256. Middleton's Free Enquiry, p. 158. It is remarkable...
To sustain and deserve the title of “Gastronomic Regenerator,” nothing but an entire change from the system of any other publication on the art of Cookery would be admissible, it is now in the hands of my readers to judge for themselves, and to stamp its character according to its merits, either as an original or a copy; to avoid the last, however, I have closely studied to introduce the greatest novelty in every department, and have entirely omitted all unnecessary confusion, which, in many previous works, have rendered them unintelligible to the uninitiated, and almost impracticable to the initiated; however, many old and useful receipts, too good to be omitted, will be found much simplified—to reduce them to a practical point. I have also minutely studied the disposing and arranging of the building of all sized kitchens, from the one of the Reform Club and the Kitchen of the...
All Israel have a portion in the world to come, and it is said, "And thy people shall be all righteous; they shall inherit the land for ever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I may be glorified". 1. Rabbi said, "which is the right course that a man should choose for himself? That which is a pride to him who pursues it and which also brings him honor from mankind. Be as scrupulous about a light precept as about a grave one, for thou knowest not the grant of reward for each precept. Reckon the loss incurred by the fulfilment of a precept against the reward secured by its observance, and the gain gotten by a transgression against the loss it involves. Consider three things, that thou mayest not come within the power of sin. Know what is above thee—a seeing eye, and a...
About an hour out of San Francisco on the flight to Los Angeles, I made the discovery. I had finished reading the Chronicle , folded and put it beside me, turned and looked out the window, expecting to see the San Joaquin Valley but finding only a sea of clouds instead. So I returned my attention to the inside of the plane, to the overstuffed gray-haired woman asleep beside me, to the backs of heads in seats before me, across the aisle to other heads, and down to the blonde. I had seen her in the concourse and at the gate, a shapely thing. Now she had crossed her legs and I was privileged to view a trim ankle and calf, and her profile as she stared moodily across the aisle and out a window where there was nothing to see. I slid my eyes past her to others. A...
The tiny white petals of the barren strawberry open under the April sunshine which, as yet unchecked by crowded foliage above, can reach the moist banks under the trees. It is then that the first stroll of the year should be taken in Claygate Lane. The slender runners of the strawberries trail over the mounds among the moss, some of the flowers but just above the black and brown leaves of last year which fill the shallow ditch. These will presently be hidden under the grass which is pushing up long blades, and bending over like a plume. Crimson stalks and leaves of herb Robert stretch across the little cavities of the mound; lower, and rising almost from the water of the ditch, the wild parsnip spreads its broad fan. Slanting among the underwood, against which it leans, the dry white "gix" (cow-parsnip) of last year has rotted from its...
They climbed the hill together, arm in arm. At the crest, they stopped and looked back into the moon-brightened valley where the thin needle of metal pointed skyward. The night wind blew her dress tightly about her slim legs, and she reached a hand to her head to keep the blonde curls from whipping about her face. He put his arm about her waist, squeezed her gently. "Only a few more hours to wait," he said, reassuringly. The great ship from beyond the Galaxy drew alongside the tiny planet, matched its orbit, cut its drive, and drifted slightly toward the lone moon. The ship was nearly as large as the planet itself, but there was no interchange of gravity between the two bodies, for the ship was of a substance made beyond the stars. Inspector Ryt looked at his sky chart. Yes, it was Sol III. Then he looked through...
There are about five hundred theatres in Italy, and quite one half of these have seasons of opera at various times of the year. The traditional Italian operatic season begins on the 26th December of each year at San Stefano Day, and is called the Carnival Season; then follows Quaresima or Lent Season and Primavera or Spring Season—altogether some five months of opera. Besides these there exist ( stagioni di fiere ) short seasons of one or two weeks' duration, at the time of certain famous fairs. There are autumn seasons, and sporadic performances at fashionable summer and bathing resorts. I am quite within strict probability in asserting that in Italy two hundred odd theatres are devoted to opera the whole year round. These theatres may be briefly divided into two classes—municipal and private ones. The latter are run very much on the same lines as private theatres anywhere else,...
It is almost a commonplace of the political moralists that every failure on the part of England to satisfy the moderate and constitutional demands of the Irish people for reform has been followed invariably by a deplorable outbreak of “extremist” activities in Ireland. Unfortunately for the moral, that constitutional demands should therefore be promptly and fully conceded, the statement is almost exactly the reverse of the truth, if Irish history as a whole be taken as the field for induction. The Irish Nation cannot be said to have at any period abandoned its claim to independence. Of the meaning of that claim there was no question from the Conquest to the fall of Limerick. The whole of that period is occupied by a long struggle between the English and the Irish peoples for the effective possession of the island. On neither side was there any misapprehension of the meaning and...
In making that calculation he erred profoundly. M. Benedetti, the French Ambassador to the Court of Berlin, was instructed as early as the first week in August, 1866, to claim the left bank of the Rhine as far as, and including the important fortress of Mainz. “Knowing the temper of the Minister-President,” and knowing also, as he had repeatedly told his Government, that all Germany would resist any proposal to cede the least portion of territory, he first sent in a copy of M. Drouyn de Lhuys’ despatch, and afterwards called on the Minister. Prince von Bismarck, in 1871, published in the official newspapers his account of the famous interview, which shows that Benedetti, as he had pledged himself to do, resolutely pressed the large demand. He was told that it meant war, and that he had “better go to Paris to prevent a rupture.” Unmoved, he replied that he...
or a long time, Henry Bemis had had an ambition. To read a book. Not just the title or the preface, or a page somewhere in the middle. He wanted to read the whole thing, all the way through from beginning to end. A simple ambition perhaps, but in the cluttered life of Henry Bemis, an impossibility. Henry had no time of his own. There was his wife, Agnes who owned that part of it that his employer, Mr. Carsville, did not buy. Henry was allowed enough to get to and from work—that in itself being quite a concession on Agnes' part. Also, nature had conspired against Henry by handing him with a pair of hopelessly myopic eyes. Poor Henry literally couldn't see his hand in front of his face. For a while, when he was very young, his parents had thought him an idiot. When they realized it was...
The cool green disk of Alphard Six on the screen was infinitely welcome after the arid desolation and stinking swamplands of the inner planets, an airy jewel of a world that might have been designed specifically for the hard-earned month of rest ahead. Navigator Farrell, youngest and certainly most impulsive of the three-man Terran Reclamations crew, would have set the Marco Four down at once but for the greater caution of Stryker, nominally captain of the group, and of Gibson, engineer, and linguist. Xavier, the ship's little mechanical, had—as was usual and proper—no voice in the matter. "Reconnaissance spiral first, Arthur," Stryker said firmly. He chuckled at Farrell's instant scowl, his little eyes twinkling and his naked paunch quaking over the belt of his shipboard shorts. "Chapter One, Subsection Five, Paragraph Twenty-seven: No planetfall on an unreclaimed world shall be deemed safe without proper— " Farrell, as Stryker had expected,...
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction February 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] I guess I'm just a stickler, a perfectionist, but if you do a thing, I always say, you might as well do it right. Everything satisfied me about the security measures on our assignment except one—the official Army designation. Project Hush. I don't know who thought it up, and I certainly would never ask, but whoever it was, he should have known better. Damn it, when you want a project kept secret, you don't give it a designation like that! You give it something neutral, some name like the Manhattan and Overlord they used in World War II, which won't excite anybody's curiosity. But we were stuck with Project Hush and we had to take extra measures to ensure secrecy. A couple...
It may well be questioned whether, in the course of a like period of time, any country has ever undergone greater transitions, or made more rapid strides along the path of civilization than has Japan during the last quarter of a century. A group of numerous islands, situated on the high-road and thoroughfare of maritime traffic across the Pacific, between the Eastern and Western hemispheres, and in area considerably exceeding Great Britain and Ireland,—Japan, until thirty years ago, was a terra incognita to the rest of the world; exceeding even China in its conservatism and exclusiveness. And now, within a space of some five-and-twenty years, such changes have come about as to have given birth to the expression,— “the transformation of Japan.” The more conspicuous of these changes are summed up by a recent writer in the following words:— “New and enlightened criminal codes have been enacted; the methods of...
He heard the star-port grind open, and the movement of the metal claws groping into space, and then the star-port closed. There was another dead man aboard the Constellation . Sam Burnett shook his long head, trying to think clearly. Pallid and quiet, three bodies lay on the cold transparent tables around him; machines stirred, revolved, hummed. He didn't see them. He didn't see anything but a red haze over his mind. It blotted out the far wall of the laboratory where the shelves went up and down, numbered in scarlet, keeping the bodies of soldiers from all further harm. Burnett didn't move. He stood there in his rumpled white surgical gown, staring at his fingers gloved in bone-white rubber; feeling all tight and wild inside himself. It went on for days. Moving the ship. Opening the star-port. Extending the retriever claw. Plucking some poor warrior's body out of the...
"I sketch from Nature, and the draught is true. Whate'er the picture, whether grave or gay, Painful experience in a distant land Made it mine own." "Dear foster-mother, on whose ample breast The hungry still find food, the weary rest; The child of want that treads thy happy shore, Shall feel the grasp of poverty no more; His honest toil meet recompense can claim, And Freedom bless him with a freeman's name!" S.M. In our work of "Roughing it in the Bush," I endeavoured to draw a picture of Canadian life, as I found it twenty years ago, in the Backwoods. My motive in giving such a melancholy narrative to the British public, was prompted by the hope of deterring well-educated people, about to settle in this colony, from entering upon a life for which they were totally unfitted by their previous pursuits and habits. To persons unaccustomed to hard...
The plagues that struck mankind could be attributed to one man. But was he fiend ... or savior? The blood was added to a pool of other blood, mixed, centrifuged, separated to plasma and corpuscles, irradiated slightly, pasteurized slightly, frozen, evaporated, and finally banked. Some of the plasma was used immediately for a woman who had bled too much in childbirth. She died. Others received plasma and did not die. But their symptoms changed, including a syndrome of multiple endocrine unbalance, eccentricities of appetite and digestion, and a general pattern of emotional disturbance. An alert hospital administrator investigated the mortality rise and narrowed it to a question of who had donated blood the week before. After city residents were eliminated, there remained only the signed receipts and thumbprints of nine men. Nine healthy unregistered travelers poor enough to sell their blood for money, and among them a man who carried...
Old China and its People HE must be dead to all noble thoughts who can tread the venerable continent of Asia without profound emotion. Beyond any other part of the earth, its soil teems with historic associations. Here was the birthplace of the human race. Here first appeared civilization. Here were born art and science, learning and philosophy. Here man first engaged in commerce and manufacture. And here emerged all the religious teachers who have most powerfully influenced mankind, for it was in Asia in an unknown antiquity that the Persian Zoroaster taught the dualism of good and evil; that the Indian Gautama 600 years before Christ declared that self-abnegation was the path to a dreamless Nirvana; that less than a century later the Chinese Lao-tse enunciated the mysteries of Taoism and Confucius uttered his maxims regarding the five earthly relations of man, to be followed within another century by...
Lord Loudwater was paying attention neither to his breakfast nor to the cat Melchisidec. Absorbed in a leader in The Times newspaper, now and again he tugged at his red-brown beard in order to quicken his comprehension of the weighty phrases of the leader-writer; now and again he made noises, chiefly with his nose, expressive of disgust. Lady Loudwater paid no attention to these noises. She did not even raise her eyes to her husband's face. She ate her breakfast with a thoughtful air, her brow puckered by a faint frown. She also paid no attention to her favourite, Melchisidec. Melchisidec, unduly excited by the smell of grilled sole, came to Lord Loudwater, rose on his hind legs, laid his paws on his trousers, and stuck some claws into his thigh. It was no more than gentle, arresting pricks; but the tender nobleman sprang from his chair with a short...
REVOCATION OF THE EDICT OF NANTES. The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes was signed by Louis XIV. of France, on the 18th of October, 1685, and published four days afterwards. Although the Revocation was the personal act of the King, it was nevertheless a popular measure, approved by the Catholic Church of France, and by the great body of the French people. The King had solemnly sworn, at the beginning of his reign, to maintain, the tolerating Edict of Henry IV.—the Huguenots being amongst the most industrious, enterprising, and loyal of his subjects. But the advocacy of the King's then Catholic mistress, Madame de Maintenon, and of his Jesuit Confessor, Père la Chaise, overcame his scruples, and the deed of Revocation of the Edict was at length signed and published. The aged Chancellor, Le Tellier, was so overjoyed at the measure, that on affixing the great seal of France...
by … John Victor Peterson If matter transference really works—neanderthalers can pop up anywhere. And that’s very hard on politicians! Some say scientists should keep their noses out of politics. Benson says it’s to prevent damage to their olfactory senses. Benson’s a physicist. I’ve known Allan Benson for a long time. In fact I’ve bodyguarded him for years and think I understand him better than he does himself. And when he shook security at White Sands, my boss didn’t hesitate to tell me that knowing Benson as I do I certainly shouldn’t have let him skip off. Or crisp words to that effect. The pressure was on. Benson was seeking a new fuel—or a way of compressing a known fuel—to carry a torchship to Mars. His loss could mean a delay of decades. We knew he’d been close, but not how close. My nickname’s Monk. I’ve fought it, certainly, but...
CHAPTER I. FAREWELL TO OLD ENGLAND. At noon on July 1st, 1876, we said good-bye to the friends who had come to Chatham to see us off, and began the first stage of our voyage by steaming down to Sheerness, saluting our old friend the 'Duncan,' Admiral Chads's flagship, and passing through a perfect fleet of craft of all kinds. There was a fresh contrary wind, and the Channel was as disagreeable as usual under the circumstances. Next afternoon we were off Hastings, where we had intended to stop and dine and meet some friends; but, unfortunately the weather was not sufficiently favourable for us to land; so we made a long tack out to sea, and, in the evening, found ourselves once more near the land, off Beachy Head. While becalmed off Brighton, we all—children included—availed ourselves of the opportunity to go overboard and have our first swim,...
That's not my real name up there, and in a little while you'll discover the reason why. If you read my real name attached to this, you'd think it was just another fantastic yarn I batted out and then you'd forget it. And you'd laugh. You'll probably laugh anyway—for awhile—but I've got to get this thing off my chest once and for all. I was a struggling science-fiction author at the time it began—or rather, just before it began. Nope, that's not right—struggling isn't the word; it doesn't express the blood, sweat and postage stamps that went into a creation, the hope and the futility that ran hot and cold with each morning's mail, the psychological and financial insecurity that comes to a beginner crazy enough to tackle such a field. And then, to top it off, I got a letter from Donald MacDonald. That's not his real name either,...
Oh, it was to be so jolly! What a game! Such excitement they hadn't known in years. The children catapulted this way and that across the green lawns, shouting at each other, holding hands, flying in circles, climbing trees, laughing.... Overhead, the rockets flew and beetle-cars whispered by on the streets, but the children played on. Such fun, such tremulous joy, such tumbling and hearty screaming. Mink ran into the house, all dirt and sweat. For her seven years she was loud and strong and definite. Her mother, Mrs. Morris, hardly saw her as she yanked out drawers and rattled pans and tools into a large sack. "Heavens, Mink, what's going on?" "The most exciting game ever!" gasped Mink, pink-faced. "Stop and get your breath," said the mother. "No, I'm all right," gasped Mink. "Okay I take these things, Mom?" "But don't dent them," said Mrs. Morris. "Thank you, thank...
TO BE HAD AT FRIENDS' BOOK STORE, No. 304 Arch Street, Philadelphia. 1885. At a Yearly Meeting of Friends held in Philadelphia from the 20th of the Fourth Month to the 24th of the same, inclusive, 1885. An Essay on Singing and Music contained in the Minutes of the Meeting for Sufferings was now read, setting forth the spiritual nature of true worship, the danger of depending on outward forms in religious meetings, and the disadvantages connected with the practice of singing and music as an amusement. Much unity was expressed with the essay, and it was concluded that it should be published and distributed for information and warning to our own members and others. Desires were felt that in thus issuing a renewed testimony to the principles of our Society, we may be individually aroused to the necessity of so living in communion with the Father of Spirits, and...
The title of this book may not unnaturally provoke suspicion. After all, howsoever we define it, socialism is a modern thing, and dependent almost wholly on modern conditions. It is an economic theory which has been evolved under pressure of circumstances which are admittedly of no very long standing. How then, it may be asked, is it possible to find any real correspondence between theories of old time and those which have grown out of present-day conditions of life? Surely whatever analogy may be drawn between them must be based on likenesses which cannot be more than superficial. The point of view implied in this question is being increasingly adopted by all scientific students of social and political opinions, and is most certainly correct. Speculation that is purely philosophic may indeed turn round upon itself. The views of Grecian metaphysicians may continue for ever to find enthusiastic adherents; though even...
Her fingers lightly caressed a button on the long table as she half-turned toward him. At this moment, she was glad they still wore the semi-barbaric accoutrements donned for last night's festivities, commemorating the conclusion of the final war—weird, fantastic trappings, selected more for adornment than for approximations of ancient military dress—for he would not notice that she was trembling. When at last she spoke, her voice was steady. "Please go now, quickly." His hand made as if to clasp her arm, then dropped to his side. For an instant he stood there, words welling to his lips, then, with a half shrug he turned away. She did not move as he strode toward the doorway, glanced out the window; her back was a picture of composure. "Natalla!" It was not a command, or yet a call, but a cry of astonishment blended with horror. Gone was her carefully built-up...
Internal Economy. — Fishing-Parties, — Rumours of Pirates. — News of an Illanoon Squadron. — A floating Menagerie. — An Encounter with Pirates.—The “ Hyacinth ” searches for Pirates, — A War-fleet heard of. — Quedah Politics. — We are required to aid the Siamese, — Rapid Equipment of Pirate Fleet.— The Malays are warned of the coming Retribution, — Captain Warren visits the Pirate Fleet. — Arrangements are made to equip a Flotilla, — The “IIya- cinth” and Gun-boats off Quedah.— My Gun-boat and Crew.— The Coxswain's Excitability, —The Interpreter's Appearance. Tue Captain has gone ashore to take up his quarters with the Governor; the second lieutenant says it is his duty to be out of the ship as much as possible in harbour, and has gone to carry his theory into practice. Those of the subordinate officers who are blest with funds, go on shore to hire horses,...
Some years ago, I came across the Memoirs of Richard Lovell Edgeworth in a second-hand bookshop, and found it so full of interest and amusement, that I am tempted to draw the attention of other readers to it. As the volumes are out of print, I have not hesitated to make long extracts from them. The first volume is autobiographical, and the narrative is continued in the second volume by Edgeworth's daughter Maria, who was her father's constant companion, and was well fitted to carry out his wish that she should complete the Memoirs. Richard Lovell Edgeworth was born at Bath in 1744. He was a shining example of what a good landlord can do for his tenants, and how an active mind will always find objects of interest without constantly requiring what are called amusements; for the leisure class should be like Sundays in a week, and as the...
Books by ARTHUR B. REEVE Honora Wilford THE SOUL SCAR A CRAIG KENNEDY SCIENTIFIC MYSTERY NOVEL BY ARTHUR B. REEVE AUTHOR OF "The Treasure Train" "The Adventuress" "The Panama Plot" and other Craig Kennedy Stories HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON The Soul Scar Copyright, 1919, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America Published May, 1919 THE SOUL SCAR "It's the most perplexing case I've been up against, Kennedy, for a long time." Doctor Leslie, now medical adviser to the district attorney, had dropped in at the laboratory, and, to tell the truth, I was glad of the interruption. For from a retort Kennedy was evolving an olfactory offense which was particularly annoying to me, especially as I was struggling with an article on art for The Star . The things were incongruous, and the article suffered. "A case?" repeated Kennedy, mechanically. "Here—stick your...
There's nothing like a parade, I always say. Of course, I'm a Martian. Mr. Cruthers was a busy man. Coordinating the biggest parade in New York's history is not easy. He was maneuvering his two hundred pounds around Washington Square with the agility of a quarterback. He had his hands full organizing marchers, locating floats, placing the many brass bands in their proper order and barking commands to assistants. But Mr. Cruthers approached the job with all the zeal of an evangelist at a revival meeting. As he approached the south-west corner of the square he saw something that jarred his already frayed nerves. He stopped abruptly. The mass of clipboards and papers he was carrying fell to the street. There before him were one hundred and fifty ants, each of them at least six feet tall. His first impulse was to turn and run for the nearest doctor. He...
Humdrum isn’t where you live; it’s what you are. Perhaps you are one of those whose lives are bound by neighbourly interests. Imaginatively, you never seek what lies under a gorgeous sunset; you are never stirred by any longing to investigate the ends of rainbows. You are more concerned by what your neighbour does every day than by what he might do if he were suddenly spun, whirled, jolted out of his poky orbit. The blank door of an empty house never intrigues you; you enter blind alleys without thrilling in the least; you hear a cry in the night and impute it to some marauding tom. Lord, what a life! And yet every move you make is governed by Chance—the Blind Madonna of the Pagan, as that great adventurer, Stevenson, called it. You never stop to consider that it is only by chance that you leave home and arrive...
The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry—The marquis de Chauvelin and the comtesse—M. de Montbarrey and the comtesse— Intrigues—Lebel—Arrival of the du Barry family—The comte d'Hargicourt—The demoiselles du Barry—Marriage of the comtesse—The marquis de Bonrepos—Correspondences—The broken glass Journey to Choisy—The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV—The king of Denmark—The czar Peter—Frederick II—The abbé de la Chapelle—An experiment—New intrigues—Secret agents-The comtesse and Louis XV—Of the presentation—Letter of the comtesse to the duc d'Aiguillon—Reply—Prince de Soubise The comtesse and the duc d'Aiguillon—M. de Soubise—Louis XV and the duc d'Aiguillon—Letter from the comtesse to the king—Answer of the king-The " Nouvelles a la Main "—The comtesse and Louis XV—The supper—The court ladies mystified—The comtesse and M. de Sartines The sieur Ledoux—The lettre de cachet —The duc de la Vrillière— Madame de Langeac—M. de Maupeou—Louis XV—The comte Jean The king of Denmark—The courtesans of Paris—The duc de Choiseul and the bishop...
“But you can’t do it, you know,” friends said, to whom I applied for assistance in the matter of sinking myself down into the East End of London. “You had better see the police for a guide,” they added, on second thought, painfully endeavouring to adjust themselves to the psychological processes of a madman who had come to them with better credentials than brains. “But I don’t want to see the police,” I protested. “What I wish to do is to go down into the East End and see things for myself. I wish to know how those people are living there, and why they are living there, and what they are living for. In short, I am going to live there myself.” “You don’t want to live down there!” everybody said, with disapprobation writ large upon their faces. “Why, it is said there are places where a man’s life...
"He must die. It will look like an accident." "Shouldn't we take him back with us?" "We are far from through here. Don't tell me you are developing a sympathy for these miserable creatures?" "Impossible. I merely assumed he might be of some further value in our great crusade." "He must die." Max Field was listening at the door. He moved back so he could breathe again. Those dozens of little wounds in his chest and on his arms and neck stung like fire. His amiable young features were tense but resigned. This was the end, period.... Outside the little cabin an owl hooted. It was a lonely sound. But it was a familiar earth sound, and it brought a lump to his throat. If only there was some way to outwit them. But he had thought of everything; apparently so had they. That window, for instance, was shuttered and...
List of Figures This volume deals with the myths and legends of Babylonia and Assyria, and as these reflect the civilization in which they developed, a historical narrative has been provided, beginning with the early Sumerian Age and concluding with the periods of the Persian and Grecian Empires. Over thirty centuries of human progress are thus passed under review. During this vast interval of time the cultural influences emanating from the Tigro-Euphrates valley reached far-distant shores along the intersecting avenues of trade, and in consequence of the periodic and widespread migrations of peoples who had acquired directly or indirectly the leavening elements of Mesopotamian civilization. Even at the present day traces survive in Europe of the early cultural impress of the East; our "Signs of the Zodiac", for instance, as well as the system of measuring time and space by using 60 as a basic numeral for calculation, are inheritances...
All the way over, all through the loneliness of the long trip, he had consoled himself with the thought of the reception he would get. How they would crowd around him, how they would gape and cheer! All the most prominent and most important Earthlings would rush to see him, to touch their own appendages to his tentacles, to receive his report of interplanetary good will. His arrival would certainly be the most celebrated occasion in all the history of Earth.... He was coming in for a landing, and it was no time for day-dreaming. He brought the ship down slowly, in the middle of a large square, as carefully as if he were settling down among his own people. He gave them a chance to get out from under him before making contact with the ground. When the ship finally rested firmly on the strange planet, he gave a...
THE BEGINNINGS OF NAVIES Civilization and sea power arose from the Mediterranean, and the progress of recent archeological research has shown that civilizations and empires had been reared in the Mediterranean on sea power long before the dawn of history. Since the records of Egypt are far better preserved than those of any other nation of antiquity, and the discovery of the Rosetta stone has made it possible to read them, we know most about the beginnings of civilization in Egypt. We know, for instance, that an Egyptian king some 2000 years before Christ possessed a fleet of 400 fighting ships. But it appears now that long before this time the island of Crete was a great naval and commercial power, that in the earliest dynasties of Egypt Cretan fleets were carrying on a commerce with the Nile valley. Indeed, the Cretans may have taught the Egyptians something of the...
An intelligent and patriotic curiosity will find the history of few countries more interesting than that of California—which has at length realized those dreams of El Dorado that beguiled so many an early adventurer from the comforts and bliss of his fireside, to delude and destroy him. The marshes of the Orinoco, the Keys of Florida, and the hills of Mexico cover the bones of many of these original speculators in the minerals of the Western World. They sought wealth, and found graves. How many of the modern devotees of Mammon have done better in our newly opened land of gold? To explain the causes of the frequent disappointment of these cherished hopes; to determine the true value of this modern El Dorado; to exhibit the prominent features of California and its principal cities, particularly San Francisco, and thus to enable those who still encourage golden dreams to form a...
It’s not always “The Truth shall set you free!” Sometimes it’s “Want of the Truth shall drive you to escape!” And that can be dangerous! [p 54 ] Mryna Brill intended to ride the god-car above the rain mist. For a long time she had not believed in the taboos or the Earth-god. She no longer believed she lived on Earth. This paradise of green-floored forests and running brooks was something called Rythar. Six years ago, when Mryna was fourteen, she first discovered the truth. She asked a question and the Earth-god ignored it. A simple question, really: What is above the rain mist? God could have told her. Every day he answered technical questions that were far more difficult. Instead, he repeated the familiar taboo about avoiding the Old Village because of the Sickness. And consequently Mryna, being female, went to the Old Village. There was nothing really unusual...
The train had come a long journey and the afternoon was wearing on. The passenger in the last third class compartment but one, looking out of the window sombrely and intently, saw nothing now but desolate brown hills and a winding lonely river, very northern looking under the autumnal sky. He was alone in the carriage, and if any one had happened to study his movements during the interminable journey, they would have concluded that for some reason he seemed to have a singularly strong inclination for solitude. In fact this was at least the third compartment he had occupied, for whenever a fellow traveller entered, he unostentatiously descended, and in a moment had slipped, also unostentatiously, into an empty carriage. Finally he had selected one at the extreme end of the train, a judicious choice which had ensured privacy for the last couple of hours. When the train at...
Marsden had filled a basin with well water and began to lather his hands and face with soap when Marie entered their cabin. He looked up and clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Lord," he said. "Look at yourself." Marie scowled at him as she removed her bandanna and shook loose her short-cropped hair. "How do you expect me to look?" Her plain but pretty face was sweat-streaked. She wore a simple tunic which fell halfway down her thighs and almost matched her sturdy, sun-darkened legs in color, although sweat darkened the back of the garment and left rings of white under the armpits where it had evaporated. "I know how I'd like you to look." "Harry Marsden, just what do you mean by that?" He had felt it for some time now, this smouldering resentment which had wedged its way between them after only two years of marriage. He couldn't...
There is good warrant for turning directly to Lucerne and to the lake which lies in the midst of the four Forest Cantons when making, or renewing, acquaintance with Switzerland; and there should be no question of thereby slighting other famed districts of this favoured land. Almost invariably it is best to go straight to the heart of things, and the Vierwaldstätter-See, or Lake of the Four Forest Cantons—commonly known to us as the Lake of Lucerne—is held to be, both geographically and historically, at the very heart of Switzerland. There is, too, the additional assurance that no other district in the whole of the twenty-two Cantons which go to the making of the Confederation can offer a more admirable, a more ideal introduction to the fascinating wonders and delights of Swiss scenery. In spite of our being in the heart of the country, we are, as it were, upon...
In the year 1791, Woodward sailed from Boston in the ship Robert Morris, Captain Hay, for the East Indies. On his arrival there he was employed in making country voyages until the 20th of January, when he sailed as chief-mate in an American ship from Batavia bound to Manilla. In passing through the straits of Macassar, they found the wind and current both against them, and after beating up for six weeks they fell short of provision. Captain Woodward and five seamen were sent to purchase some from a vessel about four leagues distant. They were without water, provisions, or compass,—having on board only an axe, a boat hook, two penknives, a useless gun and forty dollars in cash. They reached the ship at sunset, and were told by the captain that he had no provision to spare as he was bound to China and was victualled for only one...
“No. I mean the girl in black. The one leading the pom.” “By jove! Yes. She’s uncommonly smart, isn’t she?” “Her friend isn’t half bad-looking, either?” “I don’t think so very much of her, Raife. But Southport at this time of year is always full of pretty girls.” “Not one of them can compare with the girl in black—she’s ripping!” declared Raife Remington, a tall, well-set up, dark-haired, hatless undergraduate, who, in grey flannels, was walking beside his college chum, Edward Mutimer, at whose father’s house he was staying during the vac. Both were at Trinity, Cambridge, and both, being in their last year, were reading hard for their degrees. Each morning in those warm August days by the summer sea they came out for a stroll on the seafront; bright with movement and gaiety, taking an airing before settling down to their studies for the day. On this particular...
Rarely a day passes but the keen observer can find in the columns of sensational periodicals such captions as: “Beware of the ‘Mormons,’” “Capturing Soul-brides for Utah,” “Elders of ‘Mormon’ Church Entice Girls to Utah,” “Sleek-haired Devils in Sheep’s Clothing,” “Local Girl Kidnapped by ‘Mormon,’” etc., and under such headings an array of villifying accusations which make themselves obnoxious to thinking people. The “Mormon” elder, according to “yellow journalism,” is a villain of the deepest dye; he is a white-slave trafficker, and is charged with resorting to the basest practices to induce people to espouse his creed; in fact, he is charged with almost every crime on the calendar. And, strange to say, these charges are made by and at the instigation of Christian ministers, so-called. But, says the man in the street, “If these charges are all false, men would not dare to make them!” And further, “If they...
Old Thak watched fondly as the new telescope was being put into its place. He had been a long time persuading the elders to build this instrument, a duplicate of the one destroyed in the latest great war. It was as fine a telescope as Mars could produce, and only Thak's assurances that the work was of the greatest importance had secured him this luxury. His project must succeed, he felt, glancing at his students. Like him, they were almost spherical in shape, with fine arm-like appendages ringing their middles. They were young and enthusiastic, and Thak believed they could revive the science of astronomy. He, the last astronomer of Mars, would teach them all he knew. The overseer of the workers was disgusted. "You waste our resources, Thak," he declared. "You have taken two years of labor by dozens of workers, and for what? So that you may look...
Sketch of my Parentage.—Early separation from my Mother.—Hard Fare.—First Experiments at running away.—Earnest longing for Freedom.—Abhorrent nature of Slavery. I was born May 1815, of a slave mother, in Shelby County, Kentucky, and was claimed as the property of David White Esq. He came into possession of my mother long before I was born. I was brought up in the Counties of Shelby, Henry, Oldham, and Trimble. Or, more correctly speaking, in the above counties, I may safely say, I was flogged up ; for where I should have received moral, mental, and religious instruction, I received stripes without number, the object of which was to degrade and keep me in subordination. I can truly say, that I drank deeply of the bitter cup of suffering and woe. I have been dragged down to the lowest depths of human degradation and wretchedness, by Slaveholders. My mother was known by the...
In the past several years the United States National Museum has received a large number of mammals from central and southern Korea through the auspices of the Commission on Hemorrhagic Fever of the Armed Forces Epidemiological Board. Among these Korean collections are more than a hundred specimens of a murine rodent originally described as " Micromys speciosus peninsulae " by Oldfield Thomas but currently placed in the genus Apodemus . In attempting to ascertain the specific relationships of this mouse I have examined, through the generosity of Dr. David H. Johnson, Acting Curator of Mammals, most of the other Oriental specimens of the subgenus Sylvaemus in the U. S. National Museum and it is on this combined material that the following comments and description are based. Three general groups of the genus Apodemus are presently known to occur on the mainland of northeast Asia. One is the distinctive Apodemus agrarius...
I could have taken that three hundred dollars and gone to school for a year, by washing dishes two hours a night. I had worked for that money, too; shocking wheat for twelve hours a day in the August sun is no vacation. But Slim Coleman convinced me that we could run that three hundred into enough to take us both for four years. I hadn't even had time to get a haircut—and I did want a haircut; now it was pretty shaggy. But Slim, diplomat that he is, didn't even seem to notice my hair. "I've got a real deal," he said, and his deep eyes were shining with enthusiasm. "Have you got any money?" "Some," I said cautiously. "It takes three hundred. Have you got that much?" I had intended to say no, but Slim has a way of fixing his deep, somber eyes on you that gives...
It all began on a Saturday night at The Space Room . If you've seen any recent Martian travel folders, you know the place: "A picturesque oasis of old Martian charm, situated on the beauteous Grand Canal in the heart of Marsport. Only half a mile from historic Chandler Field, landing site of the first Martian expedition nearly fifty years ago in 1990. A visitor to the hotel, lunch room or cocktail lounge will thrill at the sight of hardy space pioneers mingling side by side with colorful Martian tribesmen. An evening at The Space Room is an amazing, unforgettable experience." Of course, the folders neglect to add that the most amazing aspect is the scent of the Canal's stagnant water—and that the most unforgettable experience is seeing the "root-of-all-evil" evaporate from your pocketbook like snow from the Great Red Desert. We were sitting on the bandstand of the candle-lit...
Charles Crossley, President of American Jet-Propelled Ships, felt himself spread-eagled in his favorite living room chair. The voice on the televisor moaned. Europe. Crossley twitched. Secret atomic factories. Crossley jerked. Semi-dictatorships. Crossley sweated. Political pressures. War. Crossley writhed. His wife shut the televisor off indignantly. "Nonsense!" She stared at her limp husband. "Tri-Union hasn't any weapons, we haven't any, neither has Russia, Britain or anyone else. That was all settled and forbidden ages ago. When was it? 1960?" Crossley stroked his receding hairline, sighing. "They're making atom bombs in secret," he said. He littered the rug with cigar ash. "Stop that!" cried his wife. "My nice rug!" "The rug, oh, the confounded rug," he said, and muttered away, closing his eyes for a long minute. Then he opened one eye. He looked at his wife. He looked at the rug, the cigar in his hand, the fallen ashes. "The rug?"...
It was our King’s wish that he should go as a private pilgrim, with no trappings of state nor pomp of ceremony, and with only a small suite, to visit the tombs in Belgium and France of his comrades who gave up their lives in the Great War. In the uniform which they wore on service, he passed from one to another of the cemeteries which, in their noble simplicity, express perfectly the proud grief of the British race in their dead; and, at the end, within sight of the white cliffs of England, spoke his thoughts in a message of eloquence which moved all his Empire to sympathy. The Governments of France and of Belgium, our allies in the war for the freedom of the world, respected the King’s wish. Nowhere did official ceremony intrude on an office of private devotion. But nothing could prevent the people of the...
Dublin. Hardly have you set foot on the quay at Kingstown, than you feel on an altogether different ground from England. Between Dover and Calais the contrast is not more striking. Kingstown is a pretty little place, whose harbour is used by the steamers from Holyhead, and whither Dublin shopkeepers resort in summer. Half a century back, it was only a fishermen’s village of the most rudimentary description. But George IV., late Prince Regent, having done that promontory the honour to embark there when leaving Ireland, the place became the fashion. In memory of the glorious event, the citizens of Dublin raised on that spot a pyramid which rests on four cannon balls, and bears on its top the royal crown with the names of all the engineers, architects, captains, and harbour officials who had anything to do with the business. Villas soon sprang up round it, and from that...
In the year 2200 A.D., Solar News Company became the biggest corporation in the nine planets. In the year 2220, Solar built the Heptagon, so called not because it was seven-sided but because it covered seven solid blocks, housed seven hundred thousand employees, and on its seventieth floor had a spacefield big enough to handle a fair-sized interplanetary patrol boat. In the early part of the Twenty-Third Century, war had been eliminated for so long that international affairs no longer had the deep significance they had had in the Twentieth Century. Controls were so rigid there had not been any startling development in economics or science for over a century, with the single exception of time-travel. People everywhere on Earth had finally resigned themselves to taking it easy, and so Solar News was just about on the rocks when along came time-travel, and Smullen, the sharp-eyed vice-president of Solar, foresaw...
The aliens were quite impressed by Earth's technical marvels—they found them just delicious! Sugardale three miles, the state highway sign said. Dexter Foote turned into the side road that the arrow indicated. He had no way of knowing it at the time, but by his action he condemned his new convertible to a fate worse than death. The side road meandered down a long slope into a wooded hollow where a breeze born of cool bowers and shaded brooks made the July afternoon heat less oppressive. A quantity of the pique that had been with him ever since setting forth from the city departed. There were worse assignments, after all, than writing up a fallen star. Abruptly he applied the brakes and brought the convertible to a screeching halt. His blue eyes started from his boyish face. Well they might. The two Humpty Dumptyish creatures squatting in the middle of...
On the 16th day of September, 1862, the author of this narrative was duly enlisted as a volunteer in the service of the United States; and, on the 22d of the same month, reported at Camp Stevens, Providence, R. I., for duty. At this place, the Twelfth Regiment Rhode Island Volunteers was organized; and in this city, on the 13th day of October, 1862, it was mustered into the service of the United States, for a period of nine months. As a member of this regiment, your subscriber was duly elected, and from the 13th of October, 1862, until the 29th of July, 1863, was known as J. W. Grant, private, Company F, Twelfth Regiment Rhode Island Volunteers. Our regiment was under the command of Colonel George H. Browne, and as yet no lieutenant-colonel or major had been assigned us. The following were the company officers: Company A. —Captain, Edward...
There are few Americans who went to England before the late wars but will remember Ripon House. The curious student of history—a study, perhaps, too little in vogue with us—could find no better example of the palace of an old feudal lord. Dating almost from the time of the first George—and some even say it was built by the same Wren who designed that St. Paul's Cathedral whose ruins we may still see to the east of London—it frowned upon the miles of private park surrounding it, a marble memorial of feudal monopoly and man's selfish greed. The very land about it, to an extent of almost half a county, was owned by the owners of the castle, and by them rented out upon an annual payment to such farmers as they chose to favor with a chance to earn their bread. In an ancient room of a still older...
Washington Government Printing Office 1909 We have met here to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the birth of one of the two greatest Americans; of one of the two or three greatest men of the nineteenth century; of one of the greatest men in the world’s history. This rail splitter, this boy who passed his ungainly youth in the dire poverty of the poorest of the frontier folk, whose rise was by weary and painful labor, lived to lead his people through the burning flames of a struggle from which the nation emerged, purified as by fire, born anew to a loftier life. After long years of iron effort, and of failure that came more often than victory, he at last rose to the leadership of the Republic, at the moment when that leadership had become the stupendous world-task of the time. He grew to know greatness, but never ease....
Correspondence between ELDER JOSEPH F. SMITH, JR. of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints AND MR. RICHARD G. EVANS, Second Counselor in the Presidency of the "Reorganized" Church "To correct misrepresentation, we adopt self representation." —John Taylor. Correspondence between ELDER JOSEPH F. SMITH, (JR.,) of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and MR. RICHARD C. EVANS, second counselor (1905) in the Presidency of the "Reorganized" Church. A conclusive refutation of the false charges persistently made by ministers of the "Reorganized" Church against the Latter-day Saints and their belief. Also a supplement containing a number of affidavits and other matters bearing on the subjects. SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH PRINTED IN U.S.A. The correspondence in this pamphlet was brought about through the wilful misrepresentation of the doctrines of the Latter-day Saints and the unwarranted abuse of the authorities of the Church by Mr. Richard C. Evans, in an...